Friday Farewells

And so farewell, Derby. You were my home for over two years - a town (okay, technically city) I'd never had anything to do with before, but which came to feel a lot like home.

So goodbye to 'the most central city in England' (which means nothing, you still get seagulls). Goodbye to the crazy half a ring road, goodbye to the all-too-frequent merging dual carriageways that caused havoc in rush hour, goodbye to the inconsistent cycle lanes liable to dump you at the wrong end of a one-way street. Goodbye to rows and rows of terraced red-brick houses - not that Derby is alone in having those, but it certainly has a lot. Goodbye to the badly-placed railway station which was being refurbished for the whole time I was there, goodbye to the bus station that was knocked down a year ago (anyone remember that news item about a protestor living in a caravan on a bus station roof? That was Derby) and will probably never be replaced.

Goodbye to the roads, the roads by which Derby navigates. Goodbye to Pride Park, the Wyvern, Traffic Street, London Road, Osmaston Road, Ashbourne Road, Pentagon island, Markeaton island, Palm Court island (I never even worked out which roundabout that one was), Kingsway, Spider island, Raynesway, the Cock Pitt and the Blue Peter.

Goodbye to the suburbs and villages with funny names, to Spondon, Chaddesden, Five Lamps, Chester Green, Quarndon, Borrowash, Chellaston, Swarkestone, Markeaton, Long Eaton, Little Eaton, Mackworth, Littleover, Allestree, Alvaston, Crewton, Normanton and even Sunnydale (although I never got round to finding it). Oh, and I never mentioned I've been living in New Zealand for the last two years, did I?

Goodbye to the Peak District, so handily close. Okay, I always drove for at least an hour to get up to the proper hills in the Dark Peak, but nonetheless it was great to know the hills and valleys and open wild landscape were all there if I needed them. Goodbye in particular to Edale and Kinder Scout, where I found something approaching the grandeur, beauty and sheer wildness of the Lake District or the Scottish Highlands. I'll be back, though - even from Northampton I believe the Peaks are still my closest hills.

Goodbye to the town centre, the shops and bars and pubs and restaurants we always ended up in. From Tonic and Limes with their delusions of grandeur and fashion, through Fat Cats with old books on the wall, the Brunswick (a real ale pub near the station; can you guess at the clientele?) and the Standing Order (a Wetherspoons housed in an old bank), to the old end-of night standbys of Varsity, Walkabout or the Scream pub. Plus, of course, the special little places - Sadlers with its 'mushroom lounge' as we called it (those bobbin seats), or the Dolphin pub dating back to Tudor times, with low beams to match. To the curry houses on Midland Road and the pricey little bistros of Friargate. To the new Westfield shopping centre that disrupted my daily life with roadworks and construction for 2 years, but finally enlivened it with yummy milkshakes and a gadget shop for the last two months.

Goodbye to Markeaton Park, scene of so many Sunday strolls, and to the paths and fields and villages beyond. To the river Derwent, which I never did manage to walk along beside, and to the bits of old canals and mill races lurking beside old mills in back streets. To the strange little back streets themselves, which you only found when cycling or walking around the city. In particular to that odd little route to Morrisons which led through an old factory site across a ford on a private road. That was strange.

Goodbye to the Playhouse, where I saw a couple of good plays and which has recently run out of money, and to the Assembly Rooms where I once saw some snooker.

Goodbye to Bombardier and Derby Carriage Works as was, with its huge long red-brick workshops, its portacabins, its running lines and traversers and forklifts and old carriages and bogies stood rusting in sidings. To its evil speed bumps, which I am not sorry to leave behind in the slightest, and to bacon cobs on Friday mornings from the canteen, which I am.

But most of all, farewell to the people. Goodbye to my own original graduate year, reduced as we now are, because we were a good group despite the odd range of people we had. To the people I worked with at Crewe and Central Rivers, not forgotten over the time since I last saw them (well, especially not the three from Central Rivers I am now working with here...), because I've never disliked a workplace group (of engineers) so far - they've all been great. To the RAM/LCC lot in Derby, for daily amusement through both insanity and stupidity, and for being generally great and friendly. To the others around - from the bunch of other 20-somethings-or-maybe-30-but-we-won't-talk-about-its I went out on Thursday nights with, good fun and pleasant company, to the fleet and system engineers who despite grey hair and revered wisdom could still come out with the best lines. "Crewe? A very good place for sick engines. It says so in Thomas The Tank Engine." And not forgetting the lunchtime canteen bunch - our conversations never failed to descend into the totally bizarre, usually with a good helping of smut and innuendo on the side. "Is that a chicken in your oven, or are you just pleased to see me?"

Sigh. Bye bye Derby. It was good knowing you.