Mrs Mitton is making us a ‘Real Lancashire Potato Pie’ tonight, a ‘gradely potato pie’, so I started about 6pm, having had no tea in anticipation.  A wild night it was, and my cape was necessary.  However, on the climb from Astley Bridge, I put it away, and for some miles, fought the wind on this dark moorland road.  At Belmont, an extra-special in the way of a rainstorm came down, and once more I dived for the shelter of my cape.  The track to Bromilow [now shown on the map as Bromiley – Ed]  Farm, which is nearly a mile long, and has an evil reputation for clinging mud, outshone itself tonight, and when I reached the farm, I was as wet and muddy as the track itself.

Inside the cheery room, I found but a small gathering, but soon all came up in two’s and three’s, until about 40 hungry people had arrived.  At long last, the pie arrived, and didn’t we make a wakes of it!  After gorging myself to the last, I sat down, and for a while, asked to be left alone.  A piano provided us with much amusement, and pleasure, with fireworks as an effective, spectacular and noisy sideline.  At 10pm, we all went out, and were treated to a fine display of the above.  The night was pitch dark, and I started alone along the other track which leads into the village.  After sundry watery adventures, I reached Belmont, and with the club, proceeded to Bolton.                               20 miles