Bury on a Friday night

So unfortunately the new development is predicted to wipe the old town clean of life, with all its spangly new shops over there stealing the old town centre's historical glory. My brief observations rather suggest that the predicted situation is largely already the case. The weekly Wednesday and Saturday markets will surely continue to draw in the regular market shoppers (at least until they decide the multi-national supermarkets will provide better deals), though at other times of the week I fear the density of the crowds nevertheless leaves a little something to be desired (where the majority of the shoppers consists of the retired).

One might expect the height of the town's sociality to blossom in the weekend evenings when, if a night life were to exist at all, everyone knocks off work for a night on the town. Apparently not so. Restaurants may get booked up but it seems people avoid the streets as far as possible, only to get jammed up with the youth of Bury being drunk and disorderly, perhaps warranting a telling off by the police (as I witnessed last Friday). Dim lighting and cobbled streets just don't make for crime-free vibes.

But I just don't feel like a local in my own town anymore. I spy sixth formers, professionals, and those that grew up in the area and never left. The time I spent the most time drinking in Bury St Edmunds was when I was underage (and arguably looked it), always sticking to the one pub, always fearful of getting carded. When I go out in Bury St Edmunds now, it's like I'm reverting to this former role. Either that or just playing the role of an outsider trying to fit in. I'm not a stranger. I'm not a local. It intimidates me somewhat.

Regardless, it was nice to catch up with old school friends (all of which have left our small market town indefinitely) back for the Mothers' Day weekend.