Read all about it in the printing room

In the print room of the Chorley Guardian's office on Market Street in the mid 1960s.
Foreman Harold Gee - in glasses, white shirt, black tie - behind reader Ernie, has a grin matching those on faces around him including journalists Simon Moon and Ian Myerscough (extreme right) and Brian Markland (seated extreme left).
Driver John Barton, stands in front of the run of pages, with photographer Zygmunt Daniscewski below him in jacket and tie with hands clasped.
In the print room of the Chorley Guardian's office on Market Street in the mid 1960s. Foreman Harold Gee - in glasses, white shirt, black tie - behind reader Ernie, has a grin matching those on faces around him including journalists Simon Moon and Ian Myerscough (extreme right) and Brian Markland (seated extreme left). Driver John Barton, stands in front of the run of pages, with photographer Zygmunt Daniscewski below him in jacket and tie with hands clasped.

This photograph at the Chorley Guardian in the mid 1960s was taken down in the print room of the newspaper’s office on Market Street.

Those pictured are a team of compositors, typesetters, readers, drivers, journalists. Foreman Harold Gee - in glasses, white shirt, black tie – behind reader Ernie, has a grin matching those on faces around him including journalists Simon Moon and Ian Myerscough (extreme right) and Brian Markland (seated extreme left).

Driver John Barton, stands in front of the run of pages, with photographer Zygmunt Daniscewski below him in jacket and tie with hands clasped.

Everyone seems to be either celebrating a successful run of the weekly on its Thursday press night, or enjoying some ribaldry at errors Ernie has found in the first print-off from the rotary press.

Press night was always a late affair, checking galley proofs to correct bad grammar or sentence construction, correcting literals or bad spellings, reading copy upside down and back to front on the print blocks on the stone, helping the keen-eyed Steve Greatorex go through the sheaves of proofs in his brightly lit but small office on the same floor.

Editor George Birtill, chief reporter Peter Totty and other weary journalists would have been checking final pages in the office upstairs, the editor making sure his strict house style was being observed literally to the letter.

One notable experience a reporter encountered was when writing a tribute article about a retired weaver in his terraced home in Stump Lane.

Taking leave of the widow after the interview, she enquired: “Would you like to see the body?”

Leading the way into the front parlour, she stood back to gesture towards her husband’s peaceful features on a silk pillow in a silk lined coffin, one pale hand lying on the coverlet. Times have certainly changed since then.