The glass facade of Barclays Bank shimmers in the warm March sunshine.
Inside, there is a queue of just half a dozen people, but as they are standing metres apart the line snakes out of the shop and across Bury’s main shopping street.
It’s the most people I’ve seen all morning.
On a typical Wednesday, the town centre bustles with shoppers and workers visiting the shops and restaurants that make up The Rock Shopping Centre.
Today, only a handful of people pass by. Those who do are carrying supermarket shopping bags
.
Every now and then, a voice echoes along the strip, the sound bouncing off the fronts of the empty shops.
Only those deemed 'essential' remain open: Barclays Bank, Superdrug, Holland & Barrett, and Wilko.
It’s an eerie, surreal scene, the reality of lockdown in Bury.
On a day where pubs and café would usually be teeming with people enjoying the unseasonably warm weather, the square in front of Bury Parish Church is deserted.
As the clock strikes midday, the chimes of the church bell ring around the empty streets.
A couple walk by wearing face masks. They step to one side to keep their distance from me. I do the same. It feels rude, but necessary.
On Monday, Prime Minister Boris Johnson ordered the British public to stay at home as the number of coronavirus cases continues to rise.
People were told they could only leave to exercise once a day, shop for essential goods or fulfil medical and care needs.
Those who flout the measures were warned they face fines and, in Bury at least, people appear to be taking the threat seriously.
Posters pinned to the doors of businesses inform customers that they will be shut 'until further notice'.
On Haymarket Street, the customary line of black cabs has vanished, while the pubs and takeaways are locked and shuttered.
A sign in the window of one reads: “Stay safe everyone, we will be back.”
Over the road at Bury Interchange, buses still wait but passengers are in short supply; an elderly man and his two bags of shopping the lone travellers on the 95 service to Salford.
The bus station's shop is still open, but trade is slow.
“I think you should buy something,” a woman behind the counter practically pleads as I walk by.
Elsewhere, Mill Gate Shopping Centre is partially closed.
Benches normally occupied by pensioners taking a break from their shopping, or workers on their lunch break, have been taped off to encourage social distancing.
Here, like at The Rock, only a smattering of shops are still trading.
One of those is Specsavers, which has kept its branches open for emergencies only.
Speaking from behind a metal shutter, a worker explains that closing the shop would only increase the demand on health professionals already under immense pressure due to the pandemic.
In other shops, workers stare forlornly into the middle distance from behind counters, the boredom and bewilderment plain to see.
It’s slightly busier at Strawberry Gardens, a grocery shop in Princess Parade, where three or four customers are shopping for fruit and vegetables away from the hustle and bustle of the supermarkets.
As I head back to my car on the first floor of a near-empty car park, a man calls out to me from across the street.
"Isn't it eerie?" he asks. "It's like a ghost town."
He's not wrong.
The town is unrecognisable, and it’s difficult to comprehend the speed at which the world we knew has been flipped on its head.
As the nation comes to terms with being in lockdown, the barren streets and empty shopping centres are likely to be here for some time.
