B is for Baltimore

I struggled to think of a city I had visited beginning with B. This was curious because I lived in Birmingham for the first seven years of my life and studied in Bristol. If I'm to be honest - and I try not to as a rule - I have probably blocked out the Birmingham connections. England's second city in the 1970s was a lot grimmer than it is now. I carry choice memories, though, such the concrete acres of the Bullring with the squat and blackened church of Saint Martin rising from the slabs. I have vivid memories too of a bomb scare in a department store and having to get out fast. There was nothing romantic in my childhood, just too much concrete, memories of long bus rides and the ever-present menace of the IRA.

Only later in my life after hearing terrible tales have I come to cherish my childhood. I cherish it for its uneventfulness. I have come to realize there are so many kids out there who would kill for uneventful, although killing has a habit of rendering a childhood suddenly eventful and not in a good way. Still, Birmingham has never felt like home. It's hard to pinpoint anywhere that has.

I realize my thoughts are far now from Baltimore. I've only been to the city once back in 2014. I was camping with my kid and she was keen to get out of the tent after the previous night's chili tasting. I always wanted to visit Baltimore because I wanted that ' big city' feel and that edginess. I also figured we could be original and post pics of the Inner Harbor on Instagram.

This was a perfect time with my kid before the big bad world, too much homework, iPhones, and teen friends kicked in.

We found pleasant streets in Baltimore and the excellent Walters Art Museum. We had successfully missed the Hope Diamond the previous day but found the famous Walters hermaphrodite first time. "Back of the that," I commented. I think my daughter was just a little confused.

Then driving west home we became lost in some not-so-pleasant streets. I can't recall seeing so many boarded-up, rotting blocks of homes and we were forced to visit Glasgow as a kid. I recall feeling that small nervous tic tic in my neck spreading north and south with every wrong turn east and west. These were the days before everyone used GPS.

We eventually got back to DC. Within 18 months many of the streets were drove down were on fire during the riots. Baltimore is not for the faint-hearted.