Unofficial Motto: Brutus Quod Gallus.
I'll leave it for you to translate.
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| HOMETOWN HERO | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| By Matthew Craig | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| On the Subject of Religion! | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| I couldn't eat a whole one. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| You had to be there. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| My old secondary school was in a small part of town called Wellington. I went to a Catholic school, but unfortunately I have no amusing stories about dodgy priests or repressed sexuality. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| About the worst thing I can say is that we didn't get sex education until the upper sixth (17/18). I put a condom on inside out. And despite being the only virgin in the room (more or less), I was the only boy to know where the clitoris was. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Girls, take note: Biologists make the best lovers. | Wellington's Crest is as dull as can be. Unofficial Motto: Brutus Quod Gallus. I'll leave it for you to translate. |
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| Going back with the Daddy the other day, I was reminded of so many things. The place where I nearly got into a fight over acne; the place where a riot nearly broke out over bending at the knee; the place where I became a thieves handbag (an Accessory to Shoplifting); the place where I had my first Cheap Belgian Beer; and so on. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| So many memories. The place is as boring today as it was eight years ago (the last time I was there), but when all you can remember is the odd stuff, somehow it doesn't seem so dull. Like the time my weight-training chums decided to lift a car. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Wellington Town Councillors held for fifteenth successive year. Amnesty International banned from visiting Council Chambers | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| I can't remember why we were in the car park, but one of the lads decided it would be a great idea to pick up a Volkswagen and rock it from side to side. So naturally the other lads joined in. Sensibly, I stood back and watched, with an almost preternatural awareness of what was going to happen next. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Sure enough, as soon as the boys had the car one inch off the ground, the owners came up the stairs from the nearby train station. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| I was like a black and copper blur. Like a Duracell Battery in a blender. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Seriously. All I heard was "OOIIiiiiiii..." tailing off into the distance as I put as much of the same between me and the car park as I could. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Some might call it cowardice. Some might call it chicken-livered. Me, I called it "FUCKING HEEELLLLLLLLLL! ZOOOM!" | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| At some point, Damien Watts almost caught up with me. He was the school 100m sprint champion. A real whippet. And to be fair to me, I was fat. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Some three-quarters of an hour later, with my heart thudding like a honeymooners headboard, the lads finally found me. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| For days afterwards, they were impressed with my velocitous self-extraction. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Never underestimate the speed of a coward. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The old place hasn't changed that much. A few shops here and there have gone, a giant sundial or two has sprung up, but it's the same old town it was on New Years Eve 1993. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| It was the only time I'd ever been out on New Years Eve. It was my last night out with some of the people I'd been to school with. People I still miss, sometimes. The night where a sixth former I'd unsuccessfully pursued a year or so before came up to me and thanked me for a piece I wrote on Ecology that was being used as a teaching aid that year (no shag there, unfortunately). The last night I saw some of the people I'd grown up with. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| It's sad, how one has to move on. It's sad how one can never truly go back. These faces, these people I see in my head, that I still remember seeing for the first time at age five, or six, or eleven, or sixteen, that I might never see again. People I used to play with, fight with, laugh with, and cry with. They don't know what I've been doing. They don't know where I am. I don't know where they are, or what they've been doing. With some exceptions, of course. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| For all that I went through at university (three times) and at work, to get where I am today (nowhere), even I haven't had as bad a time as some of my classmates. One of them...well, let's just say that she made CNN Worldwide. Which beats my appearance on Newsnight into a cocked hat, for all the wrong reasons. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Some of them fared worse than that. Some turned to drugs, some dropped out of school. Some got into trouble with the law. One even died. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| So many stories left untold. So many lives branching off in different directions. And all the coincidence in the world won't bring them back together. Not even for me. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| And I sit here alone in this room, with memories crowding out the words, and all I can do is weep. For despite the smallness and dullness of that pissant village, there aren't many places on this earth where I have felt more comfortable, where I have lived as much life, where I have grown as much, as Wellington, Shropshire. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Matthew Craig, 22nd August 2001. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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