For the first time this year I've had the fan plugged in. I can't claim this is a momentous event but it does show that despite regular good weather of recent months it hasn't actually been all that warm. Neither is today all that hot, rather an uncomfortable warmth that makes the air feel heavy.

My little fan is a reliable machine. I haven't quite sunk the depths of sadness by giving it a name or having one-sided conversations with it, but after twelve years of faultless service, I think it deserves a mention. Well done that fan.

Caught With Intent To Eat Curry

Last night I popped down the hill for a curry at my favoured takeaway. That's something of an extravagance these days, but since I split it between two meals, I can claim reasonable value for money especially if I choose the cheaper dishes like biryani's, which also happen to a house speciality and taste darn good. Vindaloo hot please. It's a curry - What else would I demand?

The street is a busy road junction and whilst I could walk the other way a few yards and use pedestrian crossings, I invariably don't, since with a bit of care and urgency I can nip across between traffic light changes.

Last night though a police car cruised by as I waited for an opportunity to cross the road. Even in the dark I could see the driver talking to his companion, gesturing at me in a casual summary of my character, 'form', derogatory stories, or merely criticising my interesting fashion sense. On the other hand, everyone knows unemployed people cannot afford luxuries like hot food....

Now that my electric fan is more famous than I am, I was hoping my anonymity would avoid this sort of attention. Oh well. No doubt my cirumstances will be investigated again shortly. In the meantime, I have a curry to enjoy.

The Old Place

When I came across the new plan for the redevelopment of the Swindon College site, I was curious to find out more. Not just because I live next door, but also because I happen to know that a Romano-British farmstead once stood at the bottom of the hill. It also happens the bottom of the hill was still a farm before the old market town and the railway village finally closed against each other on the nineteenth century.

The sense of continuity is astonishing. At times like this my imagination runs riot, pondering how generations of the same family might have lived on the same plot of land for nearly fifteen centuries. It probably didn't happen that way of course, but then, studies have shown how our ancestory is often linked to the area we live in, even in our modern mobile world. It's funny, but love or loathe Swindon, once you live here a while and get to know its hidden history, you can't help feeling attached to the place. Especially with such a good curry house down the road.