‘As gruesome as Mansfield’s death was, at least it was quick. Mansfield probably never felt what happened to her, and because of the dark she likely had an instant of “We’re going to crash!” shock to cope with before the impact.’
Jane Mansfield dies by night, next a Luisianna swamp 29th June, 1967
In 1816 Nottingham slipped into a deep depression in the hosiery industry fortunately offset by a rise of lace. Nottingham was so overcrowded ( the degredation and helpless misery of the poor stockingers wandering gaunt and hunger-stricken through the streets) workers moved beyond the town boundaries thus accounting for the wierd geography and strange hautiness of the the outer suburbs of Nottingham. Making the move the nostalgic workers glued to their heritage called their towns New This and New That like New Baseford, New Radford, New Lenton and New Sneignton linked by minor rivers and streams to wash and dye the cloth. The mind boggles also at how arsenic and chromium in the drinking water of these streams has led to the mentality of the local corner enders who rap in a series of incomprehensible cliches heavily influenced by The West Indies, Innit?
On reflection a picture reveals itself as The City of Nottingham slowly appearing as rotten , rotting, ashamed of it’s past and hiding and blocking off it’s history.
Mansfield is an isolated town further out in northern Nottinghamshire accessible from Nottingham by rail. One of the hosiery towns the houses were however smaller. Mansfield persons are articulate and ‘In Your Face’, a happy few away from Nottingham.
Cycle to the town centre a double twin Arndale thoroughfare set on an incline, but don’t be there on a Saturday night meant to be lawless.