I keep having recurring dreams about Bohemian Swinley, they've been happening a good ten years or so. It's a very different Swinley to the one which exists now. I'm walking around Upper Dicconson Street and Wrightington Street and it's dark and the tree lined avenues are only lit by a pale gaslight. But where terraced houses and small offices currently are back in the real world, it is replaced by wide windowed bars and bistros where the well-heeled sit on backless stools clicking their fingers to jazz music whilst drinking continental lager. There's literally one of these bars on every street corner and I never go in, just peer through the window enviously. There's the odd pub as well, built into the brick terraced houses with a small entrance, that familiar smell of hops wafting up from the cellar and I can hear a fiddle playing and the sound of Celtic bonhomie. It feels Victorian but also affluent, way more affluent than I imagine Victorian Wigan was reputed to be.