Monday, January 01, 2007
Singing songs to myself
I’d gotten the indication, at some point or another, that I do not live in the best of neighbourhoods. Other people, I’m sure can have things like mail, parcels, credit cards easily delivered to their house without having to worry about theft. I frequently wonder at how much rent one must pay to have such luxuries as safe delivery and the garbage being collected when it’s supposed to be but I mostly dismiss those as idle thoughts – never shall I be so wealthy! Despite these little blips on the radar of the locale I’m fond of the area and (mostly) feel that I am safe in limb and property living here. A friend of mine who crashed here last night may now start fearing for my safety, or for that of my belongings, as some irritating git broke into her car which was parked out the front of my house. They took as much as they could including half the petrol and her faith in my charming locality. Up until that point we’d enjoyed quite the good New Year’s. Okay, so none of us got so much as a hint of a snog at midnight (or any other time of the night) but we all got home safely, had a good night in a good and friendly environment, and scored free booze. The beauty of being a really rather regular regular is that the owner gave us free cocktails and we also got free chips though those could be due to the lascivious looks one of our number routinely gives to the head chef. Free stuff and loads of grog maketh the night – though the day was clearly a different story.