The Buttercross, The Railway, Jewry Street… who’d have thought such locations as these would be immortalised in song? I mean, really. This is Winchester. Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all apart from the Hat Fair and a never-ending programme of city-center roadworks. But now Frank Turner, Wessex Boy himself, has shifted the balance ever so slightly in Winchester’s favour with this single.
Turner once came out as right-wing, but later claimed it was only to ruffle a few feathers (something he succeeded in doing quite magnificently, as long as you put feather ruffling roughly on a par with inciting loathing, hatred and receiving a barrage of death threats)?
Thinking of Jewry Street reminded me of a place there called Savannah. Not much of a place, to be honest. I don’t know what has replaced it, but the most recent review of it that I can find is both succinct and accurate:
“Now thankfully closed.”