In the picturesque village of Downham, nestled in the heart of the Ribble Valley,

The Random Jottings of Donald Jay from Nelson in Pendle
In the picturesque village of Downham, nestled in the heart of the Ribble Valley, a sense of tranquillity and history permeated the air. The village, with its ancient roots and well-preserved architecture, held secrets that whispered through the centuries. Among the villagers, tales of hauntings and otherworldly encounters had been passed down from generation to generation, shrouding the village in an air of mystery.
The Assheton family, the long-standing custodians of the village and its surrounding estate, had been intimately connected to Downham for centuries. Their grand manor, standing proudly since 1558, held the echoes of the past, and it was said that the spirits of Assheton ancestors wandered its halls in ethereal form. Visitors claimed to hear faint whispers and footsteps echoing through the empty corridors, a reminder of the family's enduring presence.
But the manor was not the only site said to be haunted in Downham. The village church, with its weathered stone walls and centuries-old graveyard, was a focal point for supernatural occurrences. Local legends told of a restless spirit that roamed the churchyard, forever searching for a lost love. Villagers spoke in hushed tones about the ghostly figure that would appear in the moonlit nights, a melancholic spectre that evoked both sorrow and sympathy.
Downham's haunted reputation had not gone unnoticed beyond the village. Film producers seeking a location untouched by modernity found solace in its timeless charm. The absence of television aerials and other signs of modern life made it the perfect backdrop for historical dramas. Downham had become a magnet for film-makers, drawing cameras and crew to capture its enigmatic beauty.
In 2001, the village was once again transformed into a stage as the production of "Born and Bred" unfolded. Actors and actresses walked the streets, breathing life into characters from a bygone era. The village hall, once a Wesleyan chapel, now buzzed with excitement as scenes were filmed. The villagers, accustomed to the occasional invasion of cameras and lights, watched with curiosity and pride as their beloved village became a temporary haven for the world of entertainment.
Years earlier, in 1961, another film had made its mark on Downham's history. "Whistle Down the Wind," a tale of innocence and redemption, took its audience on a poignant journey. Worsaw End Farm, situated on the outskirts of the village, became a focal point for the film's narrative. Local children from Downham and nearby Chatburn schools took part, lending their youthful energy and authenticity to the production. It was a time when the village came alive with the magic of storytelling, leaving an indelible mark on the memories of those involved.
Throughout the years, Downham had become a meeting point between the living and the echoes of the past. Its hauntings were not the stuff of malevolence but rather a gentle reminder of the village's rich history. Visitors continued to explore its winding streets, captivated by the stories and the ethereal presence that lingered. Downham, with its timeless beauty and supernatural allure, remained a place where the veil between worlds grew thin, a testament to the enduring power of history and the resilience of its inhabitants.
By Donald Jay