How To: Visit the town you grew up in By Tim Fitzpatrick Be prepared… You don’t really have a say in where you go or what you do. The itinerary has already been planned for you by your past self and your present self is just going along for the ride in the double-decker tourist bus that is you, while you sit up top in the open air listening to your own internal monologues crackling through the ripped speakers. The brochure that is your slightly distorted memory promises good food, friendly locals and important landmarks. The reality, however, is something else. Not quite a let down, but never really living up to expectations either. Your old favourite burger joint has turned into a golf store, the Charcoal Chicken is out of chiko rolls and the corner store has long since sold the slush-puppie machine and replaced it with one of those twirly stands with toy guns and velcro dartboards. The school where you used to skate, the shopping centre car park where you used to punch darts, the Maccas car park, the skate park car park, all once extremely significant hubs at the centre of a diverse and progressive civilization have all changed. Possibly falling victim to the ravages of time, time or your spotty memory thanks to the, uh, activities undertaken at said locations has made them into something they never were. Then there are the locals, once identifiable by the school sports polyester tracksuit pants and the wide-brimmed hats, now covering every colour of the social spectrum. It’s like that old saying my dad used to tell me, ‘you think you know someone, but then they go and buy a bongo.’ Well, it’s exactly like that when you visit your old hometown. You think you knew people but then they’ve gone ahead and bought some bongos and a pair of those parachute pants that Spanish people all seem to wear.
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