It was his one-hundredth-and-sixty-third time driving past the turn-off on the A46. The first time was weird.
It says Disney! he thought. Maybe there’s a Disneyland here too. That would be odd. It’s very grey here. But why else would it say Disney? It was a strange feeling. But best not to ask mum just now, she needs your help with the roundabouts.
“Take the second exit at this one, mum.”
“Yes, exactly, Huw. You really are an expert at reading these signs.”
Mum was hunched over the wheel, leaning forward towards the windscreen and an empty cup of hotel coffee. It was a strange car - it barely fit the suitcases, and apparently it wasn’t a car they could keep. It was a car that people who needed a car had to pay for, and then they had to give it back. This was a shame for Huw, because none of that was important. What was important was that it was the first time he got to sit in the front. His sister was asleep in the back with the suitcases. And so he had seen the sign quite clearly: Norton Disney, with an arrow pointing to the right. But that was not the exit they were taking. They were not going to Disneyland, not in this car. That would be strange.
Huw was a Disneyland connoisseur. He used to go a lot, when they lived in the place where his friends were. Sometimes he would go with his friends - a group of far-from-home seven-year-olds - and exchange faultless conversation with all of his favourite movie characters. The mothers would walk slowly behind, laughing to themselves over the children’s confidence, but keeping careful watch. His own mother watched especially carefully. There was something dangerous happening to her, in those final years. And so she watched carefully, like an owl that could sense the arrival of autumn.
The strange car with the suitcases and his sister in it drove past the sign and deeper into the greyness until they arrived at his new home. It was smaller, and colder, than what he was used to. There was no furniture in the only room and the walls were covered in strange black marks. Outside, the grass tugged at your shoes, and the stairs wobbled and made noises with each step.
“Welcome home, my darlings!” Mum said, with tears in her eyes, smiling.
There is definitely no Disneyland here, Huw thought.
But it was a sign he would see often enough. Not at first; at first, he just went to school, and came home with his sister. The road was a decent way away. But he found his way along it eventually. First, on the way to meet mum’s new friend at the station. Then, on random trips and school buses that were heading south. Norton Disney, he would think each time. How boring. Then he got a job which put the sign on his commute. And then his dad moved, and he would drive past on every visit. He was twenty-one by that point, so the feeling was dull, and more of an amusement for a restless mind than some childish hope for a theme park. He knew full well that it was just a village with two hundred people in it. But still, beneath his little smile, something twinged.
This was his one-hundred-sixty-third time driving past the signpost.
“Innit weird how that place is called Disney, for like, no reason?” his sister asked him.
“Innit,” he laughed, and took the second exit at the roundabout.
read the original story (BBC News):
The Lincolnshire village honoured in every Disney film since 2006 - BBC News
The views expressed in this publication do not reflect the views of the author. The stories themselves are based on imagined events. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is fictitious and should not be taken as representative.
Trigger came from nearby in Carlton-le-Moorland which is another weird name!
Never been to one of the places and no wish to go, reckon be over priced for my pocket anyway. But live and let live, let the folk go that want to. Be good if they put original name on material also. Should add that less than likely to go now with all the sex scandals coming out, not sure how they shall window dress/camouflage that!? Wonder if the village is a tourist trap now!?