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The first thing I’ve learned from writing 20 stories about Sheffield is just how huge it is!  I’ve taken fresh photos for the 20 stories and I’m amazed at how much of Sheffield has gone unrecorded!  There are many more stories.

You have not seen photos of the Town Hall or the City Hall, the Peace Gardens, the Winter Gardens, either Cathedral or loads more.  How many stories can you find in a city?  Is it possible there are an infinite number of stories?

I was walking down the hill from Park Hill flats yesterday (something else I haven’t photographed) and I passed a familiar corner.  Someone had posted a laminated letter for the public.  She is the owner of Garfield, a ginger cat, not noticeably overweight.  His favourite spot is on a small mound just beside one of the bridges onto the Park Square roundabout.  His owner puts food on there for him and clean water.  He has the option to sleep at home but he has cat things to do around his spot.  The problem is people think he’s a stray and take him to the vets and then his owner has to rescue him.

I’ve passed that place and noticed the cat and the food and drink.  Now I know his name, I’ll give him a nod when I pass.

A small story born of devotion and frustration. 

Cities are hugely complex but they offer a home for Garfield and other cats and animals and plants as well as people.  Stories stretch through time and space.  It’s the stories that make the city.  So, mention Oyl int Rowad to a Sheffielder and they’ll know what you mean even if they never experienced it in its glory days.   Mention Hendos and they’ll salivate!

These shared stories make the city as much as its buildings, eccentric road layout and grumbling citizens. 

But the city stories make it a city that goes unnoticed and untouched.  We don’t usually remember the city of stories is not the same as the city of wood and stone.  The stories take us beyond the wood and stone; they’re the part of the image of the city we carry around in our heads.

And yes everyone’s version of this city differs.  They overlap but the stories and images can never be the same.  How do I comprehend the city in the head of a friend who doesn’t know the difference between the Town Hall and the Anglican Cathedral?  But we can and do tell each other stories earthed in the same place.

When we tell stories about the place we inhabit or used to inhabit, we share a part of ourselves.  We’re grounded beings and when we look beyond our preoccupations we find we are a part of something much bigger.  Something that invites us to be a part of it, to live and move within it.

So, here’s my question, wherever you live.  Do you love the place you’re in?  Maybe you’ve lived in several places but the question stands although maybe your place encompasses all those places.  Your love for your place is only a stepping stone to something greater.  The discovery that your place loves you. 

This leads me to think there may be a book in this, not necessarily my stories but a collaboration between people who live in and love this place.  (Those who’ve loved a human being will know the beloved can be annoying and indeed has to be if their stories are going to be any good!)  This would sit awkwardly on any bookshop’s shelves – it’s not history or geography, not fiction or non-fiction, not prose or poetry.  But all those things.  It’ll be a book about a place but really about living there and meaning.  And when it’s finished and we’ve enjoyed it and say “That’s good!” we’ll reflect and say “But it’s still not Sheffield?”

PS  All my photos were taken on the day.  For this last one, I wanted a sample of Sheffield flora or fauna and so I settled for fungus!

This year's Writing Challenge, fueled by prompts, is about the City of Sheffield.  Be surprised by what's included and even more surprised by what's left out.  This is Post 21 and the last one!  Share your thoughts and your love for the City in the comments.  The first Post 0 is Context: Sheffield.  The last post 20 is The Fat Cat.