This evening we visited the North West's tourist attraction of the year - Stockport tunnels. Armed with flash lights, we had a fascinating tour of the network of tunnels dug especially to provide a safe haven for the residents of Stockport during the air raids of World War II. We saw row upon row of three-tier bunk beds (which brought back memories of uncomfortable nights in the Snowdownia moutain rescue centre), rows of toliets (flushing and otherwise), tool stores, kitchens, prision cells, and a very swish-looking medical centre.
Being several metres underground, it was very damp and there were droplets of water dripping from the metal mesh of the bunk beds and from the moss growing from the ceiling. I suppose a bit of damp was nothing compared to the risk of having your house fall on top of you!
We spent the evening in admiration; of the proactivity of the minister who commissioned the tunnels, of the engineering skill in 'building' them, of the organisation of thousands of scared people, of the comaradarie that develops in times of adversity...
Why are these tunnels not more widely appreciated? Several people who have lived in the area all their lives had not even heard of them!
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