The Mysterious Growling of Rivington

In the heart of the 1990s, when grunge music ruled the airwaves and dial-up internet was a novelty, there existed a quaint business in Bolton town and their stood a shop as a beacon of commerce amidst the cobbled streets and cozy storefronts. But this tale isn’t about the shop; it’s about the Saturday lad and his band of adventurous mates.
Their destination? The Rivington Terraced Gardens. Rivington, with its rolling hills, ancient woodlands, and reservoirs, was a place where nature and folklore danced a timeless waltz.

here is a report i was sent 10/12/2020,:

Great to see a page like this in our local area Mick!

I look forward to listening to the readings and posts etc to come.

A story I’ll never forget:

My parents own a business in Bolton town, it was during the mid 90’s the Saturday lad at the time and his mates, gathered outside the shop at 5:30pm with all their camping gear and headed up to Rivington to camp around the gardens, if I recall.

Monday morning, when asked how they got on on their first camping trip, he said the 5 of them heard a growling that couldn’t be identified.
It terrified them so much that 5 lads in their early 20s packed up quickly in the middle of the night and fled home.

Kind Regards.

And so, the Saturday lad’s midnight escape remains etched in memory—a blend of fear, wonder, and the inexplicable magic of Rivington’s gardens