Many years ago the pubs in and around Burnley-Nelson-Colne were frequently venues for folk songs and poetry, which were often in local dialect. Most Londoners make little distinction in local accent variations; Up-North, Manchester way is as precise as it gets. I live in North-East Lancashire where accents can be weak, or strong and thick. There are variations from town to town. The vowel sound in ‘there’ drifts from ‘air’ to ‘er’ simply by moving your ears from Burnley to Blackburn. That was back in the 1970’s and I looked on the performances with some amusement. I’d worked with strongly accented people in textiles for some years. When they wanted to turn on the brogue, they were difficult to understand them, yet we all lived and worked within a ten mile radius. In that long ago time, I never got the point of writing dialect –local folk tell each other apart with it but words have a standard spelling. Why would anyone deliberately spell something wrong?

Fast forward to last year, 2011. For some time I’d been toying with a story set on a real historical premise. Before the Second World War there’d been a plan to flood Rossendale valley and create a giant reservoir that would serve the towns and cities of the North-West. The plan was scrapped due to the war. After the war the state of public finances effectively kyboshed the whole project, now decades dead. The idea lingered. Older residents of the valley – those in their 80’s – still remember it. It intrigued me. Where would the water come to? I’m a frequent traveller through the valley – I live there. What about the dam. It could be sited to just enclose the headwaters of the Irwell and the valley in which the township of Bacup rests. That alone would make for a voluminous reservoir. If the dam were sited further down the Irwell, would it be possible to end up with a natural island? The topography suggested so. Either way, a body of water that size would result in a micro-climate in and around the area. Doubtless this would prove of great interest to scientists of many shapes and sizes. There would certainly be water leisure activities; what about a ferry?

I did some calculations – assume the position of the dam, assume a contour for the height of the water, calculate area, volume… and I came to my conclusion: You could have as much water as in Lake Windermere – possibly more. But what would happen then? Townships and villages would be submerged. The evacuation of places like Bacup and Waterfoot could be on the cards. Where would the displaced go? I had my story, one in which local dialect wouldn’t be out of place –for the characters I had in mind, dialect was essential. Little Jimmy was written twelve months ago, early in 2011 as a single excursion into dialect.

My real-life work touches on the demolition industry and I decided it was in order to touch on the science behind the perils of asbestos. The characters from Little Jimmy clamoured to be heard on this so Asbestalux became their story.