The second time I took him, I went to Telford shopping centre to find amusement, which is 7 minutes away. There is indeed enough to amuse me there (at the very least, a Zara, two Costas and a Waterstones) but I don’t like Telford. I go there with a heavy heart and a cross brow. So my weird thought is: why don’t I like Telford? Plenty of people do like Telford. People even live there. Why does the thought of going to Telford make me feel cross? Why do I profess to hate it so much? What has Telford ever done to me?
There are a number of reasons for my antipathy towards Telford:
I hope I haven’t upset anyone who lives in Telford with my disparaging words. I’d be happy to engage in some lively debate with a Telfordian and be convinced that Telford is actually a nice place. Please do feel free to try if that is you. It has an ice rink, after all. So it isn’t all bad. I think the main reason I don’t like it is because it isn’t very old and I live in Shrewsbury which is very old (we have a lane called ‘grope lane’ where the ladies of the night used to hang out in medieval times – and a very interesting history is attached to such streets).
I keep thinking I need to learn to love Telford and perhaps I should start an art project about the town so I can grow to love something about it. I suspect that there is something about it that part of me loves (like when you fancy someone and you are mean to them). I have a love-hate relationship with Telford. It just seems such a sad place where the only leisure pursuit is to shop in the search for happiness or a meaning to life. Shopping is just not the path to happiness though, or is it?