For those of you with a strong interest in stalking me, I'm now living in Caversham in Reading. Yeah, I'm lowering the tone and sicking in hedges of one of the poshest parts of town. And what hedges.I'm not saying I've moved into a posh neighbourhood, but after a particularly eventful council meeting, they passed a by-law that does away with all the local tramps. Instead, we have "Persons of reduced means supporting the cider industry", and there is a proper tramping rota organised by a fearsome ladty from the Womens Institute. Even the binmen round here have servants for all the heavy lifting.
And if you want to go shopping - beware: Our branch of Waitrose has a fantastically strict dress code. Turn up in Homme at Matalan, and you'll be sneered at and shown the door. Then, the pavement. Somebody once turned up there for a pint of milk one afternoon in pyjamas and dressing gown. He's still there, withering in a cage above the door, pour encourager les autres. Yes, we have got a branch of Iceland, but anyone seen going in there is handed free blankets laced with smallpox.
And there's more: The doner kebab van has a swan going round on a spit, and whenever I go out on the balcony for a stretch first thing in the morning, a huge crowd cheers and waves Union flags. It's a tough life here, I'm telling you.
But then, I'm used to living in the face of adversity. I lived in the West Country for nine years. They make you take rigorous Cider Exams before you're allowed to move in. It's all a bit hazy, but I think I passed.
In other news: I'm suing the Dalai Lama. His "Not Daily, Not a Llama" tagline's just taking it too far.
Lama! I'll see you in court.
10 comments:
dammit it duck, I was planning on using your garden during the olympic sailing. Without, of course, telling you.
Al: I still have the place in Weymouth. Like they say on Facebook: It's Complicated.
It's a huge place when it even has its own Wikipedia article; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caversham,_Berkshire
Do you live here? That's an awful lot of bins for Berkshire..: http://tinyurl.com/6f5nfcg
I dunno. What are we supposed to feel?
I've pissed in the old Caversham Victorian public toilet block. It's not in Caversham anymore - it was deemed of such architectural importance that it was moved tile by tile, yellow rivulet by yellow rivulet, to the Chiltern Open Air Museum, oft temporary home to a certain young lady of Viking/Saxon persuasion.
I must say, it's a heck of a nice bogs. I guess they didn't need it anymore after they did away with the tramps.
I'm off to take my cider exams!
I lived in Caversham (South Street) when I worked at Thames Valley Park -- I'm afraid there's only the merest smidgeon of satire in this post :O.
"Persons of reduced means supporting the cider industry"
They make you take rigorous Cider Exams before you're allowed to move in. It's all a bit hazy, but I think I passed.
Does this mean you have a new job as well?
Never mind the up-market hedges to be sick in, have you got a shed to shit in?
Donna: YES. And I forgot the WD-40 for the dodgy lock *again*
Ian Mikardo Way??
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