Stevenage

I've spent the last couple of days mostly playing bridge in Stevenage.

Stevenage is, for want of a better word, a total and utter shithole. Actually, let me slightly rephrase that: Stevenage town centre is a roundabout-infested, soul-crushing, concrete nightmare of a shithole.

What's worse, though, is that Stevenage traps the unwary with the promise of so much. From the outside, it looks so inviting: good transport links to London, the Midlands, as well as Stansted and Luton airports, all in green and leafy Hertfordshire. It sucks you in with its tantalising grasp. Once it's got you, though, you realise what a terrible mistake you've made. A maze of identikit concrete shops, a little corner by the bus station reserved for a gaggle of pubs, and a leisure centre that is identical to any other of its type up and down the country. All wrapped up with a Tesco Extra.

I actually got lost coming home on Saturday, taking the wrong turn at a roundabout where it turns out that the A602 goes in three different directions: back the way I'd come, a short spur towards the A1(M) (where I wanted to be) and also towards Ware and Hertford, definitely not where I wanted to go but where I ended up heading. The trouble is, one roundabout looks pretty much like any other, and by the time I'd crossed three of them and realised my mistake, I decided to press on. It's a bloody long way to the A10 though.

At least I don't have to go back there ever again. Except perhaps next year, because, Stevenage aside, the bridge itself was pretty good.