Derby FUCKING SUCKSSS!!!

Derby......The King of False Advertising

Well, yesterday I went to Derby to attend a talk on 'A Little Porn, A Little Torture.' I set off on the train feeling positive and organised. The sun was shining, I was getting on with my work, and I had a packed lunch complete with Dairy-Lea Dunkers. Yes, I know, I am that cute.

I got into Derby complete with directions on how to get to the University from Google Maps. Being as pre-emptive as possible I wrote down all the alternative routes, in case any led me down motorways with no pathways (I know what you're like Google Maps!!)

I'll admit I wasn't immediately impressed by the 'city' (I use the term loosely) but there were some quite cute red terraced houses opposite the railway in which my sister informs me someone her boyfriend knows lives. Small world. Anyway, I started walking along this road as I correctly assumed this would be railway terrace, being a terrace opposite the railway and all. I did not know at the time that my incredible deduction skills would come in handy for the task ahead.

First of all let me point out that in a small part of Derby there are maps EVERYwhere. There bloomin' well has to be as well because the road signs are so poorly displayed. Unfortunately as you head away from the 'city centre'( if you can call it that) these maps become non-existent, and the road signs no more prolific.

As I continued my walk, trying to feel as positive as possible, I couldn't help letting my spirits drop a little by the rundown buildings, numerous roadworks and scaffoldings, and drunk teenagers tripping over parked cars (this is 11am). What was supposed to be the city centre looked like a few shops scattered over the remnants of an industrial revolution that held no bearings of grandeur that, say, a city like Manchester has. And even though the sun was shining it felt oppressive, there was no air. Can I blame Derby for the atmosphere? All I can say is that I was in Sheffield less than an hour before and it had no such aura.

As I walked down Friar Gate which I found using the maps that had become more and more sporadic (and of course my extensive Google Maps notes) I found myself feeling more and more in despair as the buildings around declined from barely impressive rundown architecture to small houses that would not be out of place in the village of Herschell Gordon Lewis' 2000 Maniacs. I began to mistrust Google and myself. I was looking for Markeaton Road. ROAD. This is important.

At one point, I don't know what made me do this, I just turned right. Call it spiritual guidance, call it intuition, call it whatever you like but after 40minutes of frantic walking with a bag full of books on my back I found a sign saying 'Markeaton Road.' It was a fucking carpark. This apparently is a trend of Derby.

Now my directions said go down Markeaton Road. How can I go DOWN a fucking carpark? Which direction is down? I couldn't judge from the direction I had come in as I had no idea if I'd come off Friar Gate because there hadn't been a fucking sign in fucking AGES! I know some of you would like to blame Google maps here but I honestly think that it did the best it could with a place like Derby, the type of city that gives all cities a bad name. So I did what any normal person would do and marched towards the nearest most official looking building. In there I was informed that my destination, Kedleston Road, was a road. But it was also a building. And there was Old Kedleston road to boot. Which one was I after? All it said in the email was Kedleston Road.

My powers of deduction told me that a building did in fact make more sense than holding a talk in the middle of a road (although it wouldn't surprise me if in Derby this was usual practice) so I got given directions to that. Seemed simple. Through these doors, turn left down the road, right up the hill and you can't miss it.

Left down the road. It wasn't a fucking road it was a mud track. They really need to be told the definition of road in that place. I couldn't enjoy the greenery that surrounded me as it stank of dog shit. There were various path ways to the left and I just chose one. I was fast running out of time and if I went back to ask again I would be late to the talk so I took my chances and vowed that if I couldn't find it I would be heading back to somewhere civilised i.e. not Derby for a much needed drink. Allah himself would not have denied me at this point. Was there a hill to the right? Was there fuck. There was a motorway, and various signs saying Kedleston (just Kedleston, even though apparently there are a 1000 and one places with that name in Derby) all pointing in different directions. I could see a building amongst other buildings rising up in the distance and thought I would just head that way. I got to a sign that said University of Derby, Kedleston Road. Hallelujah. Was my quest over? Was it fuck.

Kedleston Road BUILDING is located on the top of a hill to allow for numerous car parks surrounding it. Staff car parks, student car parks, visitor car parks, authorised visitor car parks.... Firstly is it necessary to divide up the car parks in such a pedantic manner, and secondly why the fuck do they need so many fucking car parking spaces when no fucking idiot would dream of coming to this place? At this point I was just hoping I would get there in time to have a much need cig before going in. I began to predict I would get to the room and there would be a sign on it saying 'Cancelled,' and I thought no fucking surprise there, the speaker was from Sheffield and probably got off in Derby and thought fuck this I'm off for a pint. Don't blame her.

I finally conquered the hill of never-ending car parks and found myself in actually quite a nice area. Unfortunately I couldn't appreciate it due to my incredible anger at this point towards anything and everything that is Derby.

I had a cig and went in the building, which was more like a shopping mall, and enquired where I might find Room B302. I was asked, 'Are you sure you're in the right place? Because there is another Kedleston Building for Adult Education.' I told them I would take my chances and could they please direct me to the room, which unsurprisingly was a list of twists and turns of which any labyrinth would be proud. On my way to the room I passed a sign saying 'Student Well-Being Centre'. It crossed my mind to pop in and tell them that my being is not very well due to their shit city and complete incompetence when it comes to defining roads and naming buildings. I didn't. I went to my talk. It was quite good.

That's more like it.