It’s 9 o’clock, Tuesday morning, and I’ve already
- been out before the newspaper deliveries to take pictures of the deserted streets of West Kirby (for a video I intend to make for my Bruce Springsteen homage One Horse Town)
- had fresh coffee and Cheerios for my breakfast while reading the day’s news in the free Metro newspaper
- checked my emails on Yahoo and Google, read about Fernando Torres‘s annus horribilis on the Guardian website and responded to notifications on Facebook
- made Amy her ham and pickle sandwiches
- made pizza dough (as a special treat for the wife tonight)
- been to Morrisons supermarket for tomato purée, tinned pineapple and grated mozzarella (for the pizza topping)
- walked to Newton to pick up my car (we had dinner last night round at my friend Ehab’s – coincidentally, he’s the guy who runs the local pizza takeaway: he’s not getting my business tonight)
- been to Lunt’s the greengrocer for tomatoes (for the homemade pizza sauce), red onions and green peppers (for the pizza topping)
- updated the blog I write with my friend Leo (who lives half a world apart in Canada)
Such is the life of a would-be singer/songwriter living in suburbia.
Rock n roll eh?
Well, Leo, I must admit that your gaff looks very nice. Me, I live in the centre of the heaving metropolis that is West Kirby town centre. As you can see, it’s very metropolitan. And a little bit heaving too, wouldn’t you say?
I took this picture this morning, from up by the War Memorial on top of Grange Hill, so I could show you exactly where I live. Now this is going to be tricky. How can I explain?
Okay, I think I’ve got it: if you draw a vertical line through the centre of the photo, and a horizontal line about a third of the way up from the bottom of the photo, my house is roughly where those two lines intersect.
Found it? No? Well, can you see the terraced house that has not one but two Velux windows, running at a diagonal from top left to bottom right? No?
Hmm? How can I explain? Well… do you see the house with the great big white arrow on the roof…?
Newton, Sir!? Newton!!?? How very dare you!?
Newton, need I remind you, looks like this:-
No, I live in West Kirby. The sleepy little seaside village I mentioned earlier. Which I think you’ll recall looks like this:-
After we left school (and I can confirm I did stop speaking to you in 1983 – though quite involuntarily), I went to College in Leicester, got kicked out, came home, moved back to Leicester, came home, went to College in Wales, came home, lived in France, came home, moved to Watford, came home. And I’ve lived here ever since. All that moving around was making me feel quite queasy.
So, why on earth did you end up in Canada? Just to avoid me?
Yes and no. Indeed, ’tis I, Leo, your old school mate, however I no longer live in Hoylake. After we left school I lived in Chester and Neston mostly. Then, ten years ago (and I can neither confirm or deny the rumours that it was because you had stopped speaking to me in 1983) I moved a bit further away…currently I live surrounded by temperate rain forest quite close (by local standards) to Vancouver, British Columbia. It’s a bit different from Hoylake or West Kirby but you know what? I miss living near to the beach. Don’t tell me – you’re still in that room in your folk’s house in Newton aren’t you?