Walking down the big hill from my childhood home to the train station yesterday, I felt a pang of something. I looked out to the view stretching out ahead of me: the rolling hills, green fields and huge, open expanse of country. Beautiful, someone more poetical than me might say.
I felt a pang that said to me, in not so many words: “maybe you misjudged this place. Maybe living here the first 18 years of your life coloured your judgement too negatively. Maybe being so heavily ingrained in the day-to-day grind of dealing with the people and places of this town made you think unfairly of the area around you. Maybe – just maybe – you were wrong about Swinton.”
I was in a particularly hungover, tired and otherwise bad mood, so this thought stuck with me as I sat in the windswept train station as dusk washed over the town. Even though I was staring straight at a scrapyard, it looked… nice. It was so quiet. Bournemouth isn’t a huge place, but it’s noisy all of the time. It was weird to be somewhere without planes flying over every ten minutes and a stupid bastard living on this street who idles his stupid muscle car for ages before driving off way too fast for the residential streets we live on (and I’m definitely not jealous of his car no siree not me).
It was pretty, and it was relaxing, and I felt calm for the first time in quite a while.
I thought my opinion of my hometown might have suddenly changed; that I had hit that realisation that comes in later life when you see something isn’t as bad as you once thought.
Then I remembered that on Friday just two minutes after arriving in town I was forced to change my route home in order to avoid the behooded men attacking a parked car with a golf club.
So yeah, Swinton is still shit.
I can’t remember how this came about, which removes some of the Fun Discovery Factor from this entry, but the sentence was languishing in my drafts, waiting to be written up. “People my age/younger still have that “cool” thing about not being able to use the internets. MORONS,” it said. And it is very true.
I have mentioned the whole ‘not had the internet all my life’ thing before, and as a result of that people of my age are in a situation where they got into the whole web thing later. Later even than I. Or some haven’t even got into it properly, for whatever reason – I don’t judge, nor do I demand people use the nets all the time.
What I cannot get on board with is the morons who will snort derisively at the fact you use the internet for more than an hour a day, and for more than just football/celebrity news (though they are now interchangeable. SATIRE). You use the internet? HAH SADDO WHAT A NERDY LOSER.
Now I’ll admit I’m not the most social of butterflies, and will gladly sit indoors on a sunny day perusing amusing videos of cats falling off things, so I am a SADDO NERDY LOSER. But these unnamed people who I cannot provide an example of right now (but who do exist) seem to believe that any use of any computer for an extended period is tantamount to getting Captain Kirk’s face tattooed on your face in order to make you look like Captain Kirk.
I’d pity them for not realising the internet is a wonderful tool – or at least can be. You can learn, find lost memories from your past, connect with those you haven’t spoken to in years, look at pictures of bare ladies and watch videos of more cats falling off more things. To make a character judgement based on such a thing as the use of an incredibly widely-used infrastructure of information (and cat videos) is… stupid. Basically.
Ohhhh, I’ve just remembered who these people were: ones from my home town. That explains a lot.