Bristol, the Paris of the West Country

I drove to visit a friend in Chepstow today and on my way back into Bristol, driving down the M32 approaching the junction for Easton, it suddenly occurred to me that this city has been my home for nearly 9 years.  I'm always extolling its virtues to others (because I love it so) and leaving it is going to be a bit of a wrench, not least because I'm not sure when/if I'll be coming back, apart from the obvious visits to my dearest.  So, in honour of 9 years of living in the city that is the jewel in the West Country's crown, this is a list of things that I have loved about Bristol , in no particular order:

• The way that it seems that, no matter where in the city you are, there's always some green and hilly countryside somewhere in view.
• The accent.  It took me several years to understand someone talking in full Brizzle but I'm mostly there now and I love it.  'Cheers drive'; 'alright my love'; 'gert lush'; 'alright, innit'; 'oh my life, oh my days'; 'ark at ee!'; 'zider I up'; 'borrow me a [-] will you?'; and my particular favourite 'where's that to?'  As in, 'So you live in Redland?  Where's that to, then?'  Or, 'Where are we to in the book, Miss?' in class.
• The way it's full of lots of little bits that are basically villages stuck together with a some (badly planned) roads in between: Horfield, Clifton, Hotwells, Redland, Bedminster, Henbury, Southmead, Westbury, Henleaze.  (I only really lived/worked in the north and west so don't start harping on about the places I've missed out.)
• The way it never seems to take more than half an hour to get anywhere except when the traffic's bad and even then you can always get around faster if you take that short cut round the back of the docks through to the Louisiana and on to Temple Meads.
• The way things end in -leaze or -mead or -bury or -burg or have 'stoke' somewhere.
• Gloucester Road (or 'the G-Road', thanks Christy) and its bevy of cafés, little shops, greengrocers, hardware shops, bakers, butchers, random furniture shops,  The Saturday morning trawl down the strip from Dave Giles Butcher (purveyor of the finest chickens that can be bought and an awesome £5 pork loin deal), to Pawsons' greengrocers (with its bags of aubergines and tomatoes on offer every week), past the little Indian newsagents where there's always a queue to Joe's Bakery for an iced bun.  Local British shopping at its best.
• Walking Herbie the dog (my pastors' labrador) from Hotwells over the disused railway bridge and along the river, under the suspension bridge and up into Leigh Woods where the light coming through the trees makes everything green and damp and mossy.
 
The view at the start of the aforementioned walk.
• Primrose Café.  And Coffee No. 1.  And Chandos Deli, with its amazing cheeses and awesome serrano ham and olive baguettes.
• Pubs - of course.  From my early (and ill-advised) days in the Berkeley to the Lansdown, the Deco Lounge, the Bristol Flyer, Robin Hood's Retreat, the Pumphouse, the Cambridge Arms, the Royal Oak, the Sportsman's Arms (hideous man's pub but they always show the rugby and the atmosphere just about makes up for it), to many late nights in the Woods and summer afternoon drinks in that pub behind Spike Island whose name I never remember.  Honourable mention should also go to the White Lion in Westbury which is also a minging old man's pub but it has a lovely garden and was the local for Friday drinks after school.
• The Spike Island Open Weekend, an annual highlight even if some of the art on display was pretty bizarre (the room with the dolls' heads, anyone?).
• Banksy's oeuvre in general, but in particular the teddy bear throwing a petrol bomb at police in the 'Mild, Mild West' on Stoke's Croft.
• Park Street and College Green on a summer's day.
• Picking blackberries on the Downs in the autumn.
• The joy of unexpected hot-air balloon sightings.
• Hope Community Church and Sunday breakfasts in summer, with everyone spilling out onto the drive in the sunshine.  To quote Merlin, 'it's rather like the Boulevard St. Germain'.
• Hausbar, the world's greatest cocktail bar.  The man who introduced me to it won't thank me for talking about it in such an open forum, but I couldn't hold back.  Sorry Tim.
• Driving over the Downs on my way to school each autumn, watching the leaves turn all sorts of wonderful colours and then, inevitably, cover the ground with slush in time for Bonfire Night and the big Downs bonfire/fireworks.
• Cornwallis Crescent - the secret garden, the view, the balcony, the summer garden parties and Bonfire Night shindig.  Two glorious years of living, thanks to Si and Shirl.
• And last, but definitely not least, Pieminister Pies.  How I shall miss them.  Mine's a Matador, if you're asking.

Goodbye, Bristol.  You've done me proud.