Where Tourists Seldom Tread: Preston and St Helens, Lancashire’s Resurgent Gems

This double act of "Lancashire" locations is my final celebration of Britain’s bypassed towns, concluding a deeply personal exploration of my native county that has dominated my life of late. The central question posed throughout these columns has been: can you truly holiday right at home? The answer, unequivocally, is yes – a resounding affirmation echoed by the rich tapestries of history, innovation, and community spirit found in places like Preston and St Helens.

Inspired by the philosophical wanderings of authors like Xavier de Maistre, who famously believed one could undertake a profound "journey inside a single room," or Julio Cortázar, who transformed a mundane "walk upstairs into a quest," I’ve sought to uncover the extraordinary within the ordinary, demonstrating that an entire county, particularly one as diverse as Lancashire, offers enough adventures to fill a lifetime. My travels through these seldom-trod places have revealed not just relics of the past but vibrant landscapes of regeneration and redevelopment, interspersed with the inevitable marks of demolition and disappearance. While the casual observer might perceive urban decay, a closer look unveils towns and cities actively reshaping their futures. Preston, my closest city, for instance, is bustling with a significant £45m leisure complex, a magnificently revamped museum, and a new bridge spanning the historic River Ribble, with numerous further developments underway. St Helens, my childhood town – proudly rooted in historic Lancashire but now administratively part of Merseyside and the broader Liverpool City Region – currently presents a tableau akin to a drawing board, yet both are unequivocally changing for the better, their progress evident beyond the sometimes-frayed fabric of their townscapes.

Preston: The Enduring Heart of Lancashire Innovation

My initial impression of Preston was shaped by its low-slung eastern edges, an expanse that seemed to have been aggressively cleared. This Americanisation, with its sprawling, boxed retail parks, vast carparks, and efficient but impersonal ring roads, initially left me feeling somewhat flat. However, Preston, a city steeped in history and quietly pushing boundaries, began to truly grow on me the moment I stood beneath the breathtaking, hypodermic spire of St Walburge’s church. This architectural marvel, the tallest parish church in the UK, was designed by Joseph Hansom, a name synonymous with the iconic hansom cab. It stands as a powerful testament to the enduring and strong Roman Catholic presence in what was historically known as "Priest’s Town." Looking up at its soaring pinnacle is more than just appreciating architecture; it’s an act that inspires hope, serving as a primitive yet profound form of cognitive therapy, connecting one to centuries of faith and aspiration.

Further enriching my experience was the discovery of the imposing Harris Museum and Art Gallery. This civic gem, having recently reopened last September after an extensive and transformative £19m refurbishment, has re-established itself as a central cultural beacon. It’s now the definitive destination for art enthusiasts, local historians, textile and fashion aficionados, ceramics collectors, coffee lovers, and library users – the ultimate refuge on a rainy day or, indeed, during an unexpected heatwave. The Harris is a regional treasure, a repository of Lancashire’s heritage, and its significance is underscored by its guardianship of a portion of the Cuerdale Hoard, the largest Viking hoard ever found in England, unearthed right beside the River Ribble. One can’t help but ponder whether institutions like the Ashmolean and British Museum might consider returning the complete hoard to its rightful home.

During my time serving jury duty at the crown court, I frequently used the Harris, transforming my daily walks from the park-and-ride into impromptu sightseeing tours. These explorations revealed a city rich in architectural diversity and historical markers. Highlights included the iconic Brutalist Preston Bus Station and Guild Hall, magnificent structures built with a vision for an unrealised new town, designed by Ove Arup and championed for their bold modernism. The monument to the 1842 martyrs, a stark reminder of the General Strike where workers were gunned down by infantry and police, speaks volumes about Preston’s industrial past and social struggles. The city also boasts charming Victorian market halls and courts, the elegant Miller Arcade, and the serene Winckley Square with its meticulously maintained park and grand Georgian terraces. Beyond St Walburge’s, the religious landscape is equally rich, featuring St Wilfrid’s, St John’s Minster, and the vibrant Saint Alphonsa Syro-Malabar Cathedral, reflecting Preston’s diverse and evolving community.

Granted city status in 2002, Preston has historically been a place of significant power and influence. It marks the geographical and chronological starting point of the cotton-town trail through east Lancashire. The city proudly claims Richard Arkwright, the "father of the factory system" and co-creator of the water-powered spinning frame, who was born here in 1732, thus cementing Preston’s pivotal role in the Industrial Revolution. The colossal Centenary Mill, built for the empire-spanning textile firm Horrockses, Crewdson & Co, stands as a monument to this era. Its magnificent chimney was not merely functional but a "shameless challenge to the churches," a bold declaration of industrial might. Today, an annexe off the mill yard houses a magical emporium of antiques, fixtures, and fittings culled from mouldering mansions, offering a tangible link to the wealth and grandeur generated by this past.

Preston’s industrial prowess also inadvertently spurred other forms of innovation and social change. The temperance and teetotalism movements, notably spearheaded by Joseph Livesey, a local clothier’s son from Walton-le-Dale, emerged partly as a reaction to the perceived "urban immorality" linked to heavy drinking in industrial centres. Beyond social reform, the burgeoning working class found a new outlet in professional football. Preston North End became a founder member of the English Football League, and Deepdale, their home ground since 1875, remains one of England’s oldest football stadiums. The city also holds a significant place in the history of women’s football, with the pioneering Dick, Kerr Ladies team, founded in 1917, becoming one of the first and most successful women’s teams globally, despite the infamous FA ban that sought to curtail their popularity.

While I respect the temperance movement, I confess a deep affection for the Black Horse – to my mind, Preston’s most beautiful old pub. Its interior is a symphony of etched windows, fixed snug-like seating, gorgeous tiling, and a rare ceramic bar, preserving the authentic charm of a bygone era. These traditional spaces are now complemented by a burgeoning new food scene, with the cool Korean restaurant Kimji, the authentic Spanish dishes at Pintxos, and the modern British cuisine at Aven, reflecting a diverse and contemporary culinary landscape.

The 1974 local government overhaul, which redrew county lines, inadvertently positioned Preston as a future "capital" of sorts for the region. It is now beginning to live up to this billing, not just through revitalised infrastructure but through a distinctive economic philosophy. A little bird (or rather, an old pigeon outside the Harris Museum) tells me that "Manchesterism," the big central idea of local authorities exerting control and investing in a place, is actually misnamed. Its true origins lie in Preston, a model now widely known as the "Preston Model" or "Prestonism." This innovative approach to community wealth building, where local institutions leverage their spending power to benefit local businesses and residents, has demonstrably led to living standards rising over twice as fast as the rest of the UK in Preston and other adopting towns. Even Manchester’s former mayor, Andy Burnham, has acknowledged Preston’s pioneering role. "Prestonism" may yet change Britain and indeed the world, all over again, offering a sustainable path to local prosperity.

Beyond the city centre, there’s much to explore: the scenic 21-mile Guild Wheel offers fantastic walking and cycling routes, connecting urban and rural landscapes. The historic Tram Bridge, currently undergoing vital restoration, is a testament to the city’s transport heritage. The serene Preston England Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints stands as an architectural landmark. Local folklore whispers tales of the "Devil’s House" on St Wilfrid Street, adding a touch of mystery. And for industrial heritage enthusiasts, the Ribble Steam Railway and Museum offers a fascinating journey into the region’s past.

St Helens: Forging a New Future from a Legacy of Glass and Coal

Until recently, I had never stepped inside St Helens Minster, despite being born nearby. In my defence, it was only elevated from a parish church to a Minster in May of this year, a change reflecting its enhanced role as the "mother-church of the whole community." This spiritual heart marks the town’s true origin, surrounded by four ancient rural manors – Windle, Parr, Sutton, and Eccleston – names that still conjure images of picturesque villages like Clinkham Wood, Thatto Heath, and Nutgrove. St Helens was once a landscape of fields, transformed by the Industrial Revolution into a bustling hub of shops, coal pits, and glassworks. Now, it is evolving into something new again.

Two significant developments are unfolding, promising to reshape St Helens. One, though appearing small on a map, carries immense symbolic weight: the ongoing conservation work at No 7 Cannington Shaw Bottle Shop. Built in 1886, this was once part of a complex of nine such "shops" or factories, collectively forming the largest glass bottle production site in the world. This lovely redbrick circular building, crowned with a classic conical roof, is the sole survivor, nestled incongruously beside a large Tesco and the Saints’ flashy rugby league arena. Here, tons of molten glass were once heated, and skilled glassblowers expertly scooped up gobs to inflate, shape, and mould into countless bottles. Now, on the first Saturday of every month, No 7 Cannington Shaw Bottle Shop hosts vibrant artisan craft markets, complete with a bar and food stalls. After serving as an air raid shelter and storage depot, the site was abandoned and only narrowly escaped demolition by sheer happy accident. John Tabern, the project director, a former "glassman" himself, articulates the deep local pride: "As an ex-glassman, it’s extremely important to me. I’m proud of St Helens and want people to know its story. But we must monetise it with gigs and markets and all those things," highlighting a pragmatic vision for heritage preservation.

The other major transformation, large on the map and equally crucial if less immediately evocative, involves extensive urban regeneration. Following what has been described as "blitz-level demolition," a vast area east and south of the town hall is being reimagined. Plans include a new bus station, modern homes, office spaces, a hotel, inviting green spaces, public piazzas, and "revitalised retail spaces," all aimed at creating a more modern and attractive town centre.

While St Helens has a history of demolition, many of its architectural gems are being preserved and repurposed. The Gamble Building, a solid example of redbrick Victoriana, is slated to house a smart new library, a youth space, and offices, integrating modern civic functions into a historic shell. The Town Hall itself stands as another robust example of Victorian pride. The iconic Beecham’s building, constructed in 1887, was an incredibly expensive undertaking for its time and is topped by a coquettish clock tower. Its founder, Thomas Beecham, began his empire selling laxatives to "costive Wiganers," and St Helens, acting as a crucible of industry, allowed his business to flourish. The smart St Helens College now faces this former HQ, a striking marriage of old and new that works remarkably well.

The town’s architectural story extends to modernism. Reflection Court, the old Pilkington’s headquarters on Canal Street, features a streamlined brick facade clearly influenced by the Dutch modernist Willem Marinus Dudok. Furthermore, the former Pilkington’s complex at Alexandra Park on the edge of town was designed by renowned modernist architects Jane Drew and Maxwell Fry, who famously collaborated with giants like Walter Gropius and Le Corbusier. Many of these historic industrial buildings are now earmarked for apartment conversions, reflecting a nationwide trend of repurposing industrial heritage for residential use.

As I prepared to leave town, I visited The Book Stop, a community bookstore in which I proudly hold "shares," and where I recently gave a talk on my Lancashire book. Without any prompting from me, the manager titled the event: "Don’t Call Us Merseyside." This sentiment, along with the equally unpopular "Liverpool City Region" designation, resonates deeply within the community, reaffirming St Helens’ enduring Lancashire identity. Passing by St Mary’s Lowe House Catholic church, which as a child I perceived as huge and ominous, I reflected on its unique charm. Architectural historian Nikolaus Pevsner wasn’t overly keen on it, but I find its competing Byzantine dome and Gothic tower fascinating, as if the architect couldn’t quite settle on a single style. Its brickwork, blackened by the patina of two centuries of factory fumes, tells a powerful story of industrial life. My route also took me past the Turks Head pub, routinely lauded by CAMRA for its excellent ales and traditional atmosphere, and FC St Helens, where the town’s celebrated rugby league team played in the 1880s, anchoring its sporting heritage.

My journey through St Helens concludes at its cemetery and crematorium, a place I’ve visited too often in recent decades, a poignant reminder that while the town was built on furnaces, this one remains perpetually busy. Beyond the neat ranks of modern gravestones, I follow a path that, from above, forms a heart shape, leading to a wooded corner where St Helens’ most ancient structure stands: Windleshaw Chantry, dating back to 1415, when this was still open countryside. Beneath it lies a large tomb, its flat tablet inscribed with abbreviated words that, when spelled out, read: "Here lie the remains of Jean Baptiste François Graux de la Bruyere – He was the first Who brought to Perfection A Work of very considerable Magnitude And Importance To the Commercial Interest of the British Nation." This immigrant from Picardy, who died in 1787 at the age of 48, is widely believed to be the visionary who perfected glass-making in St Helens, laying the foundation for its industrial boom. I’m sure he would be immensely pleased that, after centuries, the town is finally celebrating his profound and enduring legacy.

For those seeking to delve deeper into St Helens, the World of Glass offers an immersive experience into the town’s industrial past. The community-run Book Stop is a treasure trove for literature lovers, and the North West Museum of Road Transport provides a fascinating look at local transport history. The iconic Dream sculpture, a monumental white head carved from a former colliery spoil heap, stands as a modern symbol of regeneration and hope. And for a taste of contemporary St Helens, Café Laziz offers a vibrant culinary experience.

In exploring Preston and St Helens, I’ve reaffirmed that true adventure doesn’t always require distant shores. It can be found in the overlooked corners of our own backyards, in the resilience of communities, the echoes of history, and the quiet revolution of local regeneration. These bypassed towns, far from being forgotten, are actively rewriting their narratives, proving that immense beauty, innovation, and a rich sense of place can be discovered right at home.