A friend today remarked that I had mentally already moved on from Bristol. She had asked me if I was sad to leave Bristol, and my response was to shrug my shoulders with that "eeeaahhhh" sound and say "a bit". Today, I did a farewell tour of the city centre. It was a sunny day and Bristol was showing its best side. As I walked around, I saw spots which I hadn't seen in ages. But, the memories of time spent in those spots simply washed over me without leaving a mark. The only spot that aroused some emotion in me was Brandon Hill. I have written about why Brandon Hill is my favourite spot in Bristol so that's no surprise. Bristol has a lot going on for it.It is an objectively very pretty city, as any visitor would tell you. Its hilliness that all cyclists curse makes for some amazing vistas and it has acres of green spaces quite close to the city centre. It a cultural and literary hub of the South-West and it has a reputation for being a progessive city. And, there was a time when I was genuinely fond of it. But, somewhere along the line the fondness curdled into indiffence. I have some theories about the reasons for this, but I won't be getting into them here.
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