That Old Home Town Feeling

I wonder if there is an age at which we finally let go of our childhood? Is there a particular moment in life when a person relinquishes the dreams of their youth and accepts that they were unrealistic and learns to get on with what they really are?

I guess if you had a troubled time as a child it comes a lot sooner than those who had a more comfortable start in life.

I pondered this as I did a quick circuit, last Saturday, of the town where I grew up. I haven't lived here for the best part of 20 years, but walking around Fareham on a wet Saturday afternoon I relived a lot of memories. It was only to be expected I suppose.

looking up the hill

I walked up the High Street, a wide street populated with buildings of a wide heritage from Elizabethan right up to the present day. At the top of the High Street is the Golden Lion. It was one of the haunts within which I learnt to appreciate beer in fine detail. The Landlord was very particular in many aspects, mostly pertaining to his beer and clientele. To be accepted  as a customer was something of a badge of honour. To top it the HSB was the best you could get. I passed it by tonight as I have forsaken the way of the hop for a cleaner life, but I was heartened to see the place with custom, even if it was only 6 pm.

2 pints of HSB please!

I descended the gentle slope of the street toward West Street. The High Street was as wide as it is because it used to hold the weekly market. The market is still around every Monday but is a very different beast today. In fact it has no beasts, but it used to. I remember going to see the sheep and cattle being auctioned off. Years later Mum told me that she sometimes had to exit pretty smartish because a man was moving along the chickens ringing their necks!

Lardy Cake - Yum!

I turned into West Street and headed toward the rail station at the far end. I cast a glance wistfully back to Soothills the local bakery and sugary comestible emporium. I can heartily recommend the Lardy cake. Oh yes.

Mamon

On my left I passed what is now a large hair salon but was originally a toy shop called Keasts. As a small boy it was shangri-la. Many independent traders closed after the advent of the indoor shopping mall further up the road. When it opened it came with a Sainsbury's and the butcher's shops along this stretch also disappeared. I can still smell the wood shavings. It wasn't the first Supermarket in town but it was the largest the area had seen.

As I passed by the pub that was "THE" place to be as a student I noticed that although some of the business's had changed there was life in the old street yet. Back in the Seventies and most of the Eighties there were only two restaurants that weren't also a Chinese or Indian takeaway. There was a Greek Restaurant called Angelis and a french restaurant called Chives. Pub food didn't take off until the late Seventies and didn't truly arrive in Fareham until the Eighties.

However West Street is now home to a number of establishments (mostly chains but hey ho) that offer fine dining as the term used to be known. So not all change is for the worse.

All day Drinking?

I cast a rueful eye over The Crown. It was for many years a very unremarkable establishment but is now owned by Wutherspoons or some such. The point of interest though was that it was rumoured to have a license to open at 5 a.m. on Mondays to service the market traders. I was never able to get out of bed to ever test this rumour.

Embassy cinema

I continued until just before the ubiquitous McDonalds. The local town planners should hold their heads in shame in allowing a beautiful example of an 1930's cinema to be pulled down for a ruddy burger bar! I turned up the slope toward Osbourne Road and in a roundabout way I was turning for home. I passed the dental practice that has so scarred my opinion of dentistry and then admired the new block of retirement flats that have a nice view of the telephone exchange on one side and a funeral directors  on the other. Planning?

I marched on into the night. As I progressed towards home and a roast pork dinner I alighted on my infant school which is now an art centre. I paused for a brief moment to stare at the window of the head teachers office. Where I gained a valuable lesson in learning that the prize isn't always worth the wait. It was inoculation day. The word on the playground was that once a nurse had punctured your arm with a needle the size of your leg (you know how kids brag) you got a sugar cube to suck on.

Fareham County Infants

My turn came and I marched into the torture chamber. The stranger (nurse/executioner) was readying a needle and the head (who felt every needle that was thrown at her charges) held me by the shoulders. I was instructed to hyperventilate and it wouldn't hurt. It bloody did hurt. And after that the promised sugar cube was daubed in some bitter yellow stuff and I felt very discombobulated.

I passed by the by the new Sainsbury's and was soon shuffling my feet on my Mum's welcome  mat. And lo! the dinner was good.

But what had just happened? I had spent half an hour with a whole bunch of ghosts. I felt a little uncomfortable in their presence. It is complicated. I have done this before. When I first left home I brought my new family back to town and sat in the car eating fish and chips from the chippy I used to frequent as a student. I had an uncomfortable feeling of disappointment. I could still remember those days clearly. I was a dreamer I admit. I was full of sh*t but I had pretensions and wishes as to how I wanted my life to progress and the stage I was at was not in there. This was not what I was meant to be. Reality took a big bite out of my ego.

So there was that part of me that feels failure, not to put too fine a point on it. But my childhood was happy. We were not wealthy but I wanted for nothing. My Ma and Pa provided on every level. I had access to good schooling. For whatever contrary reason I was unable or unwilling to avail myself of it properly. My brother and sister did so I had positive role models on that front. I hated school though.

It was bittersweet. but I had a resolve to let the past go and get on with my future. Bit late at 46 but there you go.

It was just a fleeting feeling. One week back at work and I just feel glad to have got to Friday without throttling anyone arrogant enough not to appreciate my efforts.