2014 for myself has been for overall a flat year. A year of looming peaks and plunging
troughs. It kind reminds me of what US
President Richard Milhous Nixon said, when he said that you have to experience
the dark valleys before you soar upwards.
I guess he should no. It has been
a year of humbling triumphs and unexpected and at times heart breaking lows.
First and foremost this year marks my 10th
anniversary of living in Bristol, the land of the free and the home of the
brave. I hadn’t planned on staying
here. It just kind of happened. But overall I am pleased I have. Not only for better or worse is Bristol the
city I grew up in, it is also where I met my future wife. The latter alone makes the mouldy rented
rooms and innumerable faceless and otherwise crap jobs I have experienced
during my stay here. Nearly half of that
time has been spent in university; first time around at UWE 2004-2007 and
latterly in the University of Bristol 2012-2013. It seems to me that many of the most
enjoyable years of my life have been when I have been studying in
university. And so I have resolved that
somehow and at whichever institution will take me, I will one day go for a
doctorate and I will get one. I could
quite happily settle down in a career in academia. Being paid to be a nerd seems to be the way
forward for someone like me.
As for the city itself I maintain that it is one of the most
unique cities in Britain. While we
Bristolians chafe at most tourists turning back to go home via London as soon
as they have seen UNESCO world heritage site Bath, Bristol has a lot to
offer. The docks and the disused cranes
there attest to its long maritime history as in many ways does its
institutions. The University of Bristol
itself has the dirty little secret of having early grants from the colonial era
tobacco companies. Some of the grand
houses in the centre were the homes of plantation owners. In terms of our more radical history I am
particularly proud of the fact that to protest the failure of one of the Great
Reforms bills, Bristolians showed their displeasure by burning down the Mansion
House, the home of the Lord Mayor, hence why we now have a New Mansion
House. Earlier on in our history more
significant history was made in the Seven Stars Tavern just off Victoria
Street. There just a few roads back from
the East India docks where the slave trade flourished, Thomas Clarkson worked
feverishly with his campaigners to gather evidence against the trade to be
presented by William Wilberforce in Parliament. Then there is the 1963 Bristol Bus Boycott against discrimination. And then mine and my fellow republican crews motley protest on the event of the Queen's visit to Bristol in 2012. They have yet to put up a plaque for the last one, but I am sure it is in the works ;-)
Anyway the Bristol shortlist is as follows. Best pubs: Llandoger Trow on Kings Street and
The Hatchet (for atmosphere and authenticity) then Commercial Rooms on Corn
Street for price and the beautiful building.
Best takeaway: Rendezvous on Denmark Street hands down (especially since
the Cuban Chippy has been bought up).
Most likely place to be bit by a vampire: Lawrence Weston. Most likely to have a piece of kerb thrown at
the back of your skull while riding on a bus: Fishponds. Most likely place to be bitten by a hipster:
Stokes Croft. Most likely place to speak
to be accosted by a posh drunkard: Clifton.
Well after that strange love sonnet to Bristol lets get it
over with recalling the shit things that happened this year. At the start of the summer a friendship of
mine which has lasted nearly as long as my stay in Bristol came to an end. After racking my brains over what happened I
have come to two main conclusions. The
first is that both of us grew up into very different people who eventually got
to the point where they didn’t see eye to eye.
Now I don’t normally care very much about how similar someone is to
myself in personality. I tend to make
friends with varied, passionate,
friendly, approachable and strange people.
There is no standard type for my coalition of the strange. The second conclusion I came to was that
throughout those 10 years I should have listened to my friends, that is my real
ones. Time and time again they warned
me. And time and time again I made excuses
for this person’s behaviour. Since I
consider myself to be socially dysfunctional I decided to him a pass on this
score. But I did this one too many times
and decided to ignore what I should have recognised all alone. I owe the friends who warned me a debt I can
never repay. I have been made a fool
of. And when the end came in a flurry of
long and self-serving texts I felt like I had been hit by an emotional wrecking
ball. I don’t exaggerate when I say I
was the most angry I have ever been in my life.
I wanted to hit something, anything or anyone. But I got this indignity at work so I just
sank in my chair till the end of my shift then stormed out. The crying came later. I didn’t cry over losing him as a
friend. I cried about being treated in
such a way, not knowing why and being faced with a flurry of text messages
ending in a statement that I wasn’t “awesome” enough to hang out with. I cut this person off like a diseased
appendage and I hope I never see them again.
It was a tough few months but now I feel like I am coming out of the end
of it.
2014 marked myself and Anna’s departure from our mould
infested flat in Bishopston for our lovely new abode in Kingsdown. The former was like living in a bad comedy
sketch show since everything was falling apart and the agency couldn’t care
less. Now we live where we do I smile a
lot more. I smile at our area, a
characterful area with Victorian style street lights and charming cobbled
streets. I smile when I turn a power
socket on because I know that unlike the last place this one wouldn’t fall off
of the wall. No matter when I get up in
the morning, even my savage early shifts, I always smile and look at the
amazing view we have. Every day I wake
up to a view covering eastern and south eastern half of much of the city and
look with amazement. Castle Park, Cabot
Circus, Totterdown and the city centre can all be seen from our humble
apartment. This move wouldn’t have
happened if not for the help of some special people, they know who they
are. They will always have my thanks.
No comments:
Post a Comment