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Congleton Grove

I just got in from a nice long walk, and need to record something. It's a beautiful day - the sort of day which makes me want to explore the city. I first headed down to Woolwich, taking in the rich, vibrant culture of it's famous high street. From there, I crossed the road to the old arsenal, the new Crossrail station there now nearing completion. Still in exploration mode, I went along the road a bit, towards Plumstead, following my nose and hoping to find my way back for a coffee in Charlton Park. But then, going along quite a leafy, suburban road, I came across a sign which made me do a double take, and then yelp with amusement. This sign, naming a short cul-de-sac, bears the name of the town where I grew up. I was amazed. Congleton is such an inconsequential little place I never thought anywhere would be named after it, but here was such a place, not far from where I now live. I was thrilled. I wonder how it got it's name. As silly as it may seem, I love such little coincidences: It's as if part of my past has suddenly, unexpectedly, cropped up in the present, a little reminder of where I came from.

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