For some strange reason I seem to have been co-opted as the local guide. Some guy stops me in the high street and asks where the supermarket is, even though his friend already knows and can't get a word in edgeways. Another chap wants to know where a certain solicitors office is. A lady stops me in the street and I confirm she isn't lost. I'm thinking of selling guided tours of Swindon. Or perhaps there's an opportunity to make a living exploiting the rich variety of wildlife and colourful grafitti to be found here? Swindon Safaris... Hey, all I need is a pair of shorts, a hunting rifle, and a land rover with big tires and my fortune is made.

Unseasonal Weather

We're being warned that even hotter weather is due to arrive in the week ahead. Ye gods if it goes on like this I'll have to start wearing tee shirts. I did see a black a few days ago waiting for a taxi at the car park next to the Brunel Centre, our local shopping mall. He was dressed entirely in black, his long leather jacket shining in the afternoon sunshine. Of course it goes goes without saying his head was shaven and his expression hidden mysteriously behind dark shades. An image certainly, but one might argue it wasn't cool in this weather. No wonder he was stood still patiently. he would have drowned if he'd moved a muscle. Either that or he was already dead from heat prostration and was too street-credible for anyone to notice.

Sweaty Nights

Last night it was too much. The warm air had filtered up into my ordinarily chilly flat and it was becoming uncomfortable. This is the end of April for crying out loud - what's going to happen in late August? Anyway I opened the window and did my best to cope. All the traffic noise outside gradually subsided as the night wore on. The people across the street from me are too weary from the heat and for once seem unwilling to provide another demonstration of how to make sex as boring as possible. The girl downstairs has finally recovered from her emotional upset, and the cries, yells, wails, sobs, and banging of furniture has quietened down. All is reverting to the silence of a Swindon nighttime...

So inevitably along come a bunch of anthropoids fresh from their watering holes and as always seems to happen, stop outside my house to socialise in loud hoots, pick fleas off each other, and genrally get involved in a lot of male bonding. Yes, I can hear you... But they give up and wander off in silence as is the standard behaviour of Homo Bozo. Now it's peaceful and quiet. So I'll get some shut eye until a late night reveller decides he fancies driving home in my car and discovers to his dismay his car thieving skills are not sufficient to breathe life into it. Guess you'll have walk home, sonny. Oh if only it was raining...