By Dawn M. Sanders

Just thought I would write this diddy for a humble and uncelebrated little place.

As I wind down my time here at the RNC, the main thing I wanted to do before I left the West Midlands is see the town of Hereford – actually correction, it’s a city, but only because of a cathedral.

Like most British places, it’s of course steeped in rich heritage.

When I came here to try an sharpen up some of my IT skills and gain some media production knowledge – I really knew nothing of the little city – particularly that it used to be part of Wales.

So yesterday, myself and a chirpy bright young American volunteer, walked the short distance into town via a busy road and over a railway bridge.

Saturday is market day in Hereford, so I knew it would be busy.

When we got into the main part of the town she explained the shops as we passed them.

I loved the old style market, abuzz with people, smells of food, herbs and traders shouting out, ‘strawberries and blue buries a pound, one left to go for free’…

It was a scene you see less and less of with big supermarkets taking over the way people buy food and other wears on offer, so I relished the vibe as people were content to stroll along the pedestrianised streets, chatting in a bouncing slightly sing-song western accent.

We walked further on down to the river, as I’m a keen walker, with the afternoon sun beaming bright in its autumnal glory.

The volunteer and I remarked on how strange it was to hear seagulls when Hereford is so landlocked.

We walked around the river which would lead us back into the narrow street where I had bought some natural products, as Church Street reminded me of a scaled down version of any given meandering lane in Brighton.

We walked back through the market – retracing our steps and stopped to enjoy a snack from the Thai stall where the food was prepared fresh in front of us.

How lovely it is that there really are still non-touristy, simple places where people are happy to just be…




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