My hometown
When I was growing up and still in school, I thought my hometown was a rancid shitpit of nothing deadheads. "There's nothing to do!" was the constant cry. There were only 8000 people, the shops ranged from McKays all the way to a John Menzies. Most of them were family-run businesses, like the butchers, the sweet & video shop, the bakers. There were numerous churches, pubs and a bingo, which seemed to saisfy all the adult entertainment. It was right on the coast, but immediately led straight into barley-growing and cattle-raising countryside. Nothing to do!!

After I grew the fuck up, I realised that I had been an arrogant little twat and that it was a great place to being up a family - where you could leave your doors open, where you got to know your neighbours, where you could have a personal relationship with the various professionals in town, such as the banks (yes! it's true - if they knew you they would be far more accomodating. I've moved halfway round the world and have still got my account based in my home town), the schoolteachers, garage mechanics and pub landlords. The football boys club was manned entirely by volunteers, as were the army cadets, the Guides and Brownies, the Scouts and the Boys Brigade, all of which were well-attended.

I don't want to overstate how great it was (it was a bitchy, nosy place), but it's easy to overlook the virtues of a smaller less flashy places. Shops and all that may be nice, but is that all you want from where you live?
(McChinaman banned, Mon 2 Nov 2009, 1:35, Reply)