When the daylight has faded

Ode to my hometown (#twin)

The white winter mist reveals the large structure, once a hallmark of this area, now desperately trying to cling to the 80s or early 90s. You had to have played the big round hall of the internationally-recognised beer town if you wanted to call yourself a real musician, was the 80s stars' global consensus.

A wistful smile on my face, I remember several foreign fans flocking to my hometown, blackened by the steel factory's labour and its mighty chimney that kept me up at night.

"This is a country road?"

One American guy who had stopped me to ask for directions had made me laugh.

"Yeah, around here roads longer than the John Denver song are called country roads," I had replied, knowing exactly where the poor guy's confusion stemmed from. "Your cattle ranch probably stretches longer than this road, but if you want to get to the concert hall you'd better get going. Half the world is converging on this place right about now."

I cannot recall which concert he was after. There were too many, Pink Floyd, The Police, Dire Straits, U2, Phil Collins, Bruce Springsteen, Tom Petty, just to name a few. I can recall myself swaying in a crowd of sweaty people to songs from all over the word, remember Dire Straits deafening me when I ended up squashed right next to their speakers.

After the last note had faded, night-life called, the glitter and glamour of the bars, the rough pulsing steel heart of the pubs, and the discos where musicians worked the crowds.

I turn to my teenaged daughter.

"This was hallowed ground back in the day, believe it or not. Now the stars perform in huge football stadiums somewhere else, the clubs and bars have made space for insurance company offices and the few pubs left are struggling to survive upset neighbours and gutless politicians."

"In school we learned that the structural change in this region is exemplary. We went from a dirty blue-collar to a green white-collar town," my daughter challenges me.

I nod. She's right, of course. We have the tech park now. Lots of educated people making lots of money. Even the football stadium carries a corporate name these days.

On the flipside, there are lots of less educated people unable to find the type of well-paid jobs that our steel works provided. Politicians just don't mention these people and structural change in one sentence too often.

I sigh and wonder about my hometown's twin cities, in France, the US, the UK. Have they lost their soul, too?

Just then a scruffy-looking old man plants his butt next to ours on the wooden bench and takes a noisy sip from his beer bottle. He burps, then shows us a crooked smile.

"Overheard some o' your co'versation," he admits and turns to my daughter. "Guess what your mama is tryin' to say is: Money's great an' all, but it's the people tha' make a place." Then he looks at me. "And it's still 'ere. The soul, the heart. Look a' us! Two worlds, an' we sit here talking."

I give him a huge grin. He's right. Underneath it all, we are still the same people we always were – with the accent and attitude to prove it!