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St. Pancras
My trip up the country commenced here.. As I rumbled up the tracks from London to Nottingham I was rocked into a delightful contented slumber. Snuggly in my seat, I was jostled awake by a woman and her unruly suitcase. Where were we? “Now arriving in Beeston”. Holy smokes that’s my stop and with that I hurriedly snagged my trusty silver traveling bag and disembarked the train.
There waiting for me was Davey. Someone, I met in a hostel one random morning in Sydney eighteen years ago. Over the years we had hung out in North America, South America, and Asia. However, it had been ten years since I had last seen him. But the thing about true friendships is that no matter how long it has been you simply pick right back up as if no time had passed at all.
After stopping off at his house and meeting his wife and daughter we went for a walk around his neighborhood. He lived in Beeston on the outskirts of Nottingham. The whole area brimmed with an English charm and the air had that comforting dampness that I remembered so fondly. Within walking distance was a picturesque system of canals and lochs. Along the way, Davey
pointed out where a 12-year-old had drowned in a weir recently. Tragedy still manages to strike in even the most tranquil of settings.
Later that night we went for a pub crawl throughout Beeston. There were an impressive number of quality pubs. Some modern and trendy and some were the old-fashioned quality English pubs of yesteryear. We finally settled down at the Old Vic for some truly phenomenal pub grub. I had a hearty serving of cottage pie. After dinner we retired to the backroom where all the regulars were milling about, playing darts and jovially getting sloshed. Brexit seemed to be on everyone’s mind. Davey knew a number of the regulars. I got to talking to one and mentioned to him that I was a “Tony Yeboah Leeds United Supporter”. Dating my support for the famed Yorkshire football club back to 1995. With a great night of local English flavor under my belt we went home and crashed at his house. We would be heading up to Davey’s hometown of Bradford in the morning.
After a night that alternated between restlessness and extreme deep sleep, I awoke at 10am and headed downstairs to a scene of a
couple of toddlers running about. Davey had prepared me an absolutely delicious breakfast of bacon, sausage, and beans. This was the perfect thing after a night out on the lash. After picking up some drinks and salt and vinegar crisps, we were driving our way up the M1 to Bradford. There was quite a bit of traffic and as it crept along we listened to some sports radio, which included a discussion of how Leeds was positioning itself for promotion. Unfortunately, Leeds had recently been caught spying on a rival team in order to gain a competitive advantage. Not to worry though, it just showed me that Leeds would stop at nothing this year to return to the Premier League.
We dropped our bags off at Davey’s mum’s place where we would be spending the night. It was great to finally meet her and get to chat over a cup of tea. After that it was time to drive into Bradford city proper. My initial impressions were of a city decaying a bit around the edges. Mill work wasn’t quite what it had been. A lot of immigrants had come flooding in to work over the years. You could
Hindu Temple
This temple right around the corner from Davey's House helped remind me that I would be in India soon. definitely witness a strong Pakistani presence in the streets. Bradford has a talent drain problem where the best and the most gifted move out and to not return. Also, the race riots of 2001 did nothing to enhance Bradford’s already crumbling reputation.
Before dinner we stopped off to see an old friend who was going through a rough patch. Even though our visit was short it was very rewarding to see him again after all these years. Dinner was something I was truly looking forward to. Not only was I going to have a famous Bradford curry that I had heard so many good things about, but I was also going to meet the legendary Vic. Vic was a friend of Davey’s that kept popping up in many of his craziest stories.
Dinner was as good as advertised filled with Cobra beers and a delicious Nawabi lamb dish. The conversation was fun and fast paced. And even though we had just met it felt like I had known Vic for years. Being so near Leeds I began to consider the idea of returning in the Fall to see a Leeds United match. Hopefully by then it might even be a Premiership match. Outside in the parking lot I was hit by a bone chilling Yorkshire wind. Life in this part of the country was not an easy one, especially in the winter.
We finished the night watching the Eurovision song contest with Davey’s mum. The show was eliminating contestants in order to see which singer would represent the UK in the big Europewide competition. I was so full from the ever-expanding naan in my stomach that I barely touched the McEwan’s Lager and Maltesers that I had bought for myself. I crawled into bed that night very satisfied with how the trip was going so far.
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Amara Cyrus
non-member comment
Awesome Place
Love to be there. Thanks for sharing!