“There’s no bus from here to our university” says a student as he heads up Brook street. I walk to the train station on the greyest Tuesday, greeted by the statue of Thomas Brassey. The statue looks confidently at his plans, surveying his kingdom. The statue adds class to a much improved area alongside the Carriage Shed and the recently opened Station Tap. By contrast the much hyped improvements to the station itself seem minimal.

The beautifully refurbished pub is draughty, because all the doors are open. The Tap opened in April this year, which now feels like a life time away. Through rain smudged glasses, the Tap evokes the romance of travel in bygone eras. Inside the busy station, lovers meet, families reunite, criminals run their drugs (probably) and people pay the high prices in WHSmiths. Sipping a cappuccino, for the first time today I hold and caress an imaginary hand, dreaming myself to be some sort of tortured poet about to set off on a voyage into the unknown. But no don’t be a pretentious fuck, its an anytime day return to Shrewsbury.

Waiting for the train I note the new Archives Centre, well on its way to completion. I am soon onboard where I scroll through emails : Invite to Beauty and the Beast press night. KidsBank launch biggest ever appeal, cheetah brothers arrive at the Zoo, Stagecoach asking for feedback on how they dealt with my recent complaint(s) – I escalated it to my MP mate. Soon at Wrexham General, big dragon mural on the side of a building , a town/city where the charity shops close on Sundays. The platform at the station is as depressing as I remember it to be. Then the Welsh countryside rolls by, a patchwork of autumn colours in the fields and trees. Later we pass a big industrial plant, where you could imagine Jon Pertwee walking around with his sonic screwdriver in the 1970s. Another station, I forget which, has a topiary animal , crafted into what might be an elephant but looks more like her out of The Substance.

I am frustrated by the poor internet signal , the rotating circle of loading doom when I try and switch between Facebook accounts. The train wi-fi is equally useless. Sometimes you feel like you no longer exist without that connection to everything , plugged into the ocean of information. Its rare and precious to have something that roots you in the magic of the current moment.

A woman with a dog smiles at me as I get off the train, disembarking at the stately home like train station. I can immediately feel the vibrancy of the town, few empty units, street art, clean and tidy streets and footfall easily as high as Chester. No doubt a certain percentage of locals are complaining online about how awful everything is. This is a positive place make no mistake, it feels like good things are happening here, as opposed to some of the hopeless spots I’ve visited. Charles Darwin, the city’s most famous son sits proudly outside the library. Other local notables include footballer Joe Hart and Cadfael the Monk. You could also add gardener Percy Thrower, but he wasn’t born here.

The first port of call is Shrewsbury Castle, home to the Shropshire Regimental Museum. The impressively mounted collection of weapons, uniforms, medals and more traces the involvement of local regiments in conflicts right up to the present day. Facts learned include that , in 1815 at the end of the Napoleonic war, the British army had 234,000 soldiers. The prize exhibit is a lock of Napoleon’s hair, dating from his exile on St Helena where he was guarded by the Shropshire 53rd Regiment. The Napoleonic section is particularly interesting, with the names of battles remembered from TV’s Sharpe or from school. “Think of the atrocities we committed” says a man looking at a display detailing the Indian mutiny. Younger visitors can dress up or try the out the weapon simulator. Exploring the castle grounds provides further excellent views of the surrounding area and the fairy tale like Laura’s Tower (#19 of #120 things to do in Shrewsbury according to TripAdvisor).

Walking towards the main shopping centre, the high street is full of trendy eateries, independent retailers and coffee shops alongside the familiar chains. The Darwin Centre is mostly fully let apart from a closed down Julian Charles Home, and offers a regular Lego building event ( with no age restrictions ha ha).

I explore the winding cobbled streets of the city, each offering picture postcard views with the town boasting over 600 listed buildings. I explore the narrow alleys, similar to the snickleways of York, finding varied independent businesses, away from the main streets yet apparently still thriving. An art gallery is housed inside a 15th century medieval hall, its a cliché but Chester often neglects or ignores some of its historic assets. Giggling Squid Thai restaurant faces the city square- what happened to the one planned for Chester which got planning permission at the start of the year? The town has multiple artisan shops, vintage shops, all the things Chester people say they want.

“I think I’ve got a Christmas carol… the one that was filmed in she on DVD” says a woman as she walks down historic Grope Lane.

The area around the market is equally vibrant despite the closed down Bodycare, and is home to one of the few remaining Wimpys in the North. I enter the award winning Shrewsbury Market, 4 times voted the best in Britain. Its hard to disagree, with an excellent mix of traders and varied food and drink offering . The stalls evoke the golden age of markets with handwritten signs on the fruit and veg and a bustling environment. Display boards reveal the background and history of some of the key traders An upper floor houses craft and art shops, none of which would have lasted long in Chester. It’s clear this market is well supported, a happy place, as contrasted with the old Chester Market which died from lack of support and interest. There is a zero waste stall, ( like Just Footprints in Chester which closed), a Haberdashers, again not supported in Chester. A comment on my blog lays out the familiar “food hall” argument. People ignore the fact that before food traders were added to the mix in 2017, no one was championing Chester Market, period. I walk around the upper floor several times, browsing books and trinkets and art, you could spend a good while in here, with a record shop and several home/ gift shops. The top floor showcases the history of the market which opened in 1965, its controversial modern design the subject of mixed emotions over the years, surrounded by so many historic buildings. The history also echoes Chester, with the demolition of a previous historic market hall. Clearly Chester and Shrewsbury went down different routes despite similar origin stories. The Market here deserves all its accolades and is a lovely place to visit. Plus, Bobby Ball, The Bachelors and The Nolans all performed here in the 1990s.

After this I walk down Claremont Hill, a picturesque street which was 100% used in the Christmas Carol film. Last time I walked down here, post pandemic there was a Planet Doughnut store, but that has now gone. St Chad’s Church with its unusual round shape has a graveyard with a fascinating curio. Left over from the production of the film in 1984, is the gravestone of Ebenezer Scrooge. The stone was recently vandalised but has been repaired and is a unique and quirky point of interest for any visitor.

After this I walk down to the river side to see The Quantum Leap– an abstract sculpture unveiled in the town centre in 2009 to mark the bicentenary of the birth of Charles Darwin. I bet the locals hate it , but its concrete mass has a cold clinical beauty. I then pass through the bus station which looks like a scene from a Joy Division song..

I find my way to The Parade shopping centre, a former infirmary which houses an array of independent businesses, some health and beauty, some niche. Not many seem to be open but again it must be doing well, and the building is stunning. A final walk of the shops leads to British Heart Foundation (“lets beat Heartbreak forever” is the optimistic slogan) where I find a black tie which the Lord Mayor has ordered me to purchase for an upcoming event.

I take shelter from the world in Old Market Hall. On all my previous visits here I have never ventured up the steps. Built in 1596, Shrewsbury’s Old Market Hall was restored and re-opened as a contemporary cinema and cafe bar in 2004. Alongside an 81 seat cinema is a cafe/bar . I wonder if the seats are as comfortable as Picturehouse. The cafe is probably peak civilisation , although the courgette/avocado cake is a step too hipster for me. I drink the blackest coffee and browse a what’s on of events in Shropshire which I’ll never attend. A staff member with arms covered in tattoos discusses his body art with 2 curious senior citizens. I do not want to return to the real world.

I walk through the November rain , heading down Wyle Cop, packed with shop after shop, window displays shining as the night comes. I breathe in the pre Christmas gloom, everything seeming to be HD, the touch of the rain, the reflection of light on the wet cobbles, pleasingly cutting into my soul. Down another back street is an glass art gallery and a shop selling stringed instruments, its like a timeslip back to Victorian times. I could spend a long time getting lost and exploring these streets. On the way home I read through the thin pages of the Shropshire Star: ” my 150 year old bottle of beer” is the highlight.