Changing Times

I never really liked my home town, Wellingborough, in Northamptonshire. Yes, it was home for a good 21 years of my life and yes, I learned a lot about life there, but, no, it is not a particularly likeable place. Basically, it's in the middle of nowhere and is pretty much famous for nothing, except for being the home of Whitworth's, the flour company and for being near to where all the Weetabix in the world is produced. And that's about it.

I left there back in 1975 to go to Leeds University to study drinking and loud music. I didn't return except to visit my parents.

The centre of the town hasn't really changed much physically in the last 40 years - the traffic system is still chaotic, the Hind Hotel still lords it over everything in the middle and the shopping centre is still a pretty dire place.

And now, since my parents died 4 years ago, I don't return at all, except when Euston station shuts down at the weekend for engineering works and I have to use Wellingborough station and several complicated bus routes to get to Northampton see the Cobblers play.

I did this yesterday. It was a strange experience. Walking up into town from the station, I did not hear a single English voice. I recognised, Polish, Russian and even Chinese. And I was served by a Romanian (I asked) when I had a coffee at Costa in the centre of town. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think this is a bad thing. Far from it.

I remember my mother saying that the influx of non-English nationals into the town, beginning in the 80s, had been the saving of the town. Before then, the area had been dying slowly. Young people were moving to the bigger towns and cities leaving behind an ageing population, a town centre devoid of any retailers, except for charity outlets, betting shops and pawnbrokers.

Then the Latvians, Lithuanians and Poles came and it all changed. Shops re-opened, small supermarkets on street corners appeared and suddenly life was being breathed into the place again.

As I walked through the town centre yesterday I could not help smiling, as I noticed a balloon seller surrounded by children and a coffee shop called Bewitched.

Perhaps I judged the place too harshly in the past. Times move on. Things change. So, never mind the physical appearance of the town. That doesn't really matter, does it? It's the people that matter. And Wellingborough in 2018 has become a thriving melting pot of different cultures from all over the world - and that can only be a good thing.