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Part two of Natalie Burns' look at Bristol life from a Northern perspective

Click here to read part one

Slowly but surely, Bristol has crept up and claimed me as one of its own. 

Some of the factors at work are the usual ones - many of my old friends from the shire have moved away, and the ones who haven’t are settled with mortgages and husbands and kids. I’m still acting like a daft teenager most of the time - an attitude which definitely suits Bristol!

Importantly though, something else happened during my years here. I got into the Bristol way of life, much more than I ever got into the Lincolnshire one. I like the art, the museums, the local music, the cafés, pubs and restaurants. I love the suspension bridge and the beautiful Georgian and Victorian housing, juxtaposed with the run down grime and the graffiti in places like Stokes Croft. We don’t get proper graffiti at home, unless you count someone artlessly writing ‘so and so woz ere ‘99’ in felt tip on a bus stop. 

Above all, I like the people. They’re mad, but they’re friendly with it. Bristol is full of all sorts of people, and like everywhere else it has its share of problems – crime, racism, poverty, you name it. But considering its size, and the peculiar mix of inhabitants with different styles, ideas, backgrounds and concerns, everyone is pretty happy to take an interest in everyone else - and if it’s not for them, just let them get on with it.

People here are happy to welcome you in. I suppose that’s why so many people, having planned to or not, end up staying here. Fear-mongering in the news about gangs and intolerance, the sheer size of cities and the hard and cynical nature that the city supposedly imposes on its inhabitants had given me a sense of dread about moving to Bristol. Like everywhere, there is obviously a mix of good and bad here. As a newcomer who ticks a fair few of the warning boxes – a young woman, a student, being mixed race, and living in some of the ‘dodgy’ areas due to my lack of cash, my experience of Bristol has been one of feeling welcome and having fun.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I still have fond feelings for my village at home, but it’s there that I now feel out of place. Bristol has apparently equipped me with the freedom to dress and act in a way more peculiar than is acceptable at home, the confidence to hold opinions and views that often seem odd back in the shire, and the confidence to admit that I would rather work in a bar and try and be a writer than settle down and have kids and a husband – at least for the moment.

Basically, it’s a place that lets you be yourself, whatever that may be, as long as it harms no one else. The thing that really made me realise Bristol is where I now feel at home was booking myself into the hairdressers in my little village in Lincolnshire. It’s always the little things that make you realise the big ones I think. Despite not having been there for years, the hairdresser recognised me when I came in;

‘You’re Mike and Judy’s kid, right?’ She asked. ‘Not seen you round here awhile’.

‘I moved away a bit ago’ I replied.

‘To Lincoln?’

‘No, Bristol’ I said. And I may as well have said Mars.

‘Bloody hell!’ She exclaimed, and called to her friend out back ‘Karen, this lass has moved to Bristol!’

And a reply of ‘Blimmin‘ek!’ was all Karen had to say.

When I took my card out to pay for the haircut, Karen looked at me and said

‘Cash only, we’ve not got one of them machines in here. You’re not in Bristol now love!’ And for the first time I knew I’d feel more comfortable if I was. On the upside, unlike in Bristol, the cut and blow-dry only cost me a fiver, which luckily I had in cash. Some things are better in the country!

Natalie Burns is a freelance writer and reviewer, who's glad to be making Bristol her home.