Aberystwyth is quite simply the most depressing place it has ever been my misfortune to live in. I am told that the sun shines for ten days every year, in August, which coincides with the University recess, so I never did get to see it. The rest of the year it is wind swept, desolate, and semi aquatic. The only shops the survive are those selling cheap tat to the university students. The only restaurants which survive are those selling far-from-cheap, tasteless, mechanically reclaimed meat and gristle to the students. The only accommodation available is cheerless, wind swept – yeah, even indoors! – and depressing. As for the full time inhabitants, lets not even go there. The train out of Aberystwyth, when it runs, is its only redeeming feature.  

It comes as no surprise to me that someone should have tried to commit suicide frequently whilst living in the town, by variously wading out to sea or leaping off piers, jetties, rocks and cliffs.

What is a surprise is that as a result of these attempts, Magistrates in Aberystwyth issued an Asbo to Amy which banned her from going in the sea, onto beaches or onto the promenade in the town. Allegedly on economic grounds – she had cost emergency services nearly £1m after they had rescued her 50 times. It would have been cheaper to finance her move out of Aberystwyth.

She now lives in Hove, Sussex, and is ‘recovered’. I understand completely Amy, I now live in France and I’m feeling a lot better too…….just the occasional flash-back.

Hat tip to (Una) Musings.

Coco February 25, 2009 at 01:26

janes said!!! …….’I shall have a fag, talk to animals and cough. I

Coco February 25, 2009 at 01:18

Hi Kitten Yourself!!! I have been working for NASA this week …………
undercover ……… Bloody Aliens as usual. Will tell you all about it this week.

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 22:53

Coco! Kitten! Hurrah!

Coco February 24, 2009 at 22:33

If you want grim and bleak …………… go to Staithes near Whitby! What a
miserable and dank hole that is! Talk about gloom and doom.

No wonder Captain Cook buggered off and sailed all over the World.

Oh! ……… And don’t wear sling-back peep-toe sandals with heels to walk down
the hill! Your toe-nails will be worn out before you get to the bottom of the
hill.

janes February 24, 2009 at 09:47

Spit. Where’s my coffee?

Anna Raccoon
February 24, 2009 at 11:17

Mine arrived on time!

janes February 24, 2009 at 00:04

Morning Spit. Make mine strong.

Anna Raccoon
February 24, 2009 at 00:06

And a pain au raison too if you wouldn’t mind………

janes February 24, 2009 at 00:02

I shall have a fag, talk to animals and cough. I’m sure that will bring on
the zzzzzzzzzzs.

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 00:01

Again, goodnight and sleep ‘soundly’…

Gloria Smudd
February 24, 2009 at 00:00

Poor you! Old Smuddy’s trumpeting away (A minor) on the sofa as I type! I
know just what you mean!

Anna Raccoon
February 24, 2009 at 00:03

I’m off too, trouble is that Spit has learnt how to look at recent
comments in the morning and see exactly what time I stayed up ’til…….

(Morning Spit, stick the kettle on, there’s a love!)

janes February 24, 2009 at 00:00

If you are both going away I shall just stay here and sulk. I am used to
being abandoned. Goodnight.

janes February 23, 2009 at 23:58

I have no comb.

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 23:57

The comb and tissue-paper is an emergency substitue when only the wavering
tremelo will do. Any good?

janes February 23, 2009 at 23:57

Ha! Ha! Anna, very funny but much appreciated’

Anna Raccoon
February 23, 2009 at 23:58

Try Wagner

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 23:56

… I’m off now. Ciao janes. Ciao Anna. A domani.

janes February 23, 2009 at 23:56

But I have no kazoo, boo hoo.

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 23:55

In my mind the ‘now’ is no more, the metre pert and perfect. Fret not but
if you are having trouble sleeping, you could always try a little music …

janes February 23, 2009 at 23:52

That bloody ‘now’ is still there, ruining my metre and humiliating me. How
can I sleep?

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 23:50

Tank tops always look very nice with a (Ben) Sherman, I think. Loons
optional.

janes February 23, 2009 at 23:48

Ok Anna, I am indeed the most important god in the Roman archaic pantheon.
And the tank is still pointing the wrong way, but it’s beginning to grow on
me. I’m very fond of tank tops but sadly they look like scarves when I don
them.

Anna Raccoon
February 23, 2009 at 23:50

I shall go to bed and resist the temptation, I shall, I will……….

””””””””””””””””””””””””
”””””””””””””””””””””””’ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ” ‘ ”””’
””””” ”” and another one ”””’

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 23:46

At least I didn’t suggest it was a tank top. I nearly did. But I don’t know
what tank top is in Italian!

janes February 23, 2009 at 23:45

Funny you should mention apostrophes Anna …

janes February 23, 2009 at 23:44

And it’s still facing the wrong way. And the sub editor hasn’t yet removed
the ‘now’ from Corby crybaby ….. you just can’t get the staff.

Anna Raccoon
February 23, 2009 at 23:45

It’s facing the same way as that puny little challenger tank you sent me
this morning……

Anna Raccoon
February 23, 2009 at 23:47

I’ll turn you into the Sugar Plum Fairy if you’re not careful!

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 23:40

So did I!

Anna Raccoon
February 23, 2009 at 23:42

Actually its a Sherman tank Gloria, not a top tank. Having spent a large
part of the day searching out a tank facing the right way for Madame’s
exacting tastes, I am now an expert on these things…….

Anna Raccoon
February 23, 2009 at 23:44

Then she completely misses the Janus crack and just assumes its my bad
education…should have stuck a row of apostrophes in it, then she’d had
noticed it alright….doesn’t matter where I bury them, she digs ‘em up.

janes February 23, 2009 at 23:38

So did I!

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 23:34

Whatever, it’s a top tank.

Anna Raccoon
February 23, 2009 at 23:36

Had to look that one up Janus.

janes February 23, 2009 at 23:25

Watch it Procyon lotor.

janes February 23, 2009 at 21:22

Tank you Gloria – but read it again and take the ‘now’ away from
crybaby!

Anna Raccoon
February 23, 2009 at 23:09

Note the wire leading up from the tank Gloria……..I have Rommel under
control now!

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 20:20

janes! Smudd gasps in admiration. It’s wonderful. Thank you.

And I like your new tank.

Blink February 23, 2009 at 17:24

grim equals welwyn garden city. even the local council think they’re
important there. have a chat with the housing maintenance department sometime
– an experience to treasure.

Anna Raccoon
February 23, 2009 at 18:43

Went to school in Letchworth, in the days when it didn’t possess a pub –
and the highlight of our week was creeping into the local post office to buy
a tin of Spam, banned currency in the school then!

janes February 23, 2009 at 17:20

For you Gloria:

On holiday in Corby
I had a horrid time
I had to get there on a
bus
There is no railway line
I met my first young Corbyite
Saw
something was amiss
But as I tried to run away
I got a Corby Kiss.

I am a Corby crybaby ”’
My battered face is proof
And all because
that Corbyite
Had grown up quite uncouth
I breathe through just one
nostril
The whistling drives me mad
I

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 13:35

janes – you are my muse. I was so moved by your supportive post that I dug
out my ‘old faithful’ and set about crafting a tune. How the rafters rang as
the reedy strains of “Corby Crybaby” rent the fetid air! I think I have struck
just the right balance of smashed bone, bloody bogie and trodden-in kebab.
Once I’ve finished the lyrics, I think we could have a Eurovision winner on
our hands.

The world of music owes you an enormous debt.

Anna Raccoon
February 23, 2009 at 13:32

Oi, Rommel!

Happy now?

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 13:20

janes February 23, 2009 at 13:10

I didn’t know you were a Corby Crybaby – a less than exclusive club I
understand. The sibilant nostril would only be a major inconvenience if you
were on local radio where they tend not to have top quality mics that remove
problems like popping and sibilance

But don’t lose heart, you can aways use your kazoo for the karaoke – I
believe you are an expert.

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 01:04

janes, I mean Corby, as I live and breathe. And, I must add, ever since
that fateful night I have been able to breathe only through the one remaining
nostril that wasn’t blocked by microscopic shards of ‘nasal bridge’ . I
realise that not every tourist is lucky enough to get chosen to receive the
legendary ‘Corby Kiss’ but I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to my
whistling nostril and I do mind that I have had to give up competitive Karaoke
because I have never been able to carry a recogniseable note since.

janes February 23, 2009 at 00:10

You’ve gorrabe joking. Not Corby.

Gloria Smudd
February 23, 2009 at 00:03

I repeat – if you want grim, try CORBY (Northhants, so good they gayve it
two haytches)

janes February 22, 2009 at 23:54

I travelled over the Severn Bridge once, years ago, and ended up in
Newport. I have never driven so fast towards England again. Aberystwyth can
not be as dire as Newport, surely the most depressing, soulless, bleak outpost
anywhere.

Gloria Smudd
February 22, 2009 at 23:33

If you want grim, try Corby.

Dick the Prick
February 22, 2009 at 21:55

Todmordon is bad always (border between Yorkshire & Lancashire) but
Bridlington off season and Hull too. Is that Bridgend near Aberystwith
(phonetic!) ?

Heads up on OH thread Anna – been considering all weekend.

They used to put hospitals in the country and tell the local vicar &
pub landlord. These days take away & taxi rank. The priority in all things
has to be dignity. Obviously certain conditions & actions must be
restricted but pop the nutters on a campus and put up signposts – job
done.

I fostered a lad for 6 years and haven’t heard a dickie bird – cheers
social workers. I ain’t pushing but a bit of courtesey and logic wouldn’t go
astray….

Gloria Smudd
February 22, 2009 at 21:44

Very likely, Zak! ~ Lassoed (sp?) against her deep-sea-swimmer’s will and
winched repeatedly out of the poisonous foam and banned by the courts from
buying as much as a teaspoonful of goose fat! It’s a very credible hypothesis,
very credible. And enough to depress the sunniest of natures!

Gloria Smudd
February 22, 2009 at 21:40

(I couldn’t get anywhere near the sea when I lived in Brighton and Hove as
a suicidal art student. Too many biddies skittling along the prom, too many
globes of dog-poo concealed among the pebbles, too many lumps of tar glueing
me to the vomit and kebab shards, a dislike of cold water, a preference for
warm cafes, a liking for drama …)

Zak February 22, 2009 at 21:39

Of course she could have just been an avid swimmer subjected to harassment
by the authorities under the guise of, according to Stephen Fry, the ‘two most
dangerous words in the English language’, Health & Safety.

Gloria Smudd
February 22, 2009 at 21:02

No wonder she recovered if she lives in Hove – she couldn’t get anywhere
near the sea for all the old biddies trundling along the front with their
trolleys and mobilitys scooters. Not to mention that the pebble beach makes a
treck to the breaking waves both a ‘cramp-attack on the calves waiting to
happen’ and an obstacle course that only the most suicidal would attempt. Far
easier to nip into Brighton and spend an agreeable evening in one of the
hip’n’happnin’ bars ….

Gloria Smudd
February 22, 2009 at 20:52

Would anyone like reminding that I can say … Llanfair.etc…? No, I thought
not…

Henry
North London February 22, 2009 at
20:19

I worked in Aberystwyth The highlight of being there in June was to see the
sun go down I direct you to my photos on flickr that cover aberystwyth http://is.gd/ksut

Anna Raccoon
February 22, 2009 at 20:24

Gosh Henry, the place looks almost reasonable bathed in the soft glow of
a setting sun – if I didn’t know the reality of the place through the rest
of the year, I might even be tempted!

Zak February 22, 2009 at 18:47

Have you ever heard of the Darwin awards? A group of people trawl through
coroners reports and news stories of the planet to find the people that have
killed themselves in the most stupid of ways or as they put it “Honouring
those who improve the species…by accidentally removing themselves from
it”.

I would say Amy could qualify as the person that has been nominated the
most times without ever having won the award….

Without wanting to sound like a heartless b*****d; I may have jumped in as
many as ten times, but 50 are you having a laugh? I don’t know about
relocating her, couldn’t they have moved her into the RNLI building and let
her out when they need to do an exercise?

Anna Raccoon
February 22, 2009 at 18:50

Or stored her on top of the Arts Centre for the fire brigade……?

Practical, Zak, heartless, but you did make me laugh!

Anna Raccoon
February 22, 2009 at 18:52

Spit has cooked dinner – see you later everyone!