Before they built the bridge over the canal, before there was a canal… there were Boggarts.

They’re nasty little blighters. Not fairytale creatures at all, more like rats with thumbs. Though they’re as sharp as bramble thorns when they want to be.

They dug their dark little burrows in the boggy ground by Newton Beck and all across Bulk and they whiled away the long winter nights tormenting the poor family who tilled the soil of Ridge farm.

Then the Navvies from the Lancaster Canal Corporation arrived with their picks and their shovels. Any half-way decent Navvie knows not to cross a boggart. Leave it well alone and leave it some milk in a bowl, or even better, a pot of strong beer. The Navvies made their diggings in a long curve and left the boggart holes where you can still see them now, on the far side of the canal.

If you’re very very unlucky, you might just spot a boggart shambling along the canalside but don’t get too close.

They don’t usually bite but as the old navvies knew, if you get too friendly with a boggart, it might just follow you home.