Man, what a day! I swear, Ince-in-Makerfield is a wild place. Woke up this mornin’ thinkin’ it’d be just another boring day shearin’ sheep. But nah, not today, mate.
So, I’m out on the job, right? Just me and a bunch of fluffy sheep on Wigan Road. The sun’s shinin’, birds are chirpin’, and I’m feelin’ good. But then, outta nowhere, this sheep decides it’s a good time to make a run for it. I’m chasin’ it down the street, yellin’ like a madman. “Oi! Get back here, ya woolly escape artist!”
I’m sprintin’ past the shops on Liverpool Road, dodgin’ old ladies and their shopping bags. One of ‘em gives me a right dirty look. Like, c’mon, lady, I’m just tryin’ to do my job! Finally, I catch the little bugger near the Ince Park. I’m pantin’ like a dog, but I can’t help but laugh. What a sight, eh?
After that chaos, I head to the local café on Manchester Road. Needed a breather and a cuppa. The barista, bless her, knows my order by heart. “The usual, love?” she says with a cheeky grin. I nod, and she whips up my flat white faster than I can say “sheep shearer.”
While I’m sippin’ my coffee, I overhear some blokes talkin’ about the footie match last night. Apparently, Ince lost again. Typical, right? I mean, c’mon, lads, get it together! I can’t help but chuckle. It’s like a rite of passage for Ince to lose.
Then, I get a text from me mate, Dave. He’s stuck at the bus stop on Church Street. “Oi, mate! Bring me a bacon butty!” he says. I’m like, “You’re jokin’, right?” But I can’t leave him hangin’, so I grab a butty from the café and head over.
When I get there, he’s lookin’ proper miserable. “Bus is late again,” he grumbles. I hand him the butty, and his face lights up. “You’re a legend!” he says, takin’ a big bite. I laugh, “Yeah, yeah, just don’t get crumbs on me!”
After that, we decide to hit up the local park. Ince Park is a gem, I tell ya. Kids runnin’ around, dogs chasin’ their tails, and the smell of fresh grass. We plop down on a bench, and I start tellin’ him about my sheep escapade. He’s in stitches, laughin’ so hard he nearly drops his butty.
But then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, proper British weather, right? We scramble for cover under a tree, laughin’ and shiverin’. “Only in Ince,” I say, shakin’ my head. “One minute it’s sunny, next it’s a monsoon!”
Once the rain eases up, we head back to the main street. I’m feelin’ a bit peckish again, so we pop into a chippy on the corner of Wigan Road. Best fish and chips in town, no doubt. I order a large portion, and Dave gets a pie. We sit outside, munchin’ away, and I can’t help but feel grateful.
Ince-in-Makerfield might be small, but it’s got character. The people, the streets, the little quirks. It’s home, ya know? Even with the craziness, the sheep chasin’, and the dodgy weather, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
As the sun sets, we stroll back, laughin’ about the day. “What a right mess,” I say, and he nods. “But a good one.” And that’s the beauty of it, innit? Just livin’ life, one sheep at a time.