Down & (not) Out in Boro


Movie Quote of the Day: “Because people have begun to lose their hopes and forget their dreams. So the Nothing grows stronger” – Neverending Story
Name that Tune: “Why does my heart feel so bad?” – Moby
Am in Boro, the old hometown this weekend for a night out with my old pal Al, except that’s not happening now. Despite a re-jiggling of dates – because of an unfortunate incident involving an ex-army male nurse, a small dog & an unexpectedly high utility bill, Al is no longer able to venture North to join me for Paraffin & Lime cocktails aplenty & a sweaty pizza on the way home.
It’s a long & protracted tale that will detract somewhat from my point, so I shan’t go into detail, but the fact remains that I am now in Scuffleborough sans drinking buddy, a town where, according to a lawyer mitigating on behalf of a drunk & disorderly homeless defendant in a recent court case in the town;
“It would seem that in Northumberland, the word is that the streets of Scarborough are paved with gold”
I read this with much amusement in Friday’s Evening News and shall be adding it to my collection of diverting snippets for my Boro News scrapbook.
Meanwhile I’m left in with the M-i-L & childerbeast on a Friday night in Boro, forced to watch ‘Mama Mia’ (again), which tragically, seems to be the DVD of choice at the moment for R&A. Now, happy as I am to singalong to Abba if the mood is right, within 2 minutes of seeing this film for the first time the other week my initial reaction was, “Christ this is bollocks!” So I kept ducking out of the room all evening to go on Facebook, or just simply hide in my room pretending to tidy my suitcase out.
I don’t know what’s the matter with me at the moment but I just can’t clamber out of this flat mood. It’s not even like depressed, miserable or down for any particular reason. It’s just Nothing. A great big empty hole of Nothing.
I took the bus into town earlier today and although I was very happy to see an old school friend and chat to her, I almost started to hyperventilate as the bus went through the old council estate where we lived briefly for a time with my Nan when I was younger. Certain areas of it were a bit dodge back then but to me, today, the entire road seemed like a chavtacular hellhole of crapness; of great big fat teenage girl pramfaces, of thuggish looking 5 year old boys with earrings & grade 1 haircuts; of girls the age of my own daughters, playing in the road dressed like minihookers. Was it always like that? Why did I get the sinking feeling that huge swathes of Britain are like that? It did nothing to lift the Nothing in my head & heart I tell you that much.

A glimmer on the horizon I noted in tonight’s paper is that as part Lifeboat Weekend there will be *Pier Jumping* between 1330hrs & 1400hrs tomorrow. I may well be at the front of the queue to hurl myself into the briny. Anything to shake me out of this torpor & make me feel alive again.

I am looking forward to the Ilkley Moor Festival next week though so I haven’t completely given up the will to live just yet. I do hope the Wierdigans Cafe have a large supply of those yummy & slightly naughty chocolate truffles, as I they may just be my saviour this summer. 🙂

One Response to “Down & (not) Out in Boro”

  1. Michael Says:

    "… a chavtacular hellhole of crapness" has to be the best new phrase I've heard this year. And I know what you mean, parts of Bramley [the Wyther estate] are just like that too.

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