A Tale of Two Cities

Journey home. From the bustling, hustling, regenerating (even if flat broke) modern city of Birmingham, via the historic, Tudor, heritage-scarred destination of Stratford-uopn-Avon, close by the Forest of Arden, (yes, Stratford is a town, not a city, but don't let that ruin a corny title). But which is which, the main or the extra? Well, the opposite of the obvious, or why would I bother?

I grew up in rural seclusion - 2km from the nearest village, 12km from a town, 25km from a city (even now, I'm astonished it was only 25km - it felt like it would be another planet). I didn't see a city until I was 10 years old. I internalised the idea that cities were harsh, dirty, hostile, loud, dangerous - places where I would be threatened, alienated and unhappy. That kind of early conditioning is hard to shake; a little shudder grips me whenever someone says 'city-break' 

My head knows that most cities (in UK, anyway) are collections of villages that have joined at the edges, but these districts guard their independence and cherish their cultural identity. People who live in cities know where the quiet areas of retreat are, where to access life on human scale, where to find clean air, birdsong and green leaves. They fight to preserve these things. My own, personal, anecdotal experience is that people in cities are warm, neighbourly, considerate, open, welcoming. My head knows this; my emotions withold their trust, anticipating betrayal

The tree-lined boulevard is in Bourneville, south Birmingham. Not part of the idealised, 'model' village created by the Cadbury dynasty at the turn of the 20th century - a later development just pre-WWII - but still part of the wider Cadbury estate, and subject to the no-pubs, no-bonfires rules and other prejudices of the family. Large, widely-spaced houses with large gardens, many trees and an ambience of quiet calm

The anonymous, could-be-anywhere modern development is within easy walking distance of the Stratford theatres, the Tudor architecture of the old town and the Shakespeare-industry experiences. I don't disparage this, or the people who live there, any more than I idealise life in the lush greea of Bourneville. Really I'm just rubbing my own face in the evidence that most city streets are not mean, and country market towns are not a synonym for idiosyncracy and charm