I returned to Warrington for the benefit of creating this blog. Internet access as well as access to the photos on my computer. My house no longer feeling like a home. Changed in shape and size since I last lived here. An extension. Dust everywhere, plaster crumbling from the walls, tiles broken, carpets torn up. No stuff, where did all the stuff go? Kitchen resembling more of a builders playground. Planks, packages of tiles, plastering tools. Even though the building work is finished. Half a bottle of red. Half a tastey if not slightly dusty bottle of red. Mmmm. Tea cooking (dusty stove. Edible?) Impatient, balancing on a wooden plank, (reminding me of playing in the scaffolding yards as a child whilst my dad worked. That was dusty too and surprisingly fun!) There are no memories here anymore. Even he scent of home has been replaced with the scent of fresh plaster. There isn't much reason for me to return here, though I undoubtebly will. It is still a home. Maybe when the decorting is finished it'll feel different, still it won't feel like mine. I need to start again.
There will always be the memory though. Things drawing me back. Sights, sounds, smells. Still a hme I guess. Warrington may not be the nicest place in the world but it has it's moments. Some character. Sometimes ridiculous, but character all the same. Of the many landmarks embedded in my mind (even above The Lewis Carrol memorial, The old Fish market, Golden gates, Daresbury Laboratory (tachnically that belongs to daresbury but you can see it standing tall on the hoizon sometimes), ICI plant, Fiddlers Ferry, Lever Bros factory (which all occasionally dominate the landscape), Walton Gardens, Bewsy Old Hall, Gullivers World and all the scum bags liotering in the streets) these two have to be my favourite:
The wierd green things in the centre of town. I don't know what these are or why they are here. But they are here and we just accept it. Sums up Warrington really, pointless, ugly, but there all the same, full of character.
The pink eye. I am a little more wise on this one. I know the story. This building, although not very tall in relation to say the hilton tower, is a dominant feature on my journey into town. The story quite simply is that the guy who cruely did this wanted origionally to paint a sea mural couldn't get the permission (How that would fit any better and why this did get permission I'll never know!) To display his anguish and pain through not being allowed to paint the sea on this ugly building, he pubished us all with the pink eye. Again a fitting metaphor for Warrington and how I feel about the place. Again adding to the character of warrington, wanting to become this nice place, regenerating, building, never quite getting it right, character. It always makes me laugh though. It is pretty funny after all!
Warrington is a little bit like having an older brother doing time for brutal murder. You can't stand the sight of him, want nothing to do with him, but you are still drawn to him. There is still that link, memories, time, blood and you kind of miss him.
Yes that's right brutal murder!