Stowmarket is a town full of contrasts. On my walk this evening I have smelt the stale cooking fat emanating from the local Wetherspoons. I’ve seen chavs racing their cars around, one nearly hitting me. Over the park there is the usual detritus of the couldn’t give a fuck club. Beer cans dropped amongst the piles of stinking butt ends and crisp packets. Of course it wouldn’t be the plague without the numerous discarded masks and latex gloves littering the dry brown grass.
But then I end my walk in the cemetery. The rumble of the trucks on the A14 is drowned out by the cooing pigeons and chirping blackbirds that inhabit this piece of solitude in this busy town. I love sitting here amongst the gravestones. There’s nothing to fear here whatsoever and it’s a wonderful place to write this blog.
There is no message or lesson here unless it’s not to take anything for granted. I bet where you live there are quiet places hidden away amongst the modern buildings and roads. Get out there and have a look!
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