I never really appreciated the beauty of my town before I turned thirteen. The glorious hills of Rivington Pike in the winter, glazed perfectly in pure, white snow. The great summer sun, parading the exquisiteness of the pale stones that form our beloved Town Hall. The trees within Queens Park sporting elegant pinky-white petals throughout spring, and orangey-brown leaves in my favourite season of autumn.

Queens Park is my favourite place in Bolton, following my initial visit no longer than 24 months ago. Despite my decade in Bolton, I had never really known of its existence until my father took me there on a very sunny Sunday afternoon. We rested upon the grass underneath a towering tree, ice-cream in hand, chatting nonsense until the setting of the sun. That day onwards, I have gone to the park just under fifty times, with every opportunity I get. That place is one of very few places that tie me to this town.

Last year, pre-London Olympics, I went to see my favourite band The Wombats in Queens Park. It was part of an Olympic celebration and included Bolton's very own Amir Kahn bearing the Olympic torch, along many other stars of Bolton. It was thriving with people, bursting with energy and the best part was that it was completely free! During my favourite song Moving To New York, my best friend and I singing and dancing our very hearts out, I turned to see an ocean-like swarm of people around us, mimicking our movements, and I felt part of a community. A great celebration was bringing us together, and together we will forever share the grand experiences of that night.

During January's snowfall, I spent most of my time outdoors. Usually, I prefer to stay inside with a hot cup of chocolate, admiring the wintery scenes from behind a double-glazed window, warm and toasty, with the radiator on maximum heat. I'd never been a fan of the cold. However this year, I invested in a plastic, red sledge from the Pound Shop in town. I was warned by the lady behind the counter not to be too adventurous with it, considering the price. But did I listen to the nice, wise lady? No! I very foolishly did not take into account what she was saying, and this bad decision left me with disturbing consequences.

It was a Saturday, and Bolton had awaked to a fresh batch of snow. My Father suggested we use the new sledge at Queens Park. We climbed with great difficulty to the very top of the hill, and I pushed fairly gently from the top. As i passed my parents i was already reaching great speeds, and as the hill dipped into another hill i reached a nail-biting climax and beneath me, the sledge split into two, leaving me to make it alone - rolling rapidly- to the bottom of the hill. Itâs only recently

I've learnt to appreciate my town, and all of the opportunities and experiences it offers me.

I can only hope that you live in a place as splendid as BOLTON.