![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hirezI think I shall be vaguely sad about the vanishment of Habitat. It sort of marks the end of a potential alternative retro-future that I never quite got around to having.
Y'see, before they flattened the brewery in the middle of Cheltenham, a Habitat was to be found at the end of the Prom opposite Neptune and the Regal (not to be confused with the Gaumont or Daffodil). As small children, we'd wander round the place with Ma, entranced by the strange things for sale: non-rusty Kilner jars, earthenware things in the shape of fish, glass things for pasta storage (what was this pasta stuff?) and corduroy sofas from Space:1999. For all of us, it was like visiting a museum filled with artifacts from an unknowable civilisation. One might make guesses at the function of an object, but that usage would be evidence of an alien and decadent universe where there was smoking, jazz and unruly body hair.
And then I realised that I wanted to live there.
... Which, for safety's sake I had forgotten about until yesterday.
Y'see, before they flattened the brewery in the middle of Cheltenham, a Habitat was to be found at the end of the Prom opposite Neptune and the Regal (not to be confused with the Gaumont or Daffodil). As small children, we'd wander round the place with Ma, entranced by the strange things for sale: non-rusty Kilner jars, earthenware things in the shape of fish, glass things for pasta storage (what was this pasta stuff?) and corduroy sofas from Space:1999. For all of us, it was like visiting a museum filled with artifacts from an unknowable civilisation. One might make guesses at the function of an object, but that usage would be evidence of an alien and decadent universe where there was smoking, jazz and unruly body hair.
And then I realised that I wanted to live there.
... Which, for safety's sake I had forgotten about until yesterday.
