Miserable Lancaster Pictorial
I have still been nowhere and done nothing. The rain it falls, the money it disappears, the weekends vanish in a miserable mist of buying enormous economy packs of toilet rolls in Home Bargains which bounce joyously against sodden knees on the long trek home. An attempt to liven up these limited horizons by going for a pub lunch ends up in apologising to other patrons and then going home covered in lime and soda and clutching the toddler slightly too hard by his wrist and whispering angrily into his unreceptive ears. My partner talks about how he could have made the same slightly disappointing vegetarian option at home for 20p.
Lancaster is in a permanent state of transition. Sadly the transition has recently been from great shop with nice dresses and earrings shaped like spectacles to Cash Generators and Iceland.
The mills have been knocked down to make room for Barrat homes whilst pleasant and cheap stone terraces for well under a hundred grand have eternal ‘For Sale’ signs outside them.
Those who choose a Barrat home over a 19th century terrace deserve be smothered under fuscia painted MDF.
Art and beauty still exists in Lancaster and I love this small city very much. However for the purpose of this photo blog, I have chosen to dwell in a slight sense of mundanity and inertia.
Because it is late June and raining heavily.