The ladyfriend and I had to come to work on the bus this morning, the motor is being looked at, it keeps conking out at inconvenient times. On the way to the bus shelter we walked past the new development of posh flats built on a flood plain - you know the sort, balconies, signs of last few remaining, prestigious development, marketing suite types - anyway, I looked up at a top floor flat and as expected I saw the french doors open leading onto the balcony with a parisian style pavement cafe table and chairs on it. "Oooh I thought, how wonderful, I bet a young high flyer lives in that one". Anyway, imagine my surprise then, when who should hover into view but a woman of advanced years in a pink towelling dressing gown, curlers in hair, full slap on and a fag hanging out of her mouth. Fantastic.
I should think her neighbours are quite alarmed that instead of Zero 7 or David Gray floating around her flat they get that nice Cliff Richards. I bet she sits out on her balcony reading the Sun drinking instant coffee and munching Sugar Puffs! Good on her. It's time the backlash started.
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