Going straight

Hello one and all. Very sorry for my recent absence from the blog. I have been busy moving out of my French hovel and back to my Coventry home via North Wales. That in itself was a chore as there is only one airport in North Wales and its only flight is a twice monthly postal biplane from Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. So I flew to Liverpool and voyaged to Snowdonia using Merseyrail and an endless succession of rural bus services where you have to sit next to a sheepdog and haggard men in rocking chairs stroke their blunderbusses with increasing vigour as you draw near.

Highlights of my life in the last fortnight include:
- severe internal damage following a massive feast involving steak and ale pie, chips, apple crumble and too much real ale
- climbing Snowdon and getting a great view of...some cloud
- proving that you can actually walk through Liverpool without getting your kidneys stolen
- a handmade scotch egg. A fucking handmade scotch egg.
- meeting up with old mates from school, who are all either married, gay, divorced or milkmen

The UK is mainly the same as I remember it. Everyone's talking about credit crunch (is that a new breakfast cereal?), kids still have no bloody respect and DFS adverts are butchering yet another rock classic.

I will regale you soon with amusing tales of my French exploits, including the time I got mugged, and errr...the other time that I got mugged.

It might actually blow your mind. Sorry in advance.