Cleobury Mortimer and the curse of Nommo
Feb. 27th, 2005 12:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hirezSplosh.
I thought we were further into Shropshire, rather than just over the border from Worcestershire. Y'see the thing is, me and Worcestershire have a bit of a problem with each other. If there was ever a county that I was going to square up to and go "D'yer fookin' want some? 'Cos you can fookin' 'ave it, pal" Worcester would be the one with the girlfriend going "Leave 'im, it's not worth it."
Anyway, I came back via Tenbury Wells, Bromyard and Ledbury (And on the way up made a point of stopping in Leominster town centre, just because I could.), and dropped in on mummy to scrounge a mug of coffee and say hello. It turns out that she's got pretty much the same problem with the county: for some number of years, we were all regularly dragged off to make with the polite visiting and Earl Grey with my grandmother (father's side). That rather soured the place for me (and mater, it turns out. Make of that what you will), so I'd decided I was going to drive slowly down the length of the county and reclaim it conceptually.
I'm glad I did. It's dead good there. I may bang on about the fifties a lot, but I was near-convinced I'd found a gateway when I passed a red phonebox and a split-screen moggie within seconds of each other.
The last couple of days have utterly rocked. It's been very odd to discover that everyone else's reality seems to have changed very little. It feels like I've pissed off to Jupiter and back and the time-dilation's worked the other way up. Things ought to be different. Why aren't they?
I thought we were further into Shropshire, rather than just over the border from Worcestershire. Y'see the thing is, me and Worcestershire have a bit of a problem with each other. If there was ever a county that I was going to square up to and go "D'yer fookin' want some? 'Cos you can fookin' 'ave it, pal" Worcester would be the one with the girlfriend going "Leave 'im, it's not worth it."
Anyway, I came back via Tenbury Wells, Bromyard and Ledbury (And on the way up made a point of stopping in Leominster town centre, just because I could.), and dropped in on mummy to scrounge a mug of coffee and say hello. It turns out that she's got pretty much the same problem with the county: for some number of years, we were all regularly dragged off to make with the polite visiting and Earl Grey with my grandmother (father's side). That rather soured the place for me (and mater, it turns out. Make of that what you will), so I'd decided I was going to drive slowly down the length of the county and reclaim it conceptually.
I'm glad I did. It's dead good there. I may bang on about the fifties a lot, but I was near-convinced I'd found a gateway when I passed a red phonebox and a split-screen moggie within seconds of each other.
The last couple of days have utterly rocked. It's been very odd to discover that everyone else's reality seems to have changed very little. It feels like I've pissed off to Jupiter and back and the time-dilation's worked the other way up. Things ought to be different. Why aren't they?
