Loads of you have been asking where I’ve been. In fact, it’s so long since I did a post, WordPress have even gone and changed their user interface, including the ability to ‘add a poll’. So now I might add a poll just for the hell of it. No idea what about. Maybe a poll asking whether you like polls? Who knows. It also has a button that says ‘distraction free writing mode’. WTF? I just pressed it and nothing happened. Mart’s still wanging on and the sun’s still shining. Oh well.
Unfortunately the basic typing method hasn’t changed. It’s still me jumping about on letter keys no bigger than my toe. Occasionally one gets stuck. Happened the other day on the letter P. It’s a tricky business. Always has been. The whole typing effort is also the reason I’ve been absent from the longer form post. I sprained my foot. Twitter’s 140 characters was all I could bloody manage. There. I said it. I sprained my fucking foot. Jesus it hurt. How, you might ask? Let’s just say a puddle of beer was involved followed by an embarrassing incident at The Clock Tower.
So, I’m still in Brighton and it’s been a rocking summer, injury aside. Wall-to-wall hotness, and it’s still going on. A far cry from last summer that’s for sure. In fact, had we had this summer last summer, I may have stayed in London. A long stretch of sustained sunshine is always a winner. I bet even Coventry looked alright this summer. Then again, maybe not.
This is mainly where I’ve been spending my days. It’s a cafe called The Meeting Place down on the seafront. It’s the best place by miles for some decent throwaway, and is a great place to meet new pigeons:
And, as you’ll see from this next pic, it’s got a great view too.
This is Bill, or I think his name was Bill. Can’t really remember as he didn’t say much:
Only snag with The Meeting Place, as it’s bang on the seafront, is it does tend to attract the tourists. Not that I’m exactly a local, but you know what I mean.
Tourists like this total twat in a hat. A hat that he’d fashioned out of his own arse feathers:
All the rage in Swansea, apparently. Knob.
We all ignored him and he went away in the end.
So, what next? Summer’s coming to an end. The autumn then, I guess. Let’s hope it’s a nice gentle one. Bit of sunshine gradually easing us towards Christmas. Jesus. Christmas. Did I just say that?
I’ve got no clue what Brighton will be like at Christmas. Word on the street is there’s loads of parties. Sounds good to me, so long as I stay away from that fucking Clock Tower.