tempus fugit

By ceridwen

West Street

There's no doubt I am back out west. Here in downtown Fishguard, where the chimneys sprout aerials and bushes, someone has had a stab at brightening up their house with green paint, and Linda, whoever she is, is trying to make a living marketing "winda's" (I've never seen anybody in the shop). The Belisha beacon marks a zebra crossing that is barely needed any longer.

The economic depression of this small town, like so many others on the edge of the Europe, is always very striking when I return from the comparative prosperity of English cities. The numerous small businesses and trades that once kept the town ticking over have long bitten the dust and Fishguard is not pretty or quaint enough to benefit from well-heeled incomers or indeed many tourists.

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