Stamford is lovely.
I mean it, really beautiful. Strolling home along the river on a sunny Sunday evening has been frequently one of my weekend highlights. At this very minute, there is a music festival taking place on the Meadows, which I can hear from my little house on the other side of town. All in all, plenty of positives including:
- a generous supply of coffee shops
- a great many charity shops
- quite a few not-too-expensive-but-a-bit-pricier-than-standard boutiques
- interesting jewellery shops
- Collyweston stone
- beautiful bridges over the river
- Burghley house/park
- the Tobie Norris
The only thing it's lacking is anyone else my age to enjoy all the above with. Now, there surely must be other early-mid twenty-somethings around somewhere. Surely?!
I think they must all be very good at hiding.
I realised today that not only does my job run out in 3 weeks, but also my life here. No longer will I sing in the band with the boys; no longer shall I stagger home from Morrison's beladen with too much stuff I probably shouldn't have bought; no longer shall this little house be mine.
I feel like Stamford has been on loan to me for a year. I have dipped in, dabbled about and now I'm drying off and moving on.
(How did that happen? Though I hear they've just got a new Costa. Someone must have told them I was coming...)