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My home away from home

Dawn breaks on a Sunday morning. The sun beams through the clouds and showers the world with much needed sunlight. Birds chirp away; nature is awoken. In this beautiful moment, with the day just beginning, I discover something truly magnificent- there is now a Greggs in Plymouth. Civilisation has made it down to the far corners of Devon.

For me, this is a personal triumph. I spent three years of my life living in this beautiful corner of the country, yet a nationwide bakery chain would not grace the city with its presence. But now something that can only be described as divine intervention has occurred. It brings tears of joy to my eyes.

A place like this deserved a Greggs
This milestone for Plymouth reminds me of an article I wrote in The Tab (that's right, the prestigious student news outlet) about why Plymouth was great. I ended the article calling for Plymouth to 'embrace the future... and restore some pride' by getting a Greggs. With that dream achieved, I see myself as a true hero of the city. I would like a statue of me to be raised next to Sir Francis Drake, for we are both true heroes of the city.

The Spanish could not stop his dream of Plymouth getting a Greggs
OK, let's be serious. I highly doubt an article I wrote two years ago managed to convince the Gregg overlords to bring their chain down to Plymouth, but the fact that I'm beyond happy about this event makes me realise how much I love that place. It's been nearly a year since I graduated (which was the last time I was in Plymouth) and I wait patiently for the day that I return and bask in the glory of the city once again.

University? Completed it mate
Plymouth was your typical uni city. The night outs were cheap, and you could always rely on the cheesy chips from Jakes to help those drunken cravings. Locals would speak in their strange but charming accents, greeting you with a warm smile and calling you 'my love' as you left Tesco with your meal deal in hand. As you walked back home, you knew which houses were full of students, with traffic cones littered everywhere and bottles lining the windowsills. Classy.

It was Christmas all year round!
Of course, the weather was slightly iffy at times. For one thing, it rained... a lot. It was biblical, to be more exact. Hell, I even saw Noah pass by a couple of times. Then, just like that, it would just stop. Plymouth would go through a drought and everyone would flock down to the Hoe and the Barbican, celebrating this respite from apocalyptic weather. How very British.

A wonderful sight
Yet my heart was not at the Hoe, or in Jakes- it was at Home Park. Plymouth Argyle, the pride of South West football, tested my resolve as both a football fan and as a human being. The highs of last minute winners against Portsmouth, the lows of missed out promotions; football is a strange game. But there I was in the Devonport End, surrounded by the Green Army faithfuls with their rough West Country accents and their hatred of Exeter; I was swept away. Whenever I put on my Argyle shirt, I fill with pride, and scream 'GREEN ARMY!' in a terrible West Country accent.

Allez Argyle
As a History student, it was hard not to be bombarded with the rich history of the city. From the triumphs of Sir Francis Drake to Nancy Astor's adventures in Parliament, there was no rest from hearing about these moments in history. Every city has its heroes, but when you're like me and have a love for maritime history, Plymouth gave me the chance to embrace my nerdiness. It was the perfect deal really.

Now I sit here, about 180 miles away in Surrey, typing away on my trusty laptop and getting emotional over a city that's probably closer to France than London. I would check but it's the last day of The Open and a diversion to Google Maps would delay my chance to watch the golf. Just take my word for it really. 😉

It is pretty common for students to fall in love with their adopted homes. Everyone has their reasons. The friends you make, architecture, local town heroes, even the odd restaurant can make you wish you could stay there forever. Some places have that though- when I went to Leeds I came across this place and honestly it's a treasure of the North.

The ultimate combination
For a city so far away to make me reminisce this much truly holds a special place in my heart. Plymouth could easily be described as a shit hole, but it's my shit hole. I shall return one day oh glorious city of Plymouth, and it will be beyond awesome.

Ben G xo 😁

P.S. Shout out to Alex Bensley, who shared my joy in Plymouth finally achieving the honour of having a Greggs.

Need I say more


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