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As another fellow blogger has recently remarked, in a tone usually taken by my Grandma, "the days are getting lighter." Indeed the mornings are brighter - this morning there's a reassuring plethora of pastels above Meadow Lane. The morning is cold, bitter, unforgiving, yet, the world seems brighter. Maybe it's the music I'm listening to, the hot tea I'm slurping at through the plastic cover, the thought of the weekend, or maybe it's just because the sun is starting to shine!!!
Passing through Radcliffe Power Station, the sun glanced the side of the towers, the steam and smoke plumes a-wake and rest neatly in the sky. I think that's beautiful - industry amongst nature - how it all has its place.
Now, my town has its nice places, good views etc but I cannot appreciate them anymore. I associate them with a lot of negativity ergo they are not beautiful to me anymore. You move away for a few years then return, and you love it. Someone grew up in London and they beg and yearn for the country, and vice versa. Say you grew up in Liverpool. A beautiful city, especially in the Summer. The way the Mersey lights up the city with the glimmering sun dancing over the waves, the architecture, the heritage then you move away.
You go to Sheffield or Manchester or Nottingham to Uni, and you dig that place for a few years. But when you return home you appreciate it - your parents, your town, the way each street has its own smell. Don't tell me Billy Wordsworth didn't pine for the city sometimes - he loved London,
As another fellow blogger has recently remarked, in a tone usually taken by my Grandma, "the days are getting lighter." Indeed the mornings are brighter - this morning there's a reassuring plethora of pastels above Meadow Lane. The morning is cold, bitter, unforgiving, yet, the world seems brighter. Maybe it's the music I'm listening to, the hot tea I'm slurping at through the plastic cover, the thought of the weekend, or maybe it's just because the sun is starting to shine!!!
Passing through Radcliffe Power Station, the sun glanced the side of the towers, the steam and smoke plumes a-wake and rest neatly in the sky. I think that's beautiful - industry amongst nature - how it all has its place.
Now, my town has its nice places, good views etc but I cannot appreciate them anymore. I associate them with a lot of negativity ergo they are not beautiful to me anymore. You move away for a few years then return, and you love it. Someone grew up in London and they beg and yearn for the country, and vice versa. Say you grew up in Liverpool. A beautiful city, especially in the Summer. The way the Mersey lights up the city with the glimmering sun dancing over the waves, the architecture, the heritage then you move away.
You go to Sheffield or Manchester or Nottingham to Uni, and you dig that place for a few years. But when you return home you appreciate it - your parents, your town, the way each street has its own smell. Don't tell me Billy Wordsworth didn't pine for the city sometimes - he loved London,
"The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air."
That really is taking the piss though...London has never been like that..."smokeless air"? But, each to their own I suppose. He probably yearned for London if it was THAT good, especially on his walks around the Lakes with Dorothy, "Fuck me Dozzer...I only want to read a good broadsheet and score some quality Opium...Coleridge knows a bloke down Fleet Street."
I want to escape all this hideousness - get to the countryside, another town, city, country, and live, breathe, walk, run and dive in, then come back home at weekends.
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