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My hometown was a weird and wonderful place growing up as a teenager. Whereas many of my peers felt bored and constrained by the town (almost entirely due to their own lack of interest, imagination and initiative) I felt alive and stimulated by the environment and its energy.

The wide expanses of tarmac, concrete and paved surfaces accompanied by various planters, banks, ledges, blocks, gaps, handrails and stairs that seemed custom-made purely for me to skateboard. Many happy and inspired hours were spent throwing down different lines, combinations and whatever tricks I felt able to try on a given day. Some magical times for sure to which were added many colourful, interesting and unusual characters: John Phooey, Mad Frank, the drunk twins, homeless Dave, Rob the knob, Sean the nutter and a plethora of individuals - some amusing and entertaining, others who were somewhat sad and pathetic but harmless and then those who were downright volatile and plain dangerous…and everyone avoided them wherever possible.

Rob the Russian was one such harmless character. Dressed in a long overcoat with a scarf, sporting an unkempt beard with a head of thinning and whispy greying hair Rob would shuffle along rather than walk (as I suspect he was quite infirm given how little he looked after himself).

He was well known around the town - particularly in the summer when his lack of personal hygiene meant you could often smell him before actually seeing him. The layers of dirty clothing that he wore only served to bake whatever filth he was caked in when the sun was at its peak which, as you may well imagine, made for a less than pleasant olfactory experience.

The pretty unsuspecting teenage girls congregated in their groups in the church square were often the target of his pranks as he would stand close behind one of them, wait for them to turn around and suddenly stick his tongue out in their direction. This almost always resulted in said girl shrieking and running away which, even though creepy and unsettling, was still, on some levels, amusing to witness.

I don’t know how old he was but I suspect he would have been in his late fifties to possibly early sixties back in the mid-90’s. It was hard to tell as he was in a rather filthy, pitiful and neglected state and possibly looked a lot more aged than he actually was. I heard that he had once been a successful accountant back in the 70’s but gradually lost his mind after the death of his mother. Whether that is true or not I have no idea but he was allegedly gifted the name Rob the Russian as he had been known to dart down the street during the height of the Cold War, talking into a make-believe walkie talkie trying to avoid communist spies (who, as you may well have realised, simply weren’t there).

He was just a harmless old man who wasn’t playing with a full deck of cards. Nothing more than a source of amusement to many in the town (and sometimes an irritant too…particularly with those pretty teenage girls who he would go out of his way to scare). Just another lost soul who fell through the cracks in society.

In a strange way he was one of the reasons why I loved my hometown growing up - the sheer variety of “characters” that were present (even if their personal circumstances may have been pitiful and tragic on reflection now…and, with the benefit of an adult’s perspective, it must have been a quite lonely existence for him on many levels). Without my really understanding this at the time such “characters” added a certain flavour to my hometown which made the environment feel a lot gentler albeit quirkier and entertaining.

The last I heard of Rob the Russian was his untimely death, not long after being battered senseless in an unprovoked attack by a gang of young lads, in the early years of this century.

The place has changed beyond recognition now. I simply don’t recognise my hometown anymore.

Where once there were many quirky and colourful characters now there are just violent yobs, teenage gangs, junkies, ever increasing numbers of homeless people sleeping in shop doorways and people I can no longer identify with. Attitude, aggression and a complete absence of consideration, courtesy and respect for others appears to be the common currency these days. Like a tragic comedy that ran out of steam and is now circling the sewer with ever greater speed the town feels like it is on permanent life-support.

The environment feels far colder and more oppressive, the people less hospitable and more violent. The energy is just wrong, wrong, wrong on so many levels. What felt like a familiar old friend has now become a dangerous stranger that leaves me feeling increasingly unwelcome and very, very unsafe.

It’s saddening to see what was once a vibrant town become a broken shadow of itself but so much of the UK feels like that now. Something feels desperately amiss with the country as a whole. It certainly isn’t a place I can, nor want to, call home anymore.

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