I had recently moved to Hoxne about a month ago and was living above a small tea room. I was quite amazed by how I had noticed the many gatherings in such a short time.
I had managed to get a job working for the local newspaper. I wasn't a hot shot journalist, I was the one who advertised the local events in the area.
I really wanted to find an event I could go to, to meet some new people in the village but unfortunatly I didn't think that the pie and peas, pastel watercolours, clay pigeon shooting or ancient bark rubbing classes were for me?
It was around 7:00pm on a Thursday evening and I decided to go for a stroll through the village as there were many areas that I hadn't visited and the evening was so warm and I loved the smell of flowers. I decided I would go and have a look at the very old church which although looked very beautiful also had an eerie look about it. I often used to visit the church in my hometown and walk around looking at the grave stones, sad I know, but for some strange reason I always felt relaxed.
I was leaving the village centre to enter some side streets which led upto the church. I had noticed that the streets in this place were very clean and tidy. Public benches were dotted on the pavements which made me feel as though the majority of the population of the village must be elderly.
I noticed ahead a group of kids loitering around a picturesque bridge and thought how nice it was for them to take an interest in the village. They were pointing into the water and kept running from one side to the other and laughing.
"must be playing Pooh Sticks" I chuckled to myself.
It wasn't until I got closer i realised these weren't any other normal kids and they certainly weren't playing pooh sticks.
"Ere Missus. Lend us a fag"
Yes you guessed they were Chavs.
I cringed as the voice went straight through me. Can't these people be escaped from?
"I don't smoke" I snapped as I quickened my pace past them.
Sighing relief as I left the local hang out point for Chavs I realised I was standing across the road from the church. I stood still for a moment to admire the building and to shiver at the eerieness of the place.
I ventured up into the grave yard which again was eerie but again so beautiful. The aroma from the flowers made me warm inside and I smiled to think that the people in this village respected the dead by making their final resting place so clean, tidy and beautiful.
I walked among the headstones and browsed at the really old ones feeling relaxed and calm, glad that I had lost the chavs and glad that I had decided to have this little stroll.
I heard voices behind me so I turned around to greet the people who had also came to pay their respects.
Dressed in black baggy pants, black pvc jackets, black platform knee high boots, multicoloured hair and as many piercings as one could possible have in there face, I was greeted by corn-starched faces, eyelashes that reached past their eyebrows, eyes that had been surrounded by far too much black eye liner and blood red lips - Goths