The Lava Trolley: Are my roots showing?

The Lava Trolley

Or is it the lavatory???

...Either case, this little nook on blogasphere is the natural dumping ground for the sort of crap that erupts
when you find a wee Chink in the Britworks...

But hey, I promise you this is steamingly hot shit...which is probably why it's all looking a bit brown!

 

04 November 2006

Are my roots showing?

orange1

Three long years (nearly four), and I've still not quite accustomed myself to the ups and downs of life 'up north'...let alone spare 150 seconds of that time for a meal-ejecting, aero-disemboweling nose-dive on the Big One.

That never ceases to amaze people...The latter undertaking, I mean. The former is perfectly understandable...Most of the time, I try to avoid telling people I'm from Blackpool. (The association is just far too embarrassing, especially now its only redeeming feature - TVR - has jumped ship.) To be fair, this isn't an out-and-out lie since I am not really native to this region.

Besides, having lived in various other far more exotic settings (my speech is a bit of a giveaway), I can always fall back on explanations of my hybrid beginnings.

Now that we have moved into our own house, it has become increasingly apparent to me that I'm going to be seeing a lot more of...


this...


this...


and this...

Oh, brave new world that hath such people in it!

I have just about resigned myself to permanent residency in Los Chavas.

This is just a 'filler post', but you can hardly blame me since nothing noteworthy ever happens in this neck of the woods. I will never forget the first time I moved here...You can guess the reason from the blog I wrote about the happy ordeal:

May 2002

Mobilised substantial artillery of girlie paraphernalia,
entire pantheon of idiosyncratic notions, and imagined female
defects. Abandoned Brighton (Sussex) at 1050hrs (First giant leap
since the Invasion of '99).

Rolled into Blackpool (approximately 12 hours later) on large
vehicle that was suitably intimidating (mainly due to screaming
firepower of holidaying kids and parents on board, which drained
energy fields so Shields were down).


Occupation of the honourable Gregory-San’s bedchamber encountered
little resistance, although there were slight navigation problems as labyrinth
of clutter camouflaged floor space. Have turned territory into current
headquarters for future world domination projects, even though indignant
protests over infringement of personal spare time do set off internal alarm
systems from time to time.


However, treaty negotiations for vantage point by sole bedside
table collapsed despite repeated diplomatic attempts...Decided to re-think
strategy after grudging (temporary!) retreat...Perhaps some form of aggressive
biological warfare involving KY Jelly, or distraction tactics applied to
co-ordinates of (otherwise-classified) facial / anatomical atlas may give rise to
more compromising solutions. Failure is not an option! In the meantime, must be less negligent during Duvet Patrol, and enlist help of mechanical sentry (Code Name: Private Hoover) for Operation Fag-Ash Clean-up.


Maximum joy!

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