Whilst walking through Lancaster recently I was struck by the vibrancy and living art of the people. The visitors and inhabitants in all their glory and variety. The multi-cultural nature of our city.
The new paving costing hundreds of thousands of pounds. The dreadfully unremarkable sculpture in Market Square. The dead and dying hanging baskets in Sun Square.
The equation leaves me baffled and bemused. It doesn’t add up somewhere. What is really going on? Who is making the decisions to spend all this money on either what is not maintained or what is laid and then torn up again to lay in a slightly different format?
I arrived here in 1973 having escaped by the skin of my teeth from London. I truly felt I had come home.
This ‘home’ is no longer a place that I recognise nor feel comfortable in.
They may have closed the asylum up the road. Surely it cannot be true that they have relocated it so centrally?