A place I remember

I’m now quite used to living in a metropolis, in one of the biggest, greatest and most culturally diverse cities on earth; the worlds first and thus far only three-Olympic city. It is quite a shock to my system, then, to return to the town where I was born. We just got in from a walk, and, by and large, congleton is just as I remember it. Of course much as changed; new buildings have come up all over the place, most noticeably housing. Yet it seems to retain the essence of the place I always knew; the essence of a sleepy old nineteenth century market and mill town, provincial and stuck in its ways. I cannot help feeling in two minds about it: a small, overly nostalgic part of me, faced with memories associated with every street, says this is where I belong. But another part of me replies ‘not any more’. This is the place of my childhood and adolescence, yet time never halts. Part of me still loves this quiet provincial place, but now I have tasted the wider world, I thirst for more. Walking past the old daneside theatre just now, for example, I couldn’t help remarking to myself that Monty Python could never have performed there.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s