Spalding is a medium sized market town in South Lincolnshire. That’s all I can positively say about it. For some unknown reason my parents (after leaving the RAF) decided this was to be the place to bring 4 children up, having the choice of the whole of the UK – no – the World.
I was determined from the prescient age of 11 to leave this god-forsaken and narrow minded town as soon as I could. Education here is a bonus. Bizarrely, I was in the minority of kids my age – determined to get my homework done and get good grades so i wouldn’t have to stay a moment longer once I took my exams.
Spalding has all you would expect from a **** town: the town car park where bored teenagers tottering on heels and in low cut tops congregate in the dead of winter, only warming themselves by rutting up against the Post Office wall (or perhaps more conveniently – the nearest car bonnet); the nightclub – endearingly entitled “The Granary” – where the end of the night is marked by “The Ten to Two” – the last gasp chance of a quickie with someone who’ll “do”; just in time to get back in before closing time for one last vodka shot. The town is further enhanced by the accents that dominate the area (and reach their peak in the nearby Boston) – everything has to end in “mate” and “duck”… I practiced my vowels every night like a good girl.
So, if you’re tempted by the annual “Tulip Parade” which brings in hordes of pensioners from UK, but is actually a good excuse for an all day “piss up” and small minded berating of “strangers with funny accents”, please remember to leave your IQ, trust of others and sunny disposition at home – if you don’t – you simply won’t fit in.
I won’t say anything about the usual dress sense – New Look and JJB have a few shops here – and I’m always surprised that the lure of a MacDonalds hasn’t yet closed down the town’s Wimpy Bar – with their faded pictures of burgers and shakes promising years of bad skin and muffin tops to the choosy customers.
The town council’s planning department have done a wonderful job in turning it into a hemogenous and low maintenance “any town” – they need all their resources in the Benefits department – after all – as the town’s young ladies opted for ” ‘avin a young ‘un” as part of their GCSE choices – a fantastic opportunity to take a waterside apartment and get all the latest apparel for self and home from Argos.
Boston, Lincs, every bad thing done to excess
Holbeach, the land of the living dead
Bourne: a backwater Lincolnshire market town
Spaldinski, East of Krakow
Fleet: a miserable cabbage plantation of mud and depression in Lincs
Boston, Lincolnshire, the land of pregnant 14 year olds
Bourne aka Deliverance
Boston: I am not a duck!
Peterborough – there is no culture