Taunton
04 August 2005
People from Taunton know that they don’t have it too bad. They do not live with the perpetual stench of sulphur that hangs over Bridgwater, and they have even avoided the excesses of incest that bedevil neighbouring, and aptly named, Watchet. As for Chard, well that’s somewhere even holidaying Glaswegian’s give a wide berth.
Taunton, with its twee, historic centre and pseudo-affluent High Street is surely the embodiment of English country towns. People go there for the weekend, some even travelling long distances to stay at the Castle Hotel, which boasts one the UK’s top kitchens. As a fact, this is of little use or interest to most, but in anywhere with any self regard it would at least be trumpted locally. But not in Taunton.
It is the spirit crushing banality of the locals that qualifies Taunton for specific criticism. The county town of Somerset, its only national claim is a top flight cricket team, which is regarded as a matter of complete indifference in the town. It had until recently no cinemas as the old three (and the theatre) were closed due to disinterest. Music venues went the way of the cinemas, and the concept of the gallery would not even register comprehension to your average yokel.
If you truly want to revel in the human void go to Taunton. Even people from Bridgwater avoid it.
Nick Masters
"I do nothing and then I do something. But it's taken years of investigating idleness in all its forms to be able to achieve this. My discipline is borne out of concerted study of idleness."