retiredmartin

July 2024. Watford.

Apologies for short posts but Chorley Travelodge (don’t ask) only give me 30 minutes free,

but I knew you’d want to see what I made of Wonderful Watford as I homed in on completing Hertfordshire last week.

I only just made the last train from St. Albans Abbey to Watford Junction, after a mad dash from my new favourite cathedral city campervan car park through the Abbey grounds.

See how packed the 21:08 is;

Two folk got on. Two got off. And then they cancelled the returns due 90 minutes later.

“Stuck inside of Watford with a replacement bus again” as Dylan sang.

Like Bethlehem, one of our lesser UK towns, but also like Bethlehem, the (almost) birthplace of legends.

I don’t think I’d surveyed the High Street in a decade or more,

a pedestrianised street of fun, chain shops and chicken shops.

Nice looking Spoons, mind.

In fairness, looking in decent health I thought,

and the floral touches are well done,

but there’s little for the fans of Lil’ Ol’ England.

But the underpass from St Mary’s to the football ground and town hospital is well-trodden,

and reminds you of Sir Elton’s finest line,

and also Watford greatest son.

Even if Graham was born in Worksop.