Funny how the past can be remember/looked upon so fondly. Too fondly perhaps. There must have been good times of course. Not to mention one's youth and childhood. It wasn't ALL bad.
Today, walking down Cambridge Street towards the town centre, remembering Goode's the old Fishmonger's, I can see all so vividly in my mind's eye.The whole shop-front, and it was a fair width, must have been a good twenty meters or so, was completely open and although it WAS a fishmonger's it was more like a fish and wild game emporium. Through out the winter months there would be Pheasants, rabbits, hares, pigeons just to name a few hanging from meat-hooks on the walls. Now it's a dinghy looking place called "Creepie crawlies". Ugh!
Halfway down, just about opposite Goode's there was the Chequers, a real old spit and sawdust establishment and the at the bottom stood " The Cambridge " a bigger, slightly more respectable boozer.
The Chequers is still a pub but is a much smarter place nowadays and the Cambridge is an Italian Restaurant.
I do miss the old town but I wouldn't want to live there now.
What used to be the market place, well, it's still there but it bears little resemblance to what used to be. As I walked between what few stalls there are now, I could hear an acoustic guitar being played, and you know what? He could play that thing.
A black man , must have been in his fifties, wearing a bright red jump-suit and sporting dreads, pumped out riggy from one of the stalls on a blaster, a bit loud for my liking and not really my kind of thing.
A street dweller sprawled on the grass in the churchyard, with his bare feet up on two black bin-liners filled with what I took to be his worldly belongings. I caught my bus and wasn't sorry to be going back to where I now call home. Fond memories but I didn't look back as the bus pulled out.