Plus ca change

The reader of this blog may have realised that I no longer live in nasty Crewe, but in slightly less nasty Preston. Actually, I now live in a lovely village just outside slightly less nasty Preston, called Walmer Bridge. The land my estate is on, used to belong to a farmer, until he decided that the hefty chunk of cash the developers were waving in his face, was preferable to waking up at three in the morning to milk his cows and feed his chickens. I mean, who doesn't dream of a life free from financial constraints, even if that means getting rid of the land that's been in your family for generations?

Anyway, we moved up here because I went to uni in Preston. I came here in 1999 to do my degree, and developed a soft spot for it. Preston was my first home in England, so it holds a special place in my heart. Even though it was a thoroughly depressing little town and it rained basically all day, every day during my first year. It was where I met The Princess, The Egan, my mate V and my G. It was where I lost my virginity and first lived with a man. It's where I came out of my shell. I guess I would have felt the same if I'd gone to a similar shit hole, such as Scunthorpe, Skegness or London.

Preston is also where I met Mr Bunny. In a not altogether unplanned coincidence, we actually live on the same estate we met, when he became my new flatmate and then my boyfriend. We only lived in Crewe, because that is where his flat was. He owned it, so when I came back from Trinidad, that is where we lived (apart from my two month stint in Munich).

But I hated Crewe (as is well documented in this blog) and couldn't wait to get out. It was only a matter of time, as we couldn't spend the rest of our lives in the World's Tiniest Flat TM, so it was just a matter of picking a place. Mr Bunny seemed to forget that he was a married man, and was very keen on all these city centre flats, cool they were, but practical they were not. We discussed living in Manchester (and I even viewed a few flats there, including one in the Hilton which had spectacular views), Leeds, Sheffield, Gloucester and I even went to look at a couple houses in a place called Glossop. But my heart was always back in Preston- more specifically, Walmer Bridge.

In the end, I won. As I always knew I would. And I'm fairly happy here. I love our house, I'm closer to some of my friends and Mr Bunny is only ten minutes' drive from work. I can go back to my old church and we're in the catchment area for two 'Outstanding' primary schools (according to Ofsted anyway) and one of them is even Catholic!

So there's been lot's of change, least of which is in Preston city centre. Yes, it's now a city. The uni has expanded almost to the point of silliness. The halls I used to be in charge of, no longer exist and are going to house a new building for the Faculty of Health. They bought a row of council houses that were behind another set of halls, and turned them into a carpark. That makes sense, because they built another Student Services building on one of the other carparks. Good grief.

And don't even talk for the high street! Tokyo Joe's, where we spent many a cheesy Wednesday night, drinking Smirnoff Ice for £1 and throwing some serious shapes, is now called something a lot less fun to remember. The Pizza Hut we used to go to whenever it was someone's birthday, has closed down. The Gap (which used to be a George @ Asda, which used to be a Tesco Metro) is now a JD Sports. Martin Dawes is now a Costa Coffee, Principles has closed down, and the old Woolies is now a giant Next. This has perplexed me, since I think Next is shit. But I guess that's happening to Woolworth's stores across the land. Faith, where The Princess and I spent so much of our free time trying on shoes and stalking the sales, went into administration and so the shop it was in, is now a front for some money laundering operation. Miss Selfridge's has moved into St George's shopping Centre, which is now called 'The Mall'. Eh? Mood, which was a fun place to go on a Friday night, to observe the 'grab a granny' proceedings, has closed down and is now empty. And Bar Censa, where we spent many an afternoon eating chilli cheese fries and drinking hot chocolate, after a hectic day's shopping, and planning our nights out, is now a Chinese Buffet! What the fuck?! Have they no respect for our memories? I mean, a Chinese Buffet, for fuck's sake!

I can't handle all this change. I like routine, the familiar, knowing where you stand. Y'know? I mean, I understand that a lot of stores have gone bust- Principles, Woolworth's, Faith, Zavvi- but even so, I'm going to be all petulant and unrealistic and demand that things stay the same forever. Sigh.

But it's not all bad, because the Topshop was renovated and expanded, and is now over two floors, and is MASSIVE!!

So, swings and roundabouts, eh?

Requiem for a friend

I miss Mad Cat and all his handicapped and freaky friends. As much as I hated and feared him (in equal measure), he was a focal point of day. Mad Cat gave me something to channel my hatred and anger towards. I think I hated him about as much as he did me, and that sort of equilibrium is hard to come by these days.

My new estate is all quiet and posh, and there isn't a disabled animal in sight! The most I've seen is some bloody ugly stripy cat, waiting to be let in outside one of the houses we viewed when we were still on the market for a new house. So now there's no need for me to keep my camera to hand, so I could try to get photographic evidence of three-legged cat pissing in my flowerbed (I'd become a sort of deranged paparazzo, stalking disgusting animals instead of being a functioning member of society). Instead, I look out of my balcony doors and yearn for a stran animal to hobble past, so I can feel normal again. I mean, yes I can walk out to my car without fear of being hissed at and attacked by an insane and possibly feral feline, but is that what life is really about? Who knows the secrets, eh? Sigh.

Mr Bunny does not read this blog, so this is something I can say freely here, without fear of being served with divorce papers. It's the little things, innit?