Death of the High Street…

This has been a familiar term to me for years. Not too long ago we saw the shift from going to the high street to do your shopping, to driving out to industrial estates with huge Supermarkets selling everything under one roof. The convenience can’t be denied.

But I am one for saving what should be saved, so I have been looking at what it is that I no longer enjoy about the high street. Previously I used to enjoy being able to walk to town, go to the post office, maybe a charity shop or two, pick up some stationary and maybe pay in a cheque. Just a small list of jobs could involve a minimum of four premises, with a possible stop in a book shop or other clothing shop. But as times have changed this is no longer an option.

Most post office have now closed in smaller villages and in towns have been assimilated into convenience stores, often the staff looking confused at the most simple request. Most clients now pay online, so the need to ‘pop’ to the bank just isn’t there. And none of us could have escaped Amazon, anything you can want, within a day. Saving you travel time, parking fees and shopping time. That’s got to be a win. In comparison, the delivery fees are cheaper than your time. This is a slightly separate but related issue – the infrastructure of this country. It takes an awfully long time to get anywhere by way of a motor vehicle. Not just due to congestion and idiotic road works (where you have a massive piece of road sectioned off for a tiny piece on the pavement, and no one working on it!), but we don’t seem to have a logical system of traffic lights either. No-one looks at the overall flow of traffic, because surely if people can get where they are going, we can all get on and either spend money or make money. After all, that’s what it’s all about apparently. If people can get to work, the economy grows, this is why I am starting to think its meant to be this way, because some things are so easy to improve.

So it takes an age to drive to your high street if you can’t walk, and you will have to pay for parking if you can find any. We very rarely encounter a free car park here (that’s also where the large shopping estates won, they had free massive car parks). Lots of shopping centers within towns have many empty shops and what you do have doesn’t seem to be anything people want.

But, aside from the problems of cost, need and availability for shops there is another issue. We come to quality and customer service. Both of which I now think are long gone. I have worked in retail, as well as hospitality and commercial offices before going into finance, so I do understand what it takes to do these jobs. Most of my recent disappointing experiences in establishments have been down to the people or the product they are selling. It could well be that I have indeed managed to move somewhere that is feeling more and more like a cross between Hot Fuzz and The League of Gentlemen. I do not expect to be looked up and down when booking an appointment, I do not expect to be told ‘no we don’t sell hydrangeas’ when they are literally right behind me it turns out. And I don’t expect to wait for over five minutes before no-one appears, or served moldy food in the shop down the way. This is only within a few months, but it gives me an idea of what is going wrong. I can now say I won’t be putting my money into my local shops and I would say this is the suicide of the high street, not just the death of. I guess the old saying springs to the mind in these instances “If your face doesn’t fit…” But money is money in my book, and manners and etiquette come for free, so no excuse. There are so many things bothering me about this country at the moment, I feel this may not be the last rant!

IMG_8934

(c) K Wicks

Decisions…

I think it all started with the first real decision that was put upon me.

‘Who do you want to live with? Your mum, or your dad?’

I remember the room, I remember the solicitor and her name. I remember the feeling, the emotion, and confusion and ultimately the decision that I felt was so heavy on my shoulders. I didn’t understand why they were asking me, I was nobody, the youngest. I was 7. I looked at my older siblings and understood they would say mum, so I took the unspoken implied lead and said what I thought I should say. It was power I didn’t want. I almost feel as though I stepped out of my body to make this decision and once I was out, I could see myself as a person. Sudden self-awareness all at once while under pressure, it was overwhelming and enlightening to say the least.

And from that I believe, my ability to make decisions was affected, either for good or bad I’m not entirely sure. But I have spent much time in my life mulling over the fallout from that, how many lives were changed forever just from that one question and answer that followed. My self-awareness became like a friend and a dark shadow to me after that. I was a child trying to learn how to function in a society I was already part of, but felt more apart from than they could ever know. Trying to work out other people’s intentions, while constantly questioning your own makes it hard to join in and just be yourself. I didn’t know who ‘myself’ was. And I didn’t join in. I was invited to very few birthday parties in my childhood and although I lived in a socially busy house, my home was not really open to friends from school unless they had been ‘vetted’ by my mum. This was awkward in itself and I found it easier to just not invite people home or go to their house instead. They usually had quite normal parents and it was nice sometimes to pretend to be a normal happy go lucky child, I could pull it off for a few hours at a time.

I was troubled though, I won’t lie. My awareness may have increased, but my understanding did not. And this started to lead me into all sorts of trouble and behaviours. I struggled to adapt to life, like many I’m sure. But sometimes I wonder if I ever really got over the sudden change and sense of responsibility, could it be that someone can spend their whole life being in shock?…

IMG_2671

(c) K Wicks