IN January 1994 The Mail was at Dalton’s Cavendish Arms to find out more about the Dalton Folk Club.

The world of folk music, reported The Mail, was: “A world where the trees are always willows, promises are always broken, loves are always lost, lives are always wasted .”

The club had moved its venue back to the Cavendish Arms from Barrow in November 1993.

Membership of the club had soared to nearly 100. Attendances at the fortnightly gatherings had swollen to between 50 and 60.

Chair of the club Alan Towse was pleased with the response.

“We have never had less than 60 people turning up,” he said.

“But the really encouraging thing is at least 30 per cent of the audience and performers have been different on each occasion.”

The Mail reported there was a series of songs and monologues, some impromptu, others - judging from all the acoustic guitars, flutes and fiddles leaning against the walls - less so.

On to the stage stepped Alan Lamb, modestly explaining: “I haven’t sung since 1970 so you’ll have to bear with me,” before he began an a cappella rendering of 21 Years - a tale of a truck driver’s life behind the wheel.

Alan’s voice rose and fell impressively, the song all regrets and what might have been.

He gave a brief nod of the head at the end before returning to his seat.

“Not bad after a lapse of almost a quarter of a century.

"The audience agreed,” reported The Mail.

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair." Rachel Miller's fine voice quietened the room.

Deeper male voices took up the chorus: "Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme."

Why was folk music so popular again? Graham Atkinson offered this theory: "Perhaps it's the political climate - all the poverty and job losses everywhere.

"At times like these people like to listen to songs about struggle, songs that dwell upon and confront issues that affect us all."