A Winter Postcard

This week has been very busy, I have officially become a Graduate and it was a beautiful day. An experience I will never forget, a wholesome and gracious day of thanks to friends and family who have become a sturdy support system over the past three years and beyond.

I was returning to my university town from a different perspective, one of knowingly not returning for a while, one where I wouldn’t be a habitant or a temporary resident. Falmouth in Cornwall became my home for the majority of the year during my studies, I had an alternating relationship with my university town. I would start my first semester in Autumn and slowly as the days were growing shorter and the winds off the shore were quickening, it became cold and dark and constricted what we could do with our time after college. It was a lonely time for the town. Daphne Du Maurier writes about Cornwall and the harsh winters in many of her books,In Jamacia Inn her description of the Bodmin moors and their destructive winters poigniantly portray the realities that the season brings with it and you can’t help but feel isolated and cold.

Falmouth was hit hard by its winters. The number of tourists rapidly decreased as the distant location meant that the flow of tourists didn’t make their way down to Falmouth peninsula. It was noticeable, the winds were damaging in more ways than one, their economy must have taken a hit, apart from the influx of students keeping it a float I wonder how small tourist towns can survive and whether locally, the town find these quiet months intolerable or whether they find solace in the hushed atmosphere of their home town, a time for the town to relax as it waits in apprehension for the summer foreigner. I found that I was seasonally affected by the winter, my friends and I were confined to our houses, not a lot of activities were orientated around the cold except an expensive cinema showing older releases and lots of restaurants and bars which required pennies in our pockets. There is plenty of land to be discovered and shore lines to admire but in these winter months it is a struggle to find anything that will amuse and keep you warm.

As the clocks are adjusted forward and the sun begins to heat the coasts, spring arrives and moves swiftly to summer.  The image of the sea side town becomes more desirable and I blessed my inhabitance  in Cornwall. Summer offers so much in comparison to Winter. It literally transforms in every aspect, regular markets bringing in food locally sourced and seasonally selected, tourists flock in abundance and make walking through the narrow  streets a struggle, certain shops re-opens and the sea becomes a bright, bright blue. A postcard vision.

I was never a tourist to Falmouth, I knew it to well, I had seen the worst side of it and had been lucky enough to see it at its best. To a tourist it has to be one of the most idyllic scenes in Britain. Sometimes I wonder if I had only seen Falmouth as a tourist, if my perception of it would be greater. But having lived there it has more depth, I understand its personality as it changes with the seasons. My closest example where I felt that perhaps I was seeing my town from the tourist point of view was during graduation. I was only there for two days so I lapped up the mini holiday and relished in the views of the beautiful Cornish coasts. I was staying in luxury compared to my previous student accommodation and drinking champagne in celebration so it’s no wonder why I found the whole town incredibly appreciated. I was grateful to see my town this way, I remembered the tough winters and the emptiness, I empathised with sea-side towns hibernating for winters to be contrasted with business and over whelming summer numbers. From seeing this perspective it made me wonder about my relationship to place. Does familiarity hinder what we see? Is it reducing our interpretation of place and space? If we could put on the tourist gaze would we, or is it better to see the good times and bad times, so we as inhabitants can build relationships rather than a passing impression?

Winter looms.

The beginnings of Summer

I love this city, it has my heart.

I probably am a little bias to think that the city I live in is one of the best I’ve ever been to. I guess you either love, hate, or are indifferent to the place you grow up in. I have friends who can’t wait to get to the city, to turn their backs on narrow country lanes, farm yard smells and village neighbourhoods,  in favour of moving to the abundant energy of the bustling urban environment. Then others who despise the cities they live in, and they crave for open spaces and picturesque dusks and dawns. The grass is always greener. But whilst I do love the countryside and I am partial to a long wander in the rolling hills that surround Bristol,I am a home fan, a supporter of my birthplace. I love Bristol, it has my heart. I think why I admire it so much is because I am constantly learning something new about it. If you walk any where in Bristol new or old,  you will find something inspiring and different.

Bristol sits in the South-West of England, some refer to it as the capital of the South-West, I can definitely agree to that title. Technically I don’t live in Bristol, yes I do have a Bristol postcode but it is quite possibly the last and most distant postcode of the infamous BS1. Think what you like but I do live in Bristol. To be honest Keynsham is a 15 minute drive form the centre of Bristol, and it is a place where you practically know someone who knows that person, is a thriving little community boasting weekly markets  and a high-street mainly full of three types of shops: Coffee, Charity and banks. Something for everyone but if that’s not what takes your fancy Eastenders, BBC’s and the United Kingdoms most lovedsoap, is being filmed here next week. The high-street will be closed from 6pm -6am. Hold tight on a blog on this, Keynsham gets excited by the little things.

Back to Bristol because I am a Bristolian, regardless of what the majority of my city dweller friends think.  Bristol has the most beautiful famed and modest bridges, cobbled stones contrasting with new builds that are architecturally stunning. And I couldn’t talk about Bristol without mentioning the B word, Banksy, but the its not only Banksy but the whole of Bristol is artistically engaged, graffiti not only by the man himself but a street full of up and coming artists work sprayed on a discreet entrance to the cities central shopping district. There is a river and plenty of places to sit by it, grazing spots everywhere, where you can spend hours lolling around and it feels like a couple of minutes. Things to do and see, things to say and things to experience. Its big enough to keep you busy but small enough that bumping into a friend is normal. It’s not just me who loves Bristol about a 80% of people I went to University with have moved here. One of my best friends has just moved here, I thought I would spare her a few days before I went to visit her new home but in Bristol you are sure enough going to have a chance meeting. On my way back from work, a dull day at work may I add, I saw Sophie standing there in the distance I stopped and waited until she saw me, it was a surprise but I knew it would happen sooner or later.

Today the city was full of buzz as the annual Bristol Open Doors Day meant that places that are usually restricted to the public are opened, tours take you around behind the scenes of the working city. There was a chance to go underground Temple Meads train station, to see the old air raid shelter. You could go in old churches and backstage at the famous Colston Hall. The city was shining, literally the sun was out and it was a hot September day. People had flocked to the city and with beers and ciders they were relaxing by the river. It is a beautiful Saturday and Bristol makes the most of these days.

If you are ever in the South West, make a trip to Bristol, you will always have me, your Bristolian friend to guide you round the ins and outs and all arounds of my favourite city.