I may have moved house three times in the five years that I've lived in Wolverhampton, but I haven't moved very far. The second house was four roads up from the first one, and this one is only one road up from it. All the houses have felt very different (certainly this one cos it's all mine and the Yeti has never been here). It feels like I lived in that horrible first house a hundred years ago, so it shocks me every time when I walk to the end of this road and look left and see it. It's also very weird nipping into the local shop, as it's the one practically opposite the first house and walking round there brings back memories that are not always good. (There are about 15 small supermarkets here so it wasn't the closest one to the second house).
Anyway, as usual I digress.
The fact I haven't moved very far means that my walk to and from work has been essentially the same route for five years. When heading home I cross the ring road and walk down Merridale Street which is one long straight road. I pass the posh car sales room, the dodgy pub next to a concrete blocky church, the garage where they've covered all the windows so the police can't see what stolen cars they're working on. Past a playground, the fire station and the old pub that became a funeral home last spring. Then comes the only bit of my route that has changed. For the first house I'd go straight on, for the other two I cut left through the park (ok in summer, a little scary in winter) and catch a whiff of the *interesting* smoke from the group of boys by the basketball court. Then I used to go left again but now I go straight on down the road to reach home.
Having had the same route for such a long time means that often I don't notice most of it. I reach home having immersed myself in my headphones (but never so loud that I can't hear what's happening around me) and having walked it on autopilot.
Tonight the world made me look at it.
As I came to the top of Merridale Street I looked along down it and was amazed by the sunset. The whole sky was dark and cloudy apart from a strip at the end of it that was orange and gold and pink and crimson in lovely hazy stripes. The buildings either side meant that the only bit of the sunset I could see was the bit at the end of the road, with trees (in the cemetery at the end) standing black outlined against it.
I wished and wished that I'd had my camera, although I know I wouldn't have been able to capture it.
I wished that my sister was visiting as I know that she would have been able to photograph it and do it justice.
But most of all I wished that I could have phoned my dad and described it to him, instead I spoke to Anthony and have blogged it in an attempt to keep that glowing band of colour in my minds eye.