Twenty Good Things About The ‘Ding

Over the August Bank Holiday in 2004, TLC and I packed up everything we’d somehow squeezed into a little end-terrace Victorian two-bed house in East London, and lit out for the sticks. The decision to move was partly to do with work—C’s job was relocating out of London and we needed to find a place within shooting distance of the Oxfordshire science zone near Harwell.

The main reason? We were done with the Big Smoke. Too crowded, too noisy, too dirty too—much. We needed a reset. It was time to go west, where the air is clean. We needed to breathe again.

So we looked at a map, drew some lines and circles, figured out the perfect midpoint between where C and I needed to be for work.

Slough.

We reconfigured.

A bit more research and we settled on a big town with a big heart twenty miles west of Betjemen’s bete noire, straddling a river and a canal. A couple of visits and one very fortuitous twist of real-estate fate led, six months after we started looking, to a bulging-at-the-seams Nissan Micra pulling away from Woodville Road in Walthamstow for the very last time, as R.E.M’s Leaving New York synchronistically rolled up on the car radio.

That was twenty years ago, and we’ve never looked back. Reading is our home now, in a way London somehow never was. We have built a life for ourselves here, and although it doesn’t have all the facilities that a big city can offer, Dingtown has a big double handful of gems which give it a bit of a hometown advantage. In honour of two decades in a town called Ding, here are twenty reasons we like it so much.

Dig in. Here we go.

The River

Let’s start with a little chat about geography. Reading is famously well-located for transport links, to the point where it’s mythologised by Aussie and Kiwi travellers as the one place you can get to everywhere from. This was the case well before the arrival of the internal combustion engine or even steam. Reading sits on the crossroads of the Kennet and Avon Canal and Old Father Thames, making it a lot more water-bound than casual observers realise. There’s a river festival every year, and of course the Oracle, Reading’s lovely shopping mall, sits astride it. I love being a short walk from a riverside amble, and honestly believe a cross-point like this gives the place a certain magical vibe. A character who’s appeared in a couple of my short stories, Redstone Ray, takes much of his power from his connection to the meeting point of two great river routes.

Reading Abbey/Gaol

Reading wears its history lightly. New developments are springing up all over the town as it leans into a reputation as a tech and transport hub. The rocket-sled chute of The Blade dominates the skyline, and the train station (of which more later) looks like a space port. The SF fan in me loves all that shit.

But Reading has a long and storied past, which it is finally starting to properly embrace. Although the efforts to retask Reading Gaol, Oscar Wilde’s place of confinement, as an arts centre break down as regularly as Elizabeth Line trains (even Banksy’s contribution couldn’t persuade the DoJ to sell it back to the community), the ruins of Reading Abbey next door should be part of any history buff’s visit. Consider: this was where the first pop song, Sumer is Ycomin In, was written. There’s a good chance that it is the burial site of Henry I, who ordered the Abbey’s construction as an attempt to do right by his God after all the evil he had wrought on earth. The restoration work on the site is sensitively done, letting you see the bones of the place while creating a space which offers a moment of timeless peace right in the heart of town. It has a very different feel to the grand Victorian formality of Forbury Gardens which abuts onto it, but the contrast is part of the charm. Even if you can see The Blade swooping up overhead.

The Reading BanksyReading Museum

Looking up is a sensible move if you want to get a sense of Dingtown’s past. Cast your eyes above awning level on Queen Victoria Street and you’ll get an eyeful of the Victorian red-brick frontages which so defined the look of the place in the 19th century. The best example of this architectural style is on Blagrave Street. Reading Town Hall is a imposing sight, a grand confection of spires, arches and intricate mouldings, glowing in shades of copper and dove-grey. It’s glorious at sunset.

The Town Hall is home to Reading Museum, which has a truly eclectic collection of exhibits. There’s something for every taste, from a full-sized replica of the Bayeaux tapestry to a collection of biscuity ephemera from the time when Huntley and Palmer made Reading their home. It’s a slightly surreal delight, with new wonders around every corner of the tightly packed floor plan. It’s well worth checking the smaller galleries for contemporary exhibits or clever re-hangs of works from the extensive archive. Look, Reading has been around since the 8th century as a Saxon settlement. There’s a lot to see.

The MERL

Reading punches above its weight in the great tournament of odd little museums, but the champ has to be the Museum of English Rural life. If you want to see a huge collection of hay wagons laid out in proud order like the sportscars in Tony Stark’s garage, this is the place. If you want to admire vintage tractors and get a whiff of the social history of cheese, look no further. And yes, MERL’s social media chap created the ‘absolute unit’ meme, beloved by millions. One of the only good things Elon Musk ever did was to retweet it.

The Food Scene

There’s a case to be made that Glen Dinning gave Reading the street food scene it needed. The twice-weekly gathering of food trucks he organised at Market Place brought some much-needed lunch options to hungry workers, but the launch of Blue Collar Corner in 2022 has put a party in the middle of town every weekend. Reading is now a regular base for the British Street Food Awards, and vendors like Fink Street and Sarv’s Slice have used the exposure to bounce onto a brighter future. And this is before we look at the regular events in Forbury Gardens like Cheesefeast, Meatfest and the lockdown feast Glen and his team put on in the car park at the Rivermead,

Eurovision at CheeseFeast featuring Reading’s own DAP King, Damian A. Passmore.

There’s more to dinner than street food, of course. I’m intrigued but delighted to note to how Dingtown has become the base of so many cool smaller restaurant brands like ZeroDegrees and Honest Burger (both personal favourites) and a launchpad for big overseas franchises like Wingstop, Popeyes and the triumphant return of Wendy’s. We don’t talk about Chick-Fil-A. I would be beaten around the head and shoulders by some members of The Readership if I didn’t raise a flag for Kung Fu Kitchen, now expanding into a second location a good fifty yards from the first. The Reading institution that is Sweeney & Todd has been cranking out proper pies to the masses for, oh Lordy, decades. And it would be remiss of me not to mention the two powerhouses fuelling Coffee Corner – Picnic and Munchees. Top-notch designer salads or the cheapest full English in town, fifty yards from each other. It’s a little slice of paradise, I tell ya.

I know I’m missing lots of places—shout them out in the comments.

Shed/Milk

The best/worst kept foodie secret in Reading is tucked away down Merchant’s Place, an unassuming alleyway off Friar Street. It is a place of two halves, both delightful, housed in a rickety old barn which seems a little out of place amidst the 80s architectural brutalism it neighbours. Shed is a breakfast and lunch place par excellence—it does nothing complicated or over-fancy, but everything it serves is executed to perfection. Their use of beautiful sourdough elevates the sandwich offerings. The breakfast bacon sarnie is stuffed with a dense layer of streaky, cooked to just the right level of chewy crispiness. For lunch, you’d mug yourself off if you didn’t have a Tuna Turner. I’m a stern critic of the tuna melts you get in most joints. I have no notes on the TT. It’s bang on—melty, gooey, savoury, entirely satisfying.

You know you want it.

As the sun goes down the upstairs seating area becomes Milk, in my opinion Reading’s best cocktail bar. It’s firmly rum-centric, with which I have no problem as their Kingston Negronis are on point. Regular DJ sets, distillery takeovers and an overall mellow groove of an atmosphere make it a place where the edge can well and truly be scrubbed off. Truly, the place is a night-time Reading highlight.

Clay’s

But if you really want the peak of what our town has to offer for food and drink, all you need is Clay’s. Originally a tiny ten-table place on London Street serving authentic, inventive Indian food, the relaunch a couple of years back into the big cheerful space they now occupy over the bridge in Caversham was fraught, drawn-out but ultimately a major victory. The grub, atmosphere and welcome are a delight—you will leave feeling soul-nurtured, glowing and very, very full. Nods from national food critics Jay Rayner, Grace Dent and Tom Parker-Bowles put the place on the map, and I hope and pray the attention keeps Clay’s running for a very long time. I like it so much my name (along with plenty of other Kickstarter patrons) is on the wall. Nandana and Sharat have brought us a very special place, which we should treasure, nurture and support.

Reciepts. Not often I share a wall with a former mayor of Reading…Caversham

I should mention our home territory, the part of Dingtown where TLC and I settled. A lot of Redigensians will roll their eyes at the very mention of the settlement on the north side of the Thames. Not really Reading. Too posh for their own good. And well, yes, OK, there are points to be made—Caversham was part of the Henley district of Oxfordshire until 1911. The county line is a 60 second drive from our front door. And yes, there is a lot of money in the area, especially when you head up the hill to the soaring views of Caversham Heights.

You could point the accusation of monied bubble equally at the University district, and not-really-Reading is a bit gatekeepery, don’t you think? Instead of griping, I choose to cheer the benefits Cav brings to the table. There’s Clay’s, of course, and nearly opposite, Papa Gee’s, Reading’s best pizza place. Two brilliant pubs, The Fox and Hounds and The Last Crumb (the latter another example of Reading’s attraction for small chain eateries). There’s a small but nicely-curated farmer’s market every Sunday. A yearly arts trail. Indie coffee places? We got ‘em. The Collective and GeoCafe (who also moonlight as one of Dingtown’s best bakeries)—I was sorry to see the passing of The Flowers Of Caversham, but I guess if your floor caves in on you it’s a bit tricky to keep doling out the lattes. Alto Lounge, the prime spot for Sunday brunch!

Culturally, Caversham is home to Rabble Theatre (of which more later) and Two Rivers Press (of which more later), as well as FourBears, a vibrant, welcoming book shop. History? Caversham was mentioned in the Domesday Book. St. Anne’s Well is the site of a shrine which was founded in the tenth century. Caversham Court, on the Thames just west of Caversham Bridge, was home to William Marshall, England’s Greatest Knight and regent during Henry III’s minority. If you want greenery, head to Clayfield Copse, Bugs Bottom or up to Balmore Walk, for views over the whole area—and oh look, there’s The Blade. I said it dominated the skyline.

I could go on. But honestly, when we decided to move to Reading, we came at it with the open mind which comes with complete ignorance. We knew nothing. But, over the weekends we spent here, a spiral path gradually drew us towards our current location, out from the centre of Reading to the house which, as soon as we walked into it, was clearly destined to be our home. Caversham is very cool. It suits us. It has an unfussy, relaxed and welcoming feel. I really don’t get the spite. Perhaps it’s jealousy. Don’t believe the haters.

The Theatre Scene

Let’s talk a bit more about theatre. Reading has a nicely eclectic range of theatre companies and venues offering a bit of what you fancy, as long as what you fancy is live spoken word entertainment. I’ve already mentioned Rabble, but banners high please for Progress and Reading Rep, both within easy walking distance of each other. They also take their shows outside the theatre space—Rabble have put on shows in the grounds of Reading Abbey for the last couple of years, and Progress regularly stage open-air performances at Caversham Court.

Rabble at Reading Abbey for their presentation of Henry I.

South Street and the Rising Sun Arts Centre have a solid rep for smaller-scale productions alongside comedy and music. The Hexagon is, of course, the biggest (and some would say ugliest, although I dig that crazy 80s brutalist vibe) live venue in town, although the focus on cover bands and Strictly alumni speak to a slightly unadventurous booking strategy. Again, it’s great for comedy though and most of the big names stop off here—we’ve seen Jon Richardson, The Horne Section and Bill Bailey. It’ll be interesting to see what acts are lured to the new Studio when it opens in the next couple of years. We should not sniff at the dinner theatre offerings over in Sonning at The Mill, either. OK, the repertoire of classic Noel Coward, farces and the occasional musical might not be cutting edge, but it has a cosy charm—and the venue is lovely.

The Festival

The music scene in Reading is a little less vibrant than I’d like. Howevs, both Sub89 and the Purple Turtle have hosted some memorable nights for me—Wolf Alice, PiL, Ride and the astonishing, mind-blasting Swans. It’s sinful that I’ve yet to make it out to The Face Bar for a Club Velocity night, and I offer no apologies but my own laziness.

For most people, though, Reading is about the August Bank Holiday gathering on Richfield Avenue, going on this very weekend. It’s a rare privilege to be within walking distance of a world-class music festival, and a treat to be able to enjoy a weekend of musical madness with the benefit of a hot shower and your own bed at the end of it. I’ve let my attendance slide over the past few years, as the lineup has skewed to cater towards the tastes of the post-exam kids who use Reading and Leeds as a last-chance blowout before college and uni. It has not been the Reading Rock Festival for a very long time. I’ve seen some amazing bands there though, and cherished the opportunity of Access All Areas passes in 2012. The best bit of that year? Clean and quiet toilets.

The Other Festivals

Why settle for the one festival, though? I grumble mildly about Reading’s live music scene, but disingenuously—there’s plenty of local bands who would cheerfully grab the chance to play to the whole town. Are You Listening? is a great way to roll a pub crawl and a one-day fest into one dizzy-making Saturday. I’m sorry to see Down At The Abbey, which makes brilliant use of the Reading Abbey ruins, has had to cancel this year—hopefully back, loud and proud in ‘25! Here Comes The Sun is a cheerfully wonky and artsy day at The Rising Sun (not to be confused with the recently re-opened Rising Sun pub just off St. Mary’s Butts or indeed the in-progress refurb of the Rising Sun near the station). And I would not be a proud Caverite without cheering the virtues of Readipop, a regular fixture in July across Christchurch Meadows. A crowd-pleasing mix of 90s dance and indie stalwarts (Ash! Sleeper! Echobelly! Fabio & Grooverider!) mixes deliciously with local talent to make for a jolly fine weekend.

Readipop. Yes, that is a giant mechanical dinosaur.The Brewing Scene

At all the local festivals, you’ll find an offering or two from one of our local breweries. Hear the screams of over-stretched narrative tyres under stress as I execute a topical hand-brake turn? Let’s talk about Reading’s brilliant beer scene, which over the past twenty years has blasted away from the lights like a boy racer in a tricked-out 205 and yes I think I’ve overdone the car metaphors. Less driving, more drinking.

Where do we start? Well, Tilehurst’s finest, Double-Barrelled, are everywhere, from the ten lines at Blue Collar Corner to almost every pub in Reading worthy of the name. How can you not love a perky lager named Ding? It is a sadness (of which more later) that it’s not offered as the official lager of Reading FC. I advocate their IPA, Parka, a golden, citrussy delight.

Alongside Ding you’ll probably find something from Loddon, just up the road from me in Dunstan Green. I love this brewery. The beer is uniformally great (especially for my old-geezer tastes—look, I like a brown beer, ok?) but Loddon have really pushed forward since Covid. There’s a fantastic tap yard, a perky lil farm shop, a food partnership with Proper Kitchen and yes, even their own one-day music festival. Loddon are doing it right.

If you want to stay central, Phantom offer a similar vibe in their huge warehouse space near the station. They’ve partnered with 7Bone Burgers for grub, and the beer and vibes are all on point (am I saying that right?). Then there’s the good folk at Dolphin with their wildly experimental sours, and I would be failing in my duty if I didn’t shout about the beer coming out of ZeroDegrees. It’s not just a pizza place! Try the black IPA if it’s on and tell me I’m lying.

And right, I’m claiming Siren as a Reading brewery. OK, technically they’re based in Finchamstead, but the sexy new tap house and restaurant on Friar Street is an instant hit with all who’ve stepped in. You can find a Siren beer in most Reading pubs. If they have Soundwave on draught—fill yer boots.

I should also flag the pubs who are true brew heroes in Dingtown. I’ve already blown trumpets about The Fox And Hounds who do regular collabs with cool producers. Get thee to The Alehouse (especially if you can snag a snug, it’s the most hobbity pub in Reading and a perfect place for conspiracising) or The Nag’s Head off the Oxford Road, where a lost weekend is ready and waiting. Check the boards for what’s on and what’s coming, and settle in. Grab a book or a board game. You’ll be there for a while.

Don’t mind if I do.Two Rivers Press

I find it enormously cool that Reading has a dedicated art and poetry publisher, quietly pushing out beautifully designed volumes to local outlets like Reading Museum and FourBears in Caversham (if you must, I suppose you could order directly from them online). Part of Reading’s arts scene since 1994, Two Rivers are discerningly eclectic. It is an ambition of mine to have a book published by them.

Reading Writers

One of Two Rivers’ standout authors is Claire Dyer, whose poetry is personal, emotional and beautiful. She was the chair of local writers group Reading Writers when, after two years of trying, I was finally allowed to join. Reading Writers has been around since the 1940s in one form or another, and we’re still active, still open to new members and still supporting writers however they choose to express themselves. Local authors like Claire, Julie Cohen, Vera Morris, Julie Roberts, Becci Fearnley and John Froy have all spent time in Meeting Room 3 at the RISC every second and fourth Wednesday of the month. RW is a big part of my life. I have made close and enduring friendships thanks to it. As Comms and Membership Secretary, I’m happy to confirm you won’t have to wait as long as I did if you fancy trying us out. Other writing groups are available, but in my humble and completely unbiased opinion, we are the best. Thank you for having the faith in me to let me join, Claire. I’ll always be grateful.

Reading Biscuit Factory

Look, I’m not going to pretend I’m any kind of prime mover in Reading’s cultural and food scene, despite my Reading Writers committee seat and name on the wall at Clay’s. But if you factor in my founder membership at Reading’s finest independent cinema and bar, the Biscuit Factory, then you have to admit I’m not just sitting on my hands when it comes to getting involved in my home town. RBF is another sweet spot I’m proud to support. Three comfortable screens show everything from the latest blockbusters to cult and art house classics, while the big bright bar area hosts drag bingo, quiz nights, Heavy Pop music events and much, much more. Gamers regularly congregate for board game evenings, a local knitting circle hold weekly gatherings—look, it’s just a really nice central location to meet up and chill out. Whether you start, end or base your evening there, you’re onto a winner. Take a founder’s word for it.

Reading FC

I’ve told you over and over again that football is not my thing—the ugly tribal aspect, the weird mix of boredom, misery and masochism which seem to be a major part of the whole experience. However, I do like a bit of drama, which is something the Royals provide in spades. Our team are a rollercoaster ride of emotion, with massive highs (the two seasons in the Premiere League following the still unmatched 106 season) and crashing lows (the 2022 slump out of the Championship as it became clear just how badly owner Dai Yongge had screwed over the club). With a new ownership round the corner, a young and vibrant first team and a manager who actually seems to give a fuck, matters could be about to turn. But that’s the whole reason I follow them. You just never know what’s going to happen next.

The whole town thing

One source of frustration for Reading Council is they don’t run a city. We have been passed over for the nod many, many times. The conspiracy theory that Queen Victoria’s statue in Market Place faces angrily away from the town is seen as evidence that we will never get royal assent. It doesn’t bother me a bit. I like how we can call ourselves the biggest town in the country. It feeds into our spirit, our character, the quirky independent vibe which might not be so visible on Broad Street on a Saturday night but is thrumming through the streets like wild electricity once you get to know the place a little. We should make more of a virtue of our status as England’s Crazytown. Come, my lady.

Red brick, blue sky.John Lewis

There is a local writer of whom I shall not speak, whose spectre looms over this piece by dint of its baggy, over-written nature. He too once wrote on the things he liked about Reading, and on one element I begrudgingly, tooth-grindingly have to agree. The John Lewis standing proudly at the junction of Broad and Queen Vic Street is a jewel in Reading’s crown. It adds a certain cachet. The building itself is part of Reading history—once the department store Heelas, whose name is still carved deeply into the brick of the back entrance. John Lewis stands as a kind of litmus test of the health of our town. As long as it still stands open, we must be doing alright. There’s a reason I chose to make my character Redstone Ray’s home up in the roof space. He, and the store, are guardians of Reading.

Reading Buses

We’ll finish, almost, as we started—back with transport. Reading is not a great town to drive in (the execrable IDR is one thing I hate about our town) and frankly scary to cycle through. But the buses are great. Clean, modern, easily trackable using the excellent app, regular and efficient. Why? Well, Reading Buses is not run privately—it’s a council concern. As such, oversight is strong and profits are plowed back into the business. It’s an exemplar of how public transport services should be run and other, bigger cities, notably Andy Burnham’s Greater Manchester, have taken notice. We even have an iconic route in the Purple Chariot, the number 17. Best buses in the country? I don’t think there’s an argument against.

Home

Thank you for sticking with me, this is the last bit. I would say we’re almost home, but the fact is I am home. This town, you people, the green spaces, the red stone, the punchy, artsy, quirky vibe of the crossing on two rivers has comforted and welcomed Clare and I since we parked our overloaded Micra on the drive at All Hallows Road for the first time, twenty years ago this weekend. So much has changed since then, but the important things remain, shining and warm. Reading is our home. Frankly, I can’t see that ever changing.

One last point. This is not an encyclopaedic guide to Reading. It was never supposed to be. We are a pretty lazy pair, and rarely head east of Castle Street. So I’m fully aware I’ve missed out a lot. Let me know about the bits of Reading you love, and we’ll be sure to make them a part of our next twenty years, living and thriving in the town we call both Ding and home.