Wendy Young eulogises her home town....RIP My Home Town...more blood and bricks are laid down / 17 October 2013
I shouldn't go back there - even in the online pages of the local chronicle. I know I'll be getting airiated about some new story and find that bit by bit by blow by blow how the soul has been ripped out and replaced with....nothing. Whoopee only this number of murders compared with the next town... only these amounts of muggings in comparison.
And now, the Market that has always been an empty, souless monstrosity but better than homogenised shopping for automatons supermarket, has gone even further into the mire. The oldest stall holder is giving up due to lack of custom (due victory of the enemy - as described above) and no support from the local council except a slap in the face renting stalls to new traders for half the price original holders are paying!
The Market was granted a Royal Charter in 1249 by King Henry 111 and just like my history project at school in the 2nd year when I said Abraham Lincoln was shot, I don't know what to say after this! But doesn't it speak for itself? The town said goodbye to its own brewery and various industries and the biggest blow was the mining industry so I suppose there's nothing left to sell - except arseholes... er our souls!! I banged this poem out so apologies for simplicity.
Requiem for My Home Town
Global enterprise is dehumanising us all
I remember the old market as a little kid
Lit like a fairground
Oldfields caravan huddled with my mother
Glad of pie and peas in ceramic bowls
I've learned since it's reputation crossed boundaries
As a teenager I hated the indoor souless replacement
I just remember darkness and the dull smell of weird chips in plastic trays
Nothing to savour but the past
But still better than a supermarket
The 80s politics destroyed our people
For the 'price of everything value of nothing' brigade
History paled by souless facades
RIP My Home Town.