Burnley Civic Trust Heritage Image Collection

The Burnley castles that have finally succumbed–the drought that really means Time

3 October 1978
Millers Arms, Junction Street, Burnley

Media Ref: BE78ng10623_b
The Burnley castles that have finally succumbed–the drought that really means Time
The Burnley castles that have finally succumbed–the drought that really means Time (
Ã) The Burnley castles that have finally succumbed–the drought that really means Time (
Ã) The Burnley castles that have finally succumbed–the drought that really means Time (
Ã) The Burnley castles that have finally succumbed–the drought that really means Time (
Ã) The Burnley castles that have finally succumbed–the drought that really means Time (
Ã) The Burnley castles that have finally succumbed–the drought that really means Time (
Ã) The Burnley castles that have finally succumbed–the drought that really means Time (
Ã) The Burnley castles that have finally succumbed–the drought that really means Time (
Ã)

Millers Arms, Junction Street.
Landlady Mrs Pemberton (centre-not drinking!) sits among her long standing friends-in the Millers Arms.
People may stand back as the bulldozers flattened their homes but it would appear that the Englishman's pub is his castle. Of six licensed houses in the Whittlefield/Gannow area which were served with closure notices for October 1 prior to their demolition, four are remaining open for a short time. Burnley has already lost a number of pubs in the name of the M65 and its link roads including the New Inn in Cog Lane and the Bulls Head on Riding Street. Now the drought is spreading to the remaining pumps at Whittlefield. Two of the four pubs on Padiham Road-the Roebook Hotel and Barracks Tavern-closed for the last time this weekend but Mr Colin Holmes of the Union Inn and Mrs Rebecca Medley at the Peels Arms Will be manning the pumps until the council can come up with some alternative accommodation for them. And down the road on Junction Street the Millers was only allowed to stay open by kind permission of the council's housing department because they were unable to find Mrs Alice Pemberton the licensee anywhere suitable to live. Up at the White Bull Hotel licensee Mr Bill Wyld intends to be pulling pints until the bulldozers roll up to the front door. Just where the good people of Burnley are going to find another local with as much character and tradition to which they have become accustomed is not known. Everyone knows that when it comes to a pint of foaming ale it is not just what it tastes like, it is the company you drink it with.

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