REMINISCING is simply remembering or having a recollection of something. It can also be talking or writing about what you recall. There is nothing wrong with that, but the qualification for doing so is nowhere near so exciting because it means you have to be old enough to remember.

So here am I remembering a story, which was quite true, and one I always liked and I have just been reminded of it while reading a book written by a friend of a friend of mine. I did know the author slightly, so here goes.

In the village of Pilling on the Fylde, where I started farm work and learning about farming, was a caf called Lewis's which had a fine reputation as somewhere you could count on everything being home-made using the best of local produce. People took trips from miles around to enjoy one of their teas.

On one occasion a ladies' trip had just finished a splendid tea when some of the ladies decided to have a walk out to see the village church, which was only a few hundred yards away. They went through the church gates and followed the gravel path, which would take them right around the building. On the way they came across the grave-digger who, having dug one grave, had almost finished another when the ladies stopped for a chat. Seeing two newly-dug graves prompted one dear lady to say: "Do people often die in Pilling then?" To which the chap replied: "Nay, nobbut yance!"

Less than a mile from the caf stood the old mill, which is now a dwelling. It stands tall in the landscape and, as you would expect, is a well-known landmark. As lads, we often rode past it on our bikes and marvelled at the tall building, but we would carry on our journey without further thought of the mill.

However, as the writer Wilf Curwen tells it, the windmill was built on the site of the old watermill that lack of water had made obsolete.

The reason the windmill was so tall went like this Pilling was lower than sea level and also very flat. Whereas many windmills were built on high land, Pilling Mill had to be a tall one in order to make the best use of the wind needed to produce the power to turn the huge stones grinding locally-grown oats into oatmeal.

The windmill was built in 1808 and, at 75ft high, was a great feat of engineering, there being none of today's modern equipment. The sails were removed in 1866 and the mill was then powered by a coal-fired steam engine.

It is reported that when the cap or crown of the mill was removed by crane in readiness for conversion to a dwelling, the crane driver said his instruments recorded 5 tons when he had the sails shaft on the end of his jib - a tribute to the chaps who got it up there all those years ago.

The tale is told about how one of the workmen still being the worse for drink on a Monday morning was taught a lesson. One particular Monday morning his mates grabbed him and, after tying him to one of the sails, took him up to the top, a height of 100ft, and left him there to sober up. They were asked what he was like when they got him down to which they replied "Thankful, we think".

Dialect word: Ask meaning a cold, sharp wind.

Thought for the day: History is to the nation what memory is to the individual.