Park life...

As Morrissey once suggested, we went for a walk where it's quiet and dry and talked about precious things. Or, rather, we wandered around the park that's five minutes from our house eating Doritos and supping Coca Cola and talked about what the council have spent the millions they are kidding us they were spending on a park revamp on. Okay, there's a nice new building that announces welcome, bienvenue, accueil, willkommen and sells Calypos and Feasts, a pretty little play park for tots and some electronic help buttons dotted around that bring the park keeper running, but other than that there's just the odd bit of tarmac, a lot of grass seed and blokes leaning on shovels. There's a grand opening a week on Sunday, so unless they're air lifting in a new gold-plated lido and redistributing the unspent cash there'll be a lot of disappointed council tax payers wandering about complaining before they maraud and dash past the aviaries with burning flames before shitting in the boating lake. After the walk I cleaned the front door and went in the loft. I can't find an appropriate Morrissey lyric to excuse this behaviour.

Listening: The Clash - London Calling.