THESE PIECES are collected from columns I wrote for the Express & Star newspaper for three years from 2005.
They remain as they were published and already they’re showing their age. A decade is a long time in a town’s life. Since they appeared, the Post Office has quit the Georgian grandeur of Chetwynd House and shuffled across the road to hide ignominiously upstairs at W H Smith’s, the county library has swapped its Shire Hall headquarters for a glass palace in Tipping Street, shedding its CD and video collections en route. The Curry Kuteer no longer exists, the Stafford Cinema (once the Apollo, once the Odeon, once the Curzon) has shut up shop faced with the upcoming challenge from a nearby multi-screen competitor, and since the launch of the new Waterfront shopping centre, the main street is in mourning.
I make no claim to be a historian. These are the recollections of a journeyman hack, a Staffordian whose fondness for the town and its people grows as time eats away at it. The tales are as true and as tall as I remember them.