I moved to Bristol. And got married.
Bristol, a city recommended to me by so many people, has been in the back of my mind for years as somewhere I want to live. We visited here years ago, together even though we weren’t together, to have a meeting with a promoter about an event. We met at the Canteen and then after the meeting walked down towards the bear pit and out towards the quays. I loved it. The city felt fresh and new, ripe with creative juices running out from people’s minds into the streets around them. Warmer than Manchester, both the weather and the city itself. Don’t get me wrong, I love Manchester and it hogs to itself a huge part of my heart, but everything felt a little bit easier here. Back in 2014 I had met a lot of people mentioning how amazing the city was, and many musicians and bands who had walked through our doors were from Bristol. After just one afternoon, we didn’t even stay for an evening out, I felt it. Whatever that spark is that pulls people here and gets them to stay, I felt it in my chest and it stayed with me.
Fast forward three years later, and after living all around London, renting our own flat in Peckham, being property guardians in a police station in Streatham and then doing a flat share in Brixton we were planning our next move. My heart wanted Manchester. We came close to moving in with one of our best friends who lives up there. That fell through, and just as it did another friend messaged me asking if we fancied moving in with her and another mutual friend of ours. In Bristol. It was the perfect fit. We agreed to move into a house we had never seen, in a city we had only visited one afternoon a few years back.
Bristol is as gorgeous as I remember, and now that I’m here I can start trying dissect and understand what it is that generated those feelings in me when I first visited. There is so much music and art here, it is everywhere.