I’m off to Brizzol in a couple of weeks.

I was born in Bristol and after a few years travelling with my Dad’s career in the RAF, returned there to go to school. As a youngster, I had a Bristolian accent, and my Mum, born and bred in Southmead, still has a faint twang.

My granddad worked for BAE at Filton, building Concorde, and my Nan worked as a domestic at Southmead Hospital. I lived in Avonmouth, Southmead and Lockleaze, none of which would have been called desirable neighbourhoods, but were home to me. Conversely, I attended Clifton College, a very posh public school in perhaps the most well-to-do part of the city.

Bristol has a long maritime past, including a close association with slavery. As a major port, migrants came in to Bristol, and migrants left Bristol for the New World (not always of their own volition).

I remember the 1970s and 1980s as contradictory. I would take the bus, or in tighter times walk from Lockleaze through Easton, Eastville and St Pauls to get to the city centre. These areas were predominantly Black and Asian communities. The St Pauls riot of 1980 began when the Police raided the Black and White Cafe on City road, confiscating unlicensed alcohol. This white boy never had any trouble, racist or otherwise, in these parts of town. At school, we were encouraged to develop Received Pronunciation and learn Latin in fine Victorian buildings. I had much more trouble there.

In the 2020s, Bristol had a “not white British” representation that was 22% of the total population. There are at least 45 religions,(45 religions? I can’t think of 45 religions!) at least 187 countries of birth (there 195 recognised countries in the world) and at least 91 main languages.

Poles and Spaniards are manifest, particularly in the hospitality sector.

There are now two excellent universities in the city and an absolutely fantastic nightlife. Restaurants offering all sorts of cuisine, pubs with every type of drink and grocery stores selling food from every corner of the world. It’s absolutely brilliant.

I travel down to Bristol the day before I’m working there. I check in to a city centre hotel during the afternoon then take a drive around some my favourite parts of town before parking up and heading out around town on foot. As it’s October, the weather is hit and miss, although to be honest, you are never very far from a rain shower in Bristol. I take plenty of photos, and usually settle with a pint, observing the city bustle around me.

In August, fifty people planned to march through the city to protest against the government scheme to use hotels to house asylum seekers. They were met by a counter demonstration of 250. That’s great. Peaceful protest and counter-protest. Democracy in action.

I’m looking forward to my annual trip, where I’ll wander around town wondering at the choice of food I have. I might even nip into the Arnolfini and watch a foreign film. I’m also going to try find out more about those 45 religions.

I love Bristol, and it is undoubtedly enriched by immigration. Just sayin'.

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