Norton of Morton

Read a new instalment of Norton of Morton every Saturday at 4 o'clock

Saturday 24 September 2016

Summer's last hurrah

In which G.M. Norton becomes a seersucker-wearing shouty man.

Last Saturday, I went along to Salford's Big Day Out where I spent the day sauntering around with a megaphone in my hand making announcements. 

Think of me as a town crier, only at a festival, and wearing an American seersucker suit.


Saturday 17 September 2016

Revisiting my past

In which G.M. Norton goes on a time travelling meander. 

I live around five miles from Rochdale, a small town in the north west of England.

From the age of 16 to 22, I worked in the town and but now I only occasionally visit. It's been a good three years or so since I had a proper mooch around.

This week I had a small errand to run visiting the magnificent Rochdale Town Hall. 

It really is a stunning building. According to folklore, Adolph Hitler was rather keen on it and had plans to have it moved elsewhere. While I was there, I decided to have a little wander.

Saturday 10 September 2016

Missing mojo and 4th birthday celebrations

In which G.M. Norton finds his missing mojo.

For a couple of months, my mojo has been missing. I penned something about feeling out of sorts back in July.

Well, chumrades, you will be delighted to discover that I have now been reunited with it.

It turns out, my mojo wasn't really missing at all, I'd merely left it in a drawer and forgot all about it!

As luck would have it, the triumphant return of my mojo has coincided with this periodical's fourth birthday celebrations. My first ever periodical entry can be found this way.


Saturday 3 September 2016

Is it autumn yet?

In which G.M. Norton looks ahead to his favourite time of the year.

Now we're in September, I simply can't wait for autumn to be here. I'm not one for summer, I must confess. 

Don't get me wrong, it's nice to have a little sunshine and clear blue skies. Indeed, I've just returned from a summer jaunt away with the family. But I do so terribly miss my finest tweeds and woollens. 

With my favourite season on the horizon, I've greedily been lusting over photographs of tweed ensembles. 

Don't these pictorials (purloined from Cordings) just look grand?

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