The story so far, this is a real place. We are Cambridgeshire’s answer to Jeremy Clarkson’s Farm DiddlySquat whilst our neighbours, the A’s are Cambridgeshire’s answer to Jeremy Clarkson. Popular with the council, they are not. By the way, for the sake of form, all opinions are mine alone and every statement I write, is only my opinion. Moreover, all the characters are entirely fictitious and bear no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.
I love everyone, nothing I write is meant to upset anyone of any colour or cultural persuasion. I simply find the earthlings I know entertaining and loveable.
D has a new boyfriend. We all know about him, each of us have enough small glimpses to put together a story. It may or may not be true, but that doesn’t matter. The fun lies in the story. He is a guitarist and singer. He knows two songs by David Bowie, his party pieces. He borrows a guitar, and sings and strums as though his life depended on it. He is six years younger than her. It’s not your age but your energy. As you get older, this is important, because energy is the rate limiting step.
We moved here year and a month ago. We met eighteen months ago – 19th January 2023, under the London Eye. Two months later we put an offer in on Didley Squat East. He looked like a drummer and I looked like a doctor. He drums and I used to practice medicine. Nowadays I get paid for my opinions and medical knowledge. I love it. All talk and no action. Opinion only.
D is a sister, as inactive an introvert as you could ever hope to meet. She never lets go of the reins of power.