Up Town

I've just been up town. That is, I've been into Lancaster town centre for a little wander. No one wanted to come with me, but that was alright because I quite fancied being alone with my thoughts today, which is really why I chose town. Also, Matthew's still tired. In fact, they all are because it's hot at night and none of them are sleeping very well. But we're all in the same boat, eh?

I parked next to the White Cross pub and decided that my mission today was to cover as many streets in town as I could before I got too tired to go any further. 

Here's the first one. The outskirts are starting to close in on the lovely old buildings in the town centre. They're all made from this yellowish brick, all smooth and characterless, all with balconies to make them look fancy. I'm not impressed. 

See, what you need in Lancaster are odd-shaped buildings that are shaped oddly for no good reason. Lancaster should be as quirky-looking as York but it isn't. It's been allowed to get too modern.

I took the paths less trodden by myself this evening, keen as I was to see lots of streets that I haven't seen for a while. I suspected there might be tears, and I was right. But not yet.

And still not yet, because I'm well used to seeing empty streets and roads now, as we all are. It's still haunting and strange, but it doesn't make me weepy. One nice thing about empty roads is that I think I notice the buildings more – they really stand out because there are no distractions at all. 

Oh, this was where my boyfriend used to sit to wait for me after school. You'll recall I went to a girls' school, so I thought I was sooooo cool to have a boyfriend. Idiot. Loads of people had boyfriends; I wasn't special. Tut, ridiculous woman. 

This is a really nice cafe. My brother Terry and I had a creative brainstorming afternoon in the window there, looking like hipsters, drinking our posh coffee and eating some fancy waffles or something. I can't remember what we were eating, but it was probably hipster food. 

Round a few corners and up a couple of streets, and this was where Laurence Binyon was born. He's the chap who wrote the very famous poem 'For The Fallen', with the extremely famous verse:

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

So, this was where the tears started because this is my school. I haven't been up this way for a very long time and was not expecting tears because I can't say that I particularly loved school. Alright, the sixth form was pretty darned awesome, actually, and some of my old pals are reading this. Evenin', ladies! Drinks when the pubs open? Nice one.

The old girl's still there, though – with some new bits tacked on, of course. But she's still looking splendid and old and stately and proud.  

We weren't really allowed to go in this way because the front door was for visitors and important people. We did sometimes sneak in, though. It has a St. Trinian's look about it, doesn't it? It used to have a definite St. Trinian's way about it as well, and I'm sure it still has. I could tell you some stories – but I won't because there's no statute of limitations in the UK.

I will tell you this, though, because I don't think anyone will care now, 25 years after the fact. The tiny room at the top of that hexagonal tower used to be where they kept all the English books; the week I left, a few of us sneaked up there just to be bad 'uns and because we'd never been allowed up the spiral staircase. I don't remember if anyone else took anything, but I stole a copy of Pride and Prejudice and one of Emma, because that's how much I loved Jane Austen. I still have them on my bookcase and am looking at them right now.

And this bit of pavement was where my friend Kathy and I found £40 and kept it. Kathy bought two pairs of shoes and I can't remember what I spent mine on. And that was my life as a criminal. 

I wandered up Dallas Road after this, drying my tears and laughing at myself. I have absolutely no memory of my last day at school and I wonder if that's because I couldn't wait to leave or because I was so distraught and didn't want to leave that my brain has locked it all away somewhere for later use. I do remember coming back for a reunion, though. It was really nice, and I enjoyed it up until the point when one particular teacher I won't name looked me up and down (I was six months pregnant at the time) as if I was the sluttiest slut that ever slutted around. I just grinned at her and said, 'yes, it's my third.' Cowbag. She never liked me.

Here's The Storey. This is another place where Terry and I did some creative brainstorming. It's not quite as hipsterish as Journey Social because no one can see you from the street – hipster places work best when the hipsters can be on display in their goddam cool clothes and jaunty caps, bless their little hearts. The Storey does serve gigantic rustic doorstop toast, though, with butter made from the milk of unicorns. 

Ohhhh, the Merchants. Now then, this was where I, and many, many of my friends, spent our late teens and half of our twenties. It used to be such a great, great pub. You could go in here on your own and you would always find someone you knew to sit at the bar with, or down one of the three bays. Just like Cheers, where everybody knows your name. This pub has some history, obviously, because it's been here since 1688; but I don't know any details and I've not been able to find any for you. All I can say is that I think the whole place used to be used as a beer cellar and that it's connected by tunnels to the river and had something to do with smuggling – that might be a myth, though. 

I dried my tears again and was off once more. No time to dawdle if I wanted to see lots more streets.

Next was Waterstones and its Harry Potter window. More tears. I mean, I can watch Harry Potter any time I like, and I've got all of the books three times because I'm a massive fan; no, I wasn't crying at the Harry Potter window, I was crying because Waterstones is closed and I've bought so many books from here. Alright, I've bought books from here while we've been locked down and two new ones arrived just yesterday, but browsing online really isn't the same. It's about as satisfying as reading a book on a goddam Kindle. Ugh, awful. Yes, yes, I know, some people love their e-readers and all power to you if you're one of them. But you won't change my mind – many have tried.

I passed this old bookshop and I realised that I've never actually been in it. I don't know if anyone's ever been in it. It's like Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, now I come to think of it: nobody ever goes in and nobody ever comes out.

I wandered around the very centre of town next, through one of the arcades, which is now enormous, cavernous, echoey. Every shop is closed and every one has a covid-19 sign taped to the door. Still feels strange, doesn't it?  

So, because there was no one around and because I am a child, yes, I did pirouette along all of these benches. I say pirouette, but I actually mean that I hefted my considerable bulk up with great difficulty, tottered ungracefully across and then dropped heavily to the ground before doing it again on the next one. At least I tried! 

I think Market Square is probably the very centre of town. You'll recall that this was where my grandad Wilf had his rooftop parkour adventures when he was a young lad. Today, this is where I paused for a breather and some water because it was very warm, and I clocked a police van driving up Penny Street so I thought I'd better move in case they saw me and decided I should be fined. I don't think they would because I never touch anything when I'm out, and I never get close enough to anyone to breathe on them or be breathed on, but you never know.

This was where I sat for my rest. I've showed it to you before, but I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that some committee thought this was a good replacement for a fountain. I think this is the strangest place to be in town right now because the quiet is the most impactful here. It's usually bustling, and there are usually children spilling their McDonald's fries and milkshakes on the steps, and pigeons picking off dropped food. Man, we're pretty gross, aren't we? 

Of all the places to have closed, this might be the one I'm most sad about. Yup, we can watch films on TV and stream them on Netflix and Prime and that's all great. But I do love the cinema. Incidentally, this is called Anchor Lane because the pub I'm standing next to used to be called the Blue Anchor, and it was a proper pub, with a sticky floor and low ceilings and dark corners. I think they should change it back to the Blue Anchor.

I wandered off to Penny Street next and saw this. Nice. I mean, I don't set foot in Lush if I can help it because the smell of bath bombs is enough to knock out a full-grown man and I'm not a fan of patchouli. But the sign is nice, and it's true: this too shall pass.

I'd visited one arcade so I might as well have a look at the other – we only have two, Lancaster is, as I keep saying, very small. There was a bird in here somewhere. I could hear it but I couldn't find it. I followed the sound of its frantic chirping but I couldn't make out quite where it was coming from. I suspect it's trapped in a closed shop.

HMV. This is of no particular significance, I just wanted to remind myself that I really want to watch this film. Don't ya just love car films? I do.

A rainbow at The Crafty Scholar. Nice.

I always think of this as being the way to the children's library, even though the children's library isn't there anymore. It was a great children's library; very old fashioned, with little squishy chairs and tiny tables and shelves and shelves and shelves of wonderful books. And we did use it. It's been absorbed into the main library and I guess it's still nice, but not the same. It doesn't have that Neverending Story feel about it.

This is Bashful Alley. It really is quite shy. 

I was on my way back to the car now. I'd seen enough, and while there had been tears, I was quite cheery because it had been very nice to see town. And it will open again, we know that. It's going to be a looooooong summer if we can't go to the pubs, but they'll be back next year ... I really hope! I don't even go to pubs much, but like most of us right now, I'd give a lot to be able to sit in a beer garden with a nice cold pint.  

Everything has turned green since we started all of this, have you noticed? I think the fact that I now see the seasons is probably my favourite thing about walking every day. And actually writing about it makes me notice even more because I have to look at all of my photos and think about what I've seen in order to tell you where I've been. This is all very good stuff!

Here's Dalton Square, where my doctor's surgery is. 

And here's Queen Victoria again. You can sit on this ... what is it? A monument? Well, you can sit on it because that's a seat at the bottom and it goes all the way round. We've had lots of impromptu picnics here and the boys have run around Victoria hundreds of times. She was a pretty cool lady, it must be said.

My car was just up the hill from here but I wanted to see one more thing ...

I wanted to know what the town hall looked like if I lay down on the pavement. It looks like this. Very imposing. Is it some kind of attention-seeking disorder that I have, do you think? That I need to sit or lie in places people don't normally sit or lie? It probably is. But then, anyone who writes a blog and invites other people to read it is probably the kind who quite likes attention.  

I walked 2.8 miles around town today and didn't see anywhere near all of the streets. I'll save those for another day.

Until tomorrow, when it will be a short walk and possibly a dark one because I'm tired now.

WQ