Having moved
I thought it was time that I tackled the view from my flat. It adds layers to the city. The flat itself is on the top of a hill and the back faces southwest in to the hills. In the far distance there is a ski slope that is lit up at night. The weather of each day affects the view: some days (like today) you can see the hills as they dress the sky line and on others all that remains to be seen is the bare trees at the foot of the window across the garden. It is a different kind of view from that which I became used too. Glasgow offered the reflection of your flat within the windows of others. Leeds was much the same – quite on show that you were. This view reminds me of the hills of home, North East Derbyshire encroaching on the seven peaks of Sheffield and the Peak District itself. You could see the water tower next to my uncle’s house in Norton, south Sheffield from the landing window.
Perhaps this is it. Landmarks are a given in this place.
The other evening my friend needed the toilet so we entered in to the foyer of an arts centre around 6.30 pm for him to find suitable facilities. Before long we were asked by a young woman, who’s accent disguised her past, if we wanted a Peroni. We of course said yes and then three Peroni’s later we had learned she worked for a bank and was posted all over the UK to help promote one of its clients (you can guess which one). The promotion this times was in the guise of a photography exhibition, rare prints taken from Italian or Italian inspired films, in which Italian costume designers played a huge part. One particular print took my fancy. It depicted a 70s bar with one woman wearing a 70s style dress and three men with moustaches and matching suits. We decided to get to know the Peroni girl a little better – another bottle later we learned that she was from North East Derbyshire (Clown in Chesterfield to be exact), the town next to the one where I grew up. First off though she said she was from Sheffield too as I had said that is where I was from (well I was born there, in Jessops hospital, the hospital where my Grandmother on my father’s side had worked as a nurse). We were then a lot more exacting and confessed at having grown up just south of the Yorkshire border instead. I could see Sheffield and the water tower from my house on the hill though so I was sort of half lying.
She did not sound as though she was from just north of the midlands. And neither do I except when talking to Scottish people, as I want to accentuate my roots during my time living here. The landscape is the same but the accent is different I think.
