Have You Seen The Devil? He’s Definitely in St Jude’s Somewhere

It’s Never Boring in St Jude’s Bristol:

There’s never been a finer time to live in St Jude’s. Never a dull moment and always an incident to raise a smile or make you run.

Last week, we spent several days in London, a place that was positively dull in comparison to Wade Street. We were back just hours when our reverie was interrupted at precisely 4:07am by a mugger who had probably accidentally targeted a drug dealer. How could I know this? Because the verbal exchange and altercation was incredibly loud, featured many words of negativity and took place just outside of our window.

The difficulty with this situation was that although awake, I could no longer shut the window to drown out the row because I would be seen. This meant that I was a witness, which could result in me having to escape to a barn in the Amish community, much like a Harrison Ford movie.

Luckily, a resolution was reached between mugger and drug dealer involving drugs and the window could finally be closed without fear of becoming embroiled in a movie with a 92 per cent rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

But there it was, the St Jude’s welcome home, and just 12 hours later we were once again off for the weekend.

Escaping the area is not a luxury, it is a necessity. St Jude’s operates like the start and end of a street carnival when everyone’s both excited, but angry and also off their face on drugs or White Lightening. It also simultaneously has the feel of the fairground at the Bristol International Balloon Fiesta, which has a Bad Vibe and edgy danger lurking amongst the discarded chip wrappers and empty whipped cream cartridges. And it’s like that 24 hours a day. It’s exhausting and you often need a break away from home. Even work becomes a holiday away.

Earlier today there was a man just outside my window – it clearly attracts them – asking people for The Devil. Whilst I’m not sure if this is the name of a drug or perhaps the man’s name was Faust, he wasn’t successful in his hunt. “He’s not over here,” he called to his compatriot.

I beg to differ. The Devil is definitely in St Jude’s. Where else would a fallen angel go other than a place named after the patron saint of lost causes.

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