It's less a spot than a state of mindWhat's going for it? You'll hear people in Manchester refer to it – as in,"Oooh, she lives up in Saddleworth" – but you'll search in vain for it on the map. They mention it on Corrie, or you'll see road signs. But you never really seem to get to a spot called Saddleworth. It's more a collective noun for a straggle of small towns and villages clinging,down deep valleys, to the side of Saddleworth Moor. Saddleworth is, or perhaps,less a spot than a state of intellect, a sort of Guardian-reading, and Sunday-walk-along-the-canal,comfortably-off state of intellect. Imagine one of Ken Barlow's artsier friends – beads, floral blouse, and a retired lecturer perhaps,with a taste for stirring views, a converted 19th-century stone mill and a spot on the parish committee. Yes, and they're very community minded here. I doubt they beget an evening off with all the brass band competitions,morris dancing festivals and nights out at the White Rose Society. That's just, white. The Lancashire/Yorkshire border's flopped about that much, and there are folks round here who'll defend to the hilt their just to blow a mournful euphonium. You attain realise I'm taking my life in my hands calling this Greater Manchester?The case against The shadow of the Moors Murders still looms large when you mention the name. The sun seems to disappear at about 12.03pm (I'm exaggerating,but only slightly).
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Source: theguardian.com