****** towns have one definitive feature: The town character. The trampy/pervy/scary or just plain weird person whom everyone in the town knows, by sight if not by name.
Bonnyrigg has TWO of these. A 50-something year old man with the mental age of around 10 called Jimmy whom everyone in Bonnyrigg knows works at the local Presto/Co-op/Spar/whatever the hell it is these days. Also, the unfortunate and scary-to-children man with the greasy comb-over and large growths on his blotchy face.
A couple of years ago there was a lot of trouble with teenagers in Bonnyrigg.
They were ******* around outside of shops, throwing eggs at passersby, setting off fireworks into the street and towards cars. A group of teens also launched an unprovoked assault on the minister.
I worked in Spar at the time and while I didn’t like the thought of being egged or worse, I have to admit that some of the kids who came into the shops in their groups were quite funny. (Having lived in bonnyrigg for 18 years, I obviously have an ingrained degree of chavness).
Bonnyrigg was actually not THAT bad to grow up in, but it’s still best avoided. Go into the many pubs and you will find the same brand of people in every establishment. To name the ones I can remember (and if I knew them all, I would name them all), in the Chase and it’s attached ‘trendy’ bar, The Calderwood, The Anvil, The Royal Oak, The Staiside (Oh my God: The Staiside), The Waverley Hotel, The Roses Club, you will find them: the small-town-minded, suspicious, borderline violent and undoubtedly ****** people of Bonnyrigg.
