My friend who lives in Wolvo maintains that it's a shithole, but I rather like it. This is not least because it was the scene of several formative memories for me...
Going to a Whimpy bar with my dad (but I don't think either of us had a bender burger.
There was a bookshop in Chapel Ash. At one point it was run by a woman who my mother looked down on because she had concluded she was an alcoholic.
Going to the Grand Theatre, where Dame Hilda Bracket actually spoke to me from the stage on the last time I saw them before she died.
It formed the escape for me as a young gay who had my sights set above a life in Lower Gornal.
Going to Mass at Snow Hill on a Saturday evening so that our parish priest would think I had lapsed from the Catholic faith.
I used to get the bus in from school when I was in the sixth form and go cruising.
So even though Wolverhampton is definitely showing signs of today's economic climate, I am still grateful to it in all sorts of ways.
Being addressed by Dame Hilda on its own is reason enough to have fond memories of Wolverhampton, I should think.
ReplyDeleteThe photo is interesting. At first glance, it's a look at some intriguing architecture, but a longer look makes me think that we're getting a glimpse of the sky from the human enclosure at the zoo...
That's exactly the impression isn't it. Welcome back to the real world after your recent travails with gingerbread.
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