Monday, September 20, 2004

Market Drayton... A summary

Spending the summer in my home town is more like going back to prison for a parole hearing than returning to a place where I should feel at my most comfortable! Don't get me wrong I love my house and being with my family and old friends but the place holds so many bad memories, and don't even get me started on the inhabitants and their overwhelming neanderthal attitude to anything remotely removed from their burbry wearing, sports gear loving townie norm.
The pubs are full of bigoted old men (some not a day over 18), hunkered over bars that have remained unchanged since the 1920's. Fresh out of their 8 hours shifts spent working their job/sentence for life at one of the major factories in town which are as, if not more efficient at churning out these socially stunted racial hatred machines as they are food stuffs! If that weren't bad enough the streets are full of the "cool" youth of the town, with their kappa trousers tucked into their socks, burbry caps perched on heavily greased hair and 16 year old pregnant girl friends in tow, waiting for the day when they can join their older brethren.
The place is full of lost potential, there are very few people between the ages of 18 and 30 as anyone with the slightest chance moves on to pastures greener, the attitude of "work in factory all day, drink at night, get paralytic at weekend then start fight and/or hurl abuse" seems to have permeated through every stone, brick and old tudor oak beam. It's a shame that such a wonderful town with such a proud heritage has become a genetic sess pit full of resentment. My family is leaving for good next year and I for one cannot wait.

Don't cry for me Drayton, I certainly won't cry for you!
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