The Unbearable Shiteness of Being (in Luton)
Confessional writing is everywhere nowadays. Reveal a big secret, something terrible that has happened to you, and people love it. I want a bit of this confessional action. Here goes.
I lived in Luton. Phew. I feel better already. It was only for a few weeks back in April, soon after I'd arrived in England. I felt I should visit a mate I'd not seen since he was in Australia a few years back.
“Where is Luton?” asks the happy, well-adjusted reader who has never lived there. Drive north from London until your surroundings completely lose any charm or character, until concrete overpasses and grey council tower blocks dominate the landscape. Hey, you're in Luton! Home of easyJet and ... well, not much else.
During the entire time I was there I suffered some sort of low-level depression brought on by my surroundings. A typical day in Luton could involve the following schedule: walk around a football pitch fifty times, spend half an hour trying to cross the road, then finish your day by watching groups of teenagers spit at pigeons outside Safeway.
I've devised this chart to help you grasp the shiteness of Luton.
posted by Tim Stevens | 12/19/2004 03:12:00 PM |