Stevenage: A (Tiny) River Runs Through it.


If ever a river was mis-sold, it’s the Roaring Meg in Stevenage.

I just walked past it on my way to the retail park that has taken its name. They’re similarly uninspiring. The river is less of a roar and more of a dribble; cystitis sufferers produce greater flow. The retail park is soulless. What was once a thriving enterprise is nearly devoid of atmosphere, save an underlying essence of emptiness and despair. With a Toys R Us.

When it was first built I was excited. Back then, the thought of a bowling alley, an ice rink, a Harvester and a Blockbuster Video within a small surface area was enticing. I celebrated many birthdays on site. There was an indoor cricket pitch there for a while where I once had a joint party with a friend. Why someone with an almost pathological fear of sport would agree to such a venture is beyond me, but I did it.

Now, there’s very little at the Roaring Meg of note. The river would be a metaphor for the shopping centre’s failing, if it hadn’t been there first. What makes it worse is I’m about to go to DFS. This is what my life’s become. Still, at least the next few minutes will be comfy.

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