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Mixed feelings...

I went back to my old home town today.

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.

Life eh?


I grew up in a small town in Northern California. Went back there a couple of years ago.
If a town could be a Waling Dead zombie, that was it. A lifeless shell of what it once was.
You are a gifted writer. I love to stroll with you. You bring some purity to blogs. Fresh air, and I thank you for it.

If I'd known of this place twenty years ago, did this place exist twenty years ago? And Pandora, oh how she tried to encourage me. Too little too late I'm afraid. Doesn't bear thinking about now. Come to think of it, I wouldn't have had a computer then. One can but wonder. So often when I went out, there would be a running commentary going on in my head with no-one to tell it to. With a lot of help from a place like this. What might have been eh? I simply don't feel the joy of wandering or the inclination to wander now.

Many years ago when we traveled to sea-side towns for holidays all I wanted to do was roam the back-streets and just suck it all in. Y'know? Life, people, the nooks and the crannies.

Life eh?
I hope I’m still living while I’m alive. Hmmm. Something to ponder.
Just going through the motions here sas. I doubt that you'd call how I live from day to day " living ".
The only reason for my being is to work and pay bills. There isn't much else. Just seeing out my time as peacefully as I can and, as someone in here put it, taking the route of least resistance.
I can see why you were glad to get back on the bus, dither. I am always glad to get back home to what I call home for the past 20 years. I think the past becomes larger than life in our minds until we revisit it. A lot depends on the sorts of memories we have, of course, and what we find when we return to visit. Something in us wants to preserve the best as we knew it, and we are not often prepared to see it change.

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