The Local

By 'my local' I refer to it being the closed licensed premises to my house. If I were to use the strictest definition of the word 'local' then this lovely corrugated tin shack counts. If I were to call it my local as in 'the place I can walk into on my own and still have people to have a beer with and chew over some fat' then this place doesn't qualify. Why? Because I wouldn't set foot in there for all the cocaine in Columbia (disclaimer: I don't actually use that, its a metaphor). This building is frequented by most the people on my isolated little estate, and those are not people I wanna chat to. My ex popped there for a drink once and the first guy she spoke to popped his glass eye out on the bar as his little 'turn'.

I live on an old RAF base about ten miles out of Lincoln, and it's a strange little community. I bought the house there 5 years ago with my ex for £82,500 which isn't bad considering I have 4 bedrooms, downstairs utility, big back garden and drive at the front. When me and her split I bought her out for £97,500. It's now worth £90,000 so I'm going nowhere for a while.

I''m brimming with blip ideas at the minute and shockingly they don't all revolve around miserable B&W buildings. I'm not quite sure where this B&W fetish of mine has come from, its like the sun / colour has been drained from me! Remind me of a track I love which you can find here. I'd strongly recommend anyone who hasn't heard of Twisted Wheel and has more than a passing interest in either punk or edgy rock to have a listen. I think maybe someone has stolen my sun :-(

If two people aren't smiling shouldn't they have a go at making each other smile? I think so :D