I live in the most boring and featureless place in the UK. A desolate dormitory enclave for aging commuters and inbred Tories in the flattest, most featureless and inbred corner of Lancashire. It’s called Mawdesley, and everyone that lives in Mawdesley also has the surname Mawdesley.
The inbred snobs who managed to find and live in this inbred rural prison think it’s “stunning and beautful”. How some flat, desolate drained bog land stinking of rotten cabbage and some tacky nouveau riche mansions and 1960’s retirement bungalows strewn along some potholed back roads in the arse end of nowhere is “beautiful” has always been beyond me.
The local mountain biking is non existent. You’d have better areas to ride in the centre of a city. It’s about 15 miles to escape this hell hole to reach the nearest hills and semi-decent cycling.
There’s no public transport, no amenities, no pavements just one tiny expensive shop that’s closed most of the time and one grotty pub for the aging inbreds. That’s your lot.
The only people you will see are aging snobs scowling at you from behind the wheel of a Range Rover. House prices are at levels only matched in Surrey and London. It’d take a special breed of person to actively choose to live in Mawdesley – essentially a rich, old, anti-social person who hated life and any form of enjoyment and wanted to live life in sensory deprivation in a ostentatious mansion on a stinking cabbage field in the arse end of nowhere.
The sad thing is that many late middle aged management types think Mawdesley is something special and “they have made it” by living in a tiny obscure, lifeless dormitory enclave in the middle of nowhere. Not surprising as Mawdesley attracts people with no taste or humanity.