The (World's) End of The Pier...

In centuries past, people believed the Earth was flat, which encouraged some hardy souls to travel the seven seas, hoping to find the edge of the world.

And although the Flat Earth Society still prospers, it is generally accepted the Earth is round.

However, I have been to the edge of the world -- and it is in Southport.

Now I should point out this is not a statement of criticism about Southport; I have a lot of affection for this North-West England town and still visit it often but it remains the case that this is the place where the Earth seems to, well, run out of earth.

Let me clarify; most of the action in Southport focuses around the central blocks of its ornate Victorian shopping parade on Lord Street.

But occasionally, I take a walk along the full length of Lord Street which I suppose makes me quite adventurous as retail shoppers in Southport go.

As you progress further towards the north end of Lord Street the shops start to thin out, there are less people around and already you get a sense you are leaving civilization behind.

And suddenly you're upon it. The end of Lord Street, the last of the shops and a roundabout straight ahead.

This, readers, is where the world stops.

Or if I stop being so fanciful for a moment, this is where it feels like the world stops.

Aside from the evidence of my own eyes, it stands to reason that the world carries on beyond the roundabout.

And I have no doubt there is much to commend that part of Southport beyond the roundabout but it all stops there for me.

What I'm trying to get at is that strange feeling - and I'm sure you've all felt it somewhere at some time - when you find yourself in a thriving busy urban area and then suddenly it's gone, finding yourself surrounded by houses, wasteland or worse.

The change in scenery and atmosphere is so sudden, you feel disorientated and dislocated.

Like you've gone on further than you were supposed to, and you've ended up in some strange void.

The fun, excitement and optimism you felt moments before has given way to a disconcerting melancholy.

Maybe it's a metaphor for life; all that excitement in the early part of life left behind for quiet surburbia; youth replaced by age then death.

And maybe that's why I refuse to venture past the roundabout at the end of Lord Street. I refuse to step off the world, and instead choose to go back the way I came, back to the bright, bustling centre.

But then, my car is parked up that end...