Celebrating Reading’s startling mediocrity

It’s quite close to London

Ahhh, Reading, my hometown and hometown to many more before and after me. Your quirky and delightful ways are what most crave in terms of home comforts. The leafy Berkshire lawns, to the awful roundabout in B&Q which is impossible to get out of on a Sunday afternoon. You literally couldn’t get any more normal, so thanks, ma and da for giving me a more normal place to be brought up.

Oh Reading, where’s that roughly?

Alright, mate, I get it, I’m not from a cool place like Manchester or Leeds but at least I can say I’m a commutable distance from London? Yeah, I know it’s odd that apparently the town’s biggest “USP” is that it’s a 40-minute journey into central London. Whilst most places at least have one good thing within the town (Lincoln has a hill which is quite steep called Steep Hill), Reading for some reason can only continue to boast how well connected its travel routes are. My GCSE geography was practically based on the M4 corridor. At least the county itself is also home to Windsor Castle and Kate, of Wills and Kate. Although Ricky Gervais from here so I’m not sure I’m winning the glamour battle.

The nightlife

Reading nightlife is one of a kind and I would 10/10 recommend. Q club may be one of the most depressing places I’ve ever been and if you try to think of a worse club you will fail. Yet the Purple Turtle will remedy this. A one of a kind bar which has a shisha garden, dancefloor and dungeon room to name a few. The music is always banging and the price exchange is always good fun if you’re eyeing up a bargain.




Alright, I lied. Reading is famous for one thing. Fest. Reading Festival is one of the best festivals in Britain if not the world. That’s not even bias, I mean why would Nirvana, Green Day, Eminem, Arctic Monkeys, and the Red Hot Chilli Peppers come to the little town for a weekend in the rain. If you’re from Reading, fest is a coming of age ceremony if you will. Every year a new group of 16-year-olds will descend on those fields to neck some Strongbow and honestly have an awesome time. This repeats every year until you get a mortgage. Not sure why, just does. Btw, we don’t get free tickets, for the millionth time.


Growing up in Reading meant that essentially you didn’t have much to do. Either go to the park or go to town. But as a 15-year-old you went to town on the bus and got an overpriced Shakeaway. Every town trip always included a trip to HMV to never once buy a thing. “Where shall we meet?” “HMV.” To this day pensioners still say the same thing, and can be frequenting the aisles of His Master’s Voice looking for Stormzy and Sub Focus albums.

In the Ding we blend our drinks

In the Ding we blend our drinks

The Mad Stad

The Madejski stadium is probably Reading’s greatest landmark aside from the Forbury lion (great pokestop btw). The 24,161 seater fortress is home to the mighty Royals (Reading FC) and London Irish RFC. There, many teams have come and played out 1-1 draws in front of a 2/3 full stadium. Strangely, everyone in Reading is a Reading fan. But in the way that they hope Reading wins whilst wearing their Man U top or checking the latest on Arsenal’s usual injury crisis. URZZZZZZZ.

Come on you Royals

Come on you Royals

If you hadn’t already figured it out, Reading is rather normal. Full of normal people and normal jobs. I mean only the crazy ones out there move as far as Surrey, God forbid. (Although, it is the biggest town in the country and it is ridiculous it’s not a city. Maybe next time the builders are in they can do a cheeky Cathedral for us?) Anyways, I’m off, got to catch that train to London… but not before I get a coffee from one of the 10 coffee shops within a hundred metres of each other. Safe innit.