A year of the Cirencester blog

One year Wold.

To say “it’s been an interesting 12 months” is almost banal nowadays. Pick any 12 month period in the last 50 or so and given the upheaval that is going on, well, almost anywhere you care to name, it will feel like a lot has happened within that time. There is plenty to give you cause for utter despair – clueless politicians pretending they understand the modern world, despots left right and centre, and a narcissistic nutter squatting in the White House. Even as I write this, the headlines are full of missile strikes against a despot who is alleged to have gassed his own people.

Even our lovely home town of Cirencester has not been immune to controversy. If you don’t believe me, say the word ‘Chesterton’ to any Cirencestrian and watch them roll their eyes or give a puff of the cheeks. So what, then, does a small blogging collective in the Cotswolds and its periodic output over the last 12 months matter when set against all of that?

On one level – on several levels, probably – not very much at all. We’d be the first to admit that our voice is no more worthy of being listened to than any of the hundreds or thousands of others that have something to say. But that helps us keep our feet on the ground, our focus close to home: the Cotswolds.

The reason we started writing about Cirencester and its environs was because there was so much we felt we wanted to tell other people about, even if all they gleaned from it was a different take on something they already know well. We also felt that there was a gap, that there was a lack of local bloggers and articles about the area. That, happily, turned out not to be true. In fact, we’ve come across so many people during the last year – here or on Instagram – who are clearly as passionate about our shared muse as we are, if not more so.

What comes across, as we read articles and look at the myriad photos, is the pervading sense of positivity. When reviewing places (eateries mainly, but only because there are so many on offer) it’s easy to slip in a couple of niggles, or even be openly critical, but I rarely see that. That’s just remarkable when set against the polarised, opinionated world we now seem to live in.

During the last year, we’ve have been reminded what a fantastic asset we have in Cirencester Hospital, we’ve eaten well (whether at breakfast, lunch or dinner) and of course we’ve enjoyed the seemingly limitless beauty and splendour of the Cotswolds. And while it’s not been all good news – remember when we lost the health shop in Castle Street and one of our two Whiddett’s? – even that gave us one of the best quotes ever given to a local paper.

I was chatting to a blogger friend of mine about writing about the town or city where you live. The emerging theme of that conversation was that it involves a certain degree of mythologising, accentuating the positives. He’s right. Not only is it just a better way of approaching things, but also that, among all the craziness out there, it feels more important than ever to pay attention to the good stuff around you and show it some appreciation. You end up showcasing the best of where you live, and I’d say that’s a good thing.

So yes, it’s been an interesting 12 months (whether you take the macro or micro view) and the same will probably true for the next 12. But while “interesting times” is often used as a curse wished on others, you can easily see it in the opposite light. What is clear is that among the many adjectives you could use to describe the Cirencester and the Cotswolds, ‘interesting’ is definitely high on that list. The sheer variety of places we’ve been to in order to write content has been a joy, and what’s even more exciting is that we have so much left to discover, enjoy and share.

And there’d be no sharing were it not for those of you who have kindly read our posts, digested our thoughts and even started following us, so for that, it seems best to end on a sincere and earnest “thank you”.

etc.

A day at the hospital

Yes, I know – it hardly sounds like a programme. A day at the hospital invokes images of drab, sterile interiors, grey, featureless buildings surrounded by large, monotonous car parks. Not in Cirencester. If you are unlucky enough to have twisted an ankle while dismounting from your horse at the Sunday polo or slipped outside Waitrose on a rainy day, you can count on a welcoming, comforting and yes, picturesque environment at the local hospital.

I became an assiduous visitor when my kids were little; as a new parent, I was a little over-anxious and needed regular reassuring from the medical experts that my kids were behaving normally, even when they exhibited what I interpreted as near-death symptoms. We took many a trip to Cirencester hospital and were met, every time, with helpful staff and delightful facilities. Now that they are teenagers, I am past seeking reassurance on their normality and keener on checking on my own remaining sanity.

And so for years, we never went, only ever driving past it, barely giving it a glance, much less any brain time.

And then, just the other day – and entirely out of the blue – I had cause to be reminded of what a gem our local hospital is. My teenage son contrived to acquire yet another sports injury (and they say sports are good for you), injuring his foot while playing football. (That’s what he told the school nurse, anyway.) So there we were, my daughter and I, maladroitly but enthusiastically carrying him through the doors to the minor injuries unit, where we were mercifully relieved of our porter duties thanks to the prompt delivery of a wheelchair. Cue the embarrassing display of wheelchair driving skills – seriously, it’s not as easy as it looks – as we negotiated the narrow, twisting corridor to the waiting area. Here we were finally able to relax and enjoy the views out of the large bay windows onto the beautiful landscaped gardens, and admire the other hospital wing facing us: a beautiful Victorian manor house.

Cirencester hospital is set on a hilltop, in a central position in the town. The manor house we spent those couple of hours admiring is actually Querns House, a grade II listed building, built in 1825 in the Tudor style. Being a converted manor house and a period building, it features the traditional mellow Cotswold stone (now pleasingly mottled with lichen), church-style windows,  and rolling landscaped gardens. There’s even an internal garden that you can enjoy through the glass panels lining the corridors around it.

Being a market town hospital, it exists on a smaller scale than other, more modern hospitals and as such appears less forbidding and more human in scale. It has little charming traits: take the tiny shop that sells refreshments (sandwiches, pens, toys and a therapeutic cup of tea), run by a sweet elderly lady, the sort who could easily feature in a children’s storybook as the archetypal spoiling grandmother. We have made several attempts to adopt her during our visits to the hospital – yes, she’s been there a while –  but  it turns out she has enough grandchildren already. Such a pity.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I enjoyed my ante-natal appointments there and was really saddened to learn the maternity ward had been just closed; what a serene place it would have been to enjoy the miracle of motherhood! (Although, with hindsight, the screams accompanying childbirth might have spoiled the relaxed atmosphere of the place.)

Fortunately, while the maternity unit is no more, other units remained – and remain – open, though the shadow of closure seems to have hung over the place for some time. Every few months, rumours seems to surface about a potential closure of this cherished establishment; happily, this has not happened yet, even if there has been some down-scaling of services. We need our hospital to survive; it serves a large network of surrounding villages as well as Cirencester itself, and offers prompt assistance for injuries that need attending to as a matter of urgency and would otherwise require a long trip to Gloucester on a busy dual carriageway.

So as a call to action, I urge you to support our local hospital, keep an eye on its status and voice your appreciation for it. Be more adventurous and incur the odd sprain, dislocation or break.  My son  – collar bone fracture and this latest sprain – should be an example to us all. His self-sacrifices on the playing fields of Deer Park have been our family’s contribution to keeping it in business! If there is to be a silver lining to the new, extensive housing construction planned for our town, it ought to be that it justifies better facilities for our community and more investment in this undervalued town institution. One can hope.