Firstly, before we get to where we are going, I should explain the title. I am indeed a northerner, hailing from sunny Bradford in West Yorkshire (although recently exiled in neighbouring Leeds), and, as the title so helpfully suggests, I am ‘abroad’. Not too difficult really is it? But why not “A Brit Abroad’ or something similar. Well, it’s simple really, and can best be explained by a comment my history teacher, Mr Aske (what a great name for a teacher by the way), made when discussing European nationalism during the 19th Century. (I’ve just reread that and realised it could be read to mean that Mr Aske was teaching me in the 19th Century. Obviously not the case.)
“You see the thing with nationalism is that it has many different forms, and not always
relating to a nation as a whole. Take me for example, as a Yorkshire man the first war I
would sign up for would be against the Lancastrians. Then, second on the list, The North
versus The South. Then, having won both of those I would triumphantly march into Paris
and teach the French a thing or two about life, mainly that snails are not food.”
Now, being a kind hearted sort of bloke I will give Askey the benefit of the doubt here; he was exaggerating to make a point, as is any teachers wont. He probably expected to raise a smile, or even a laugh, but he forgot that he was preaching to the converted, and all he got was 30 heads, nodding in unison, wondering when the order would be given to retake Saddleworth Moor from those bloody Lancs. Before I lose you altogether, the point I’m long-windedly trying to make is that, I, Thomas Clayton, being of sound mind, consider myself first and foremost as a Northerner. In truth, first and foremost I’m a Yorkshire man, but I thought “A Yorkshire Man Abroad” would put all the Lancastrians off from buying this, and there’s nothing us Tykes like more than taking money of a Lanc (forward thinking you see, I will get published!!) So, I’m a northerner, and all that entails.
Now then, how about the abroad bit of the title. Stereotypes would suggest that that could mean anything south of Sheffield, west of Halifax or north of Richmond. In fact, I am heading for Vienna. I had to resist the urge to write “Vienna, Austria” there. Of course its bloody Austria, every fool knows that, it just seems we need to clarify everything remotely geography related for our friends across the pond these days doesn’t it? To be fair though, they did steal all their place names from us Europeans anyway, so they may be easily confused, I daresay there is a Vienna somewhere in the US. Anyway, I digress (get used to it I’m afraid). Vienna, capital of Austria, former home of Napoleon (more of a temporary residence than anything), centre of the long forgotten Austro-Hungarian empire, and gateway to Central and Eastern Europe, at least that is what my guide book says. I’m going there to work, not just swan about in parks, drink coffee and write witty witticisms (can a witticism be anything but?) about the locals, though I daresay that may happen occasionally.
I suppose the next thing I should sort out is the why. Why write about going to Vienna? Well, firstly, and I’m sure you saw this one coming, but why not? Secondly, well there isn’t a second point really, other than every time I travel I think to myself that I should write about it, pass on my humour and wisdom or something. So, that’s that settled then. It’s probably worth adding here that I will undoubtedly cover not only my current spell abroad in Vienna, but also some of the previous trips I have made over the last 7 years or so since going to University as a lively 18 year old. You see being from Bradford has one huge benefit really, or two to be more precise. Firstly, Bradford was built on the textile industry, with our mills supplying countries all over the world. This means that despite being located on the slopes of the Pennines there has always being a faintly exotic air to Bradford. This is heightened by the high proportion of imported labour, much of which came in the 50s and 60s, primarily from India, Pakistan and other colonial countries, but also from Italy, Poland and Russia. As such, growing up in Bradford was probably quite different to growing up in say Newcastle or Norwich. I suppose, looking back at it now with all my worldly experience, Bradford was a forerunner for many of today’s multicultural cities. I don’t just mean the Indian restaurants for which it is famous, but also Polish social clubs and genuine Italian ice cream men, not just blokes called Barry with a dodgy moustasche and accent. I went to school with kids from families hailing from all over the world, all this not 2 miles form where Emmerdale Farm was filmed! This means that I have always had the idea in my head that the world is not such a big and scary place after all. Rather like the kids of Dockers on the Mersey or the Thames or the Tyne who dreamt of joining the merchant navy and visiting the places the cargo came from, I have always wanted to travel. The second major advantage about being from Bradford is that wherever you end up, chances are it will be better than home! Don’t get be wrong, I am proud of my home town, and since embarking on various trips I have come to appreciate it far more, but it’s hardly the stuff of postcards and poetry. Bloody good place to go for a decent meal though, as long as you don’t want anything British.
The people of the world can be divided into two groups, those who plan, and those who do not. I belong to the second group, the “let’s make it up as we go along” group. And that is very much what I intend to do here. There is no semblance of structure, no chapter headings already written down, no list of “must include” topics. It’s pretty much just me, a notepad and pen, my take on the things I see, and no doubt the odd story thrown in for good measure. As such, I can’t promise that this will be the most linear of books. I may write at length about a particular building in a part of town, then skip the rest of the district altogether in favour of a story about a uni-cycling penguin I had a dream about. I don’t honestly know, but at least by telling you now, you know what you are getting yourself into. Fair deal?
So then, onwards and upwards, chapter one awaits....
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