The view from St Oswalds Church

 

I'm back in Oswestry! As some of my long-term readers will know, I used to live in this adorable little worldlet, hang out in its parks, piss in its toilets, and make the occasional appearance at local live music events. Speaking of which, an old chum from one such local metal band went on to become Mayor, which was unexpected but totally awesome.

 

I just checked and I actually do own two of his bands old CDs. They're like archaeological relics from my old life. It's very wholesome. Anyway, Mayor Jay was able to pull some strings for me, and get me permission to photograph the view from one of Oswestry's most prominent buildings, St Oswald's church.

 

So for anyone not familiar with Oswestry, like everyone in the world except for people from Oswestry, St Oswald was a historic figure who allegedly fell in battle somewhere around here way back in 642. Having been sliced and diced quite a bit, various parts of Oswald were no longer attached, and according to legend, a large bird yoinked his arm and flew off with it. It took the arm to a tree, which became invigorated and full of life, and then when the bird dropped the arm, a spring emerged from the ground where it landed. Both the spring and the tree are said to have healing properties. For a Christian legend it's got some interestingly Pagan undertones, but that's not too surprising. Early Christianity did try to consume Paganism like some big Jesusy borg, slapping new holidays over their equinoxes and whatnot, purely because it would be easier to win people over.

The towns name "Oswestry" is derived from "Oswald's Tree." The towns name in Welsh, "Croesoswallt" derives from "The cross of Oswald," although "Croeso" is also "Welcome" in Welsh, so it could be misconceived that the name derives from "Welcome Oswald." Except he wasn't welcome, was he? They chopped off his damn arm.

 

 

I decided to snap up a few more bits and bobs from the churches off-limits areas as I made my way up the tower, purely because the church is so riddled with history. There's been a worshiping site on this land for almost a thousand years, although it was apparently damaged and used as a barn during the Civil War, and it has been rebuilt twice since. But even so, everything here is delightfully ancient.

 

 

There's an entire room in the tower where old broken headstones have been displayed on the walls, naming people who died in the 1600s. It's absolutely amazing.

 

 

And also mounted on the wall is this "table of benefactions" listing names from as far back as 1604. 

 

 

The tower is as I expected, a big spiral staircase that wasn't designed for size twelve feet. I can't help being a genetic anomaly! I've had these monsters since birth! Mother thought she was having triplets when she saw the ultrasound. 

 

 

The bells are pretty awesome, and much larger in real life than my pictures convey.

 

And then finally, we have the top of the tower, and the awesome view.

 

 

And it's full of delicious nostalgia. That white building facing the street has a tiny flat-roofed single-storey building next to it, obscured somewhat by the trees. That was the original "Totally Games," a video game store that my friends and I used to hang out in while I was waiting for the bus home, which stopped conveniently right outside. Funnily enough Mayor Jay worked there for a bit too.

 

 

Over yonder is the church situated next to what's left of Oswestry castle hidden in that big cluster of trees. The big modern eyesore next to it is the library, and it's actually pretty awesome. It looks like there's some smoke rising somewhere over there, too. That's probably just the locals burning a witch or something.

 

 

My shots aren't the best. I've somehow taken a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and used it to produce images that can best be described as adequate. But that's okay! I'm here for the experience. I never thought I'd ever get to be here.

 

St Oswalds is rather sentimental to me.

 

I shall attempt to condense the tale, but back in the day Mother mixed with a lot of men that she shouldn't mix with, and some of these men weren't allowed around children. The ones that were hadn't been caught yet. And there are a few occasions where she'd facilitate and cover up after these men, provide alibi's and whatnot. It's not really my story to tell, so I won't really be going into great detail. But we were forbidden to talk about it. The outside world was presented as villains who would rip the family apart if they knew what was happening. I think Mother liked the thrill of doing something naughty, knowing that she'd get done if people found out. 

 

Well they did find out, and my younger siblings were put into care. I was a week away from turning sixteen, so I wasn't considered a child at risk, so I fell neatly through the cracks in the system. A few years later she attempted to justify it all to me with the curious analogy that when a teenager is told not to smoke, it just makes them want to do it more. And I guess that makes sense when we're discussing teenagers smoking, but not grown adult women letting child molesters into the house. I didn't articulate that very well. Instead I launched a tirade of angry word vomit, said a bunch of cruel things, and ended up being ordered to leave. And consequently I ended up sleeping here, in St Oswalds churchyard. So as lame as it sounds, this place was my first home. I associate it with my personal freedom.

 

But I wasn't here for very long. I sofa-surfed at a few friends houses, and eventually bagged myself a full-time sofa in someones drug den on Swan Lane, in a block of soulless apartments that has now been demolished and replaced with prettier houses.

But it's nice to return here now, to my original springboard into adult life, and see it through the eyes of a functioning member of society. It could have all gone very differently from that point. Some people never bounce back. But I have all the right boxes ticked. Full-time employment, my own home, etc, with the added bonus that I literally travel the world having crazy adventures. It's very strange to look back. I don't relate to Old Me. I feel like I'm watching someone else's memories. 

And in all honesty, I've climbed buildings, abseiled down mine shafts, and swam out to shipwrecks, but I've never been in more danger than I was growing up in that house. Throwing me out was a gift wrapped in anger.

 

 

But I don't like to dwell. Let's enjoy the view!

 

 

It's interesting to see the tennis courts, given that they're walled off. Alas, activities that require hand-eye coordination aren't really my jam, what with the dyspraxia.

 

 

And of course, we have a nice view over the park, with its bandstand. This park has been a part of my life since childhood. There's a playground, bowling greens, golf courses, benches galore, and wide open green space. It's actually a pretty damn good park, and doesn't come with the same criminal park keepers that we get in Shrewsbury's Quarry Park. It's all very nostalgic to me.

 

That's about all I've got. Special thanks to former Mayor Jay for pulling the strings and getting me up here. Special thanks to the church folks for going along with it. I'm a lover of history, and high places. This church ticked those boxes while giving me a good sense of nostalgia and a chance to look back at the uglier parts of my life and see how far I've come. 

Everything's great.

 

So anyway, to conclude, social media is an algorithmic hellscape that doesn't even show my posts to most of the people who follow me, but if you'd like to have a slim chance of seeing any future blogs, then follow me on Instagram and Facebook! I'm also Vero, Twitter, Reddit and Threads for some reason. I'm fishing for alternatives since the big cheeses are making an absolute mockery of what social media used to be, but unfortunately everywhere is slightly shit.

But hey-ho.

Thanks for reading!