So it appears that the lovely Council in this neck of the woods are planning to overhaul the town centre, yet again. Talk of Phoenixes rising from the ashes abound and the usual pictures of smiling, dead-eyed politicos presenting and poring over their pretty little artist’s impressions fill the local news-sheet. We’ve been here before, countless times, and nothing of any true substance ever arises.
Yes, we had the shiny bus station but that rapidly lost it’s lustre and is now, as ever, a depressing reminder of the lack of thought and emphasis given to public transport in this country. Already, within a few short years of its arrival, the cracks are showing: uncared for, badly maintained and poorly planned, it is going the way of many bus stations, down-hill.
And the open air shopping facility attached to our bus station. Oh those heady days when the smiley German walked through on her World Jubilee Tour, opening stuff that smelt strongly of fresh paint, newly laid tiles and workers’ sweat. Gone are the multinational and even nationally known stores, victims of Meadowhell and recession, we are told.
And now the town smells only of depression, pasties and the vomit of last night’s revellers. The only smell of paint being the whitewash on the windows of another recently closed store. But don’t lose sleep over this single home-town for, without doubt, every other home-town is its replica. And why? Does every town have it’s Meadowhell to drag the last few quid from the punters pocket? We think not. And no, this process was well under way prior to recession giving that particular route of explanation a slap in the face. Perhaps this has more to do with the dead-eyed, dead-souled ones holding their pretty little pictures, their lack of foresight as they licked at the arses of their masters throughout the latter years of the 20th century clearly apparent. Dumb-ass policies laid down by dumb-ass politicos and followed by dumb-ass planners. And now more. Look no further, there’s the cause.