I know its a strange title, but after my strangely domestic day today i will explain with the medium of dance!, on second thoughts, i better tell you as you can’t see my squaddie two step from there.
Ive noticed an increased level of young smokers from the UK coming onto the seafront and buying they’re cheap cigarettes, nothing wrong with that at all (I’m an ex smoker and can still see the appeal) but as the young girls are also encumbered with pushchairs encasing their most valuable possession (no not the 3d surround sound TV) they seem to be unable to grasp the idea that the cigarette is a thing to enjoy. a thing to have when there is a lull in work (Granted this Jezza K generation are only on holiday because there gyro turned up) or when you have a seriously thought provoking moment. These people seem to have taken the cigarette out of its useful context and shovelled it into the role of accessory for the chavvy council face lifted red shouldered hanger on to the bejewelled tattooed over fat skin headed loudmouth from hell! and whenever they are through with the smoke getting in their eyes and the ash going all over the toddler in the pram, they just throw it onto the ground and leave it,,,,,, thats what i detest! its not they’re place so why should it matter. IT DOES MATTER! There are bins around, they could ask to use on of the thousands of ashtrays on this smoke tolerant length of seafront, but no, they just discard the bloody thing like a pair of Ratners earrings in the early 90’s………..RANT OVER!
To the shops. Walking around the supermarket, it was pretty much the same experience you have when you walk around ASDA or TESCOS back in Blighty….except that when you look closely, some of the stuff you are used to seems a little different, hardly noticeable at first, you go for th escape and the colour of the jar of coffee you know and love, place it in your basket and carry on. its not until you move it to put something else in that you realise that it is a completely wrong make. when you scan the rest of the basket you hope, just hope that the brand name is the only thing thats different!! We will see. That wasn’t the strangest part of my shopping experience though, it seems that the only there shoppers are women (little old ones dressed from head to toe in black) or couples, not hetro couples, but men, couples of men only, no boy girl, but boy boy, all looking longingly at the cous cous (coux coux) with lust for each other in they’re eyes. Now I’m not one for stigmatising shoppers, but I’m gonna have to stop wearing tight shorts and vests whist at the supermarket!!
Me old mate Carlos rode past me while i was having a spot of lunch in town today, with his shorts, vest, shiny nazi helmet and dock martins on his Harley, he gave me a wave then circled around to sit for a while. i could here the people behind me talking in hushed tones as to the clip of the biker, oblivious to the fact that when they go home at the end of they’re annual holiday, people like myself and Carlos will still be here living the life we have embraced!!! i can work through the day and still cruise the hotspots in the afternoon while the holiday makers persist on getting a panic tan on their shoulders whilst pushing pushchairs around throwing ash on they’re kids and fag butts on the floor!
For Skye! X