Ayup! A few of you may have stumbled here through my rather rubbish attempts at self-publicity (Im still waiting for the sandwich boards to arrive).
I am, I confess, not originally from Beeston, having grown up in the lovely little suburb of Beeston, St. Apleford, and only moved/ sought asylum here in 1995. Yet I am a naturalised Beestonian, me mum knew Paul Smith and my dad, a Chilwellian, knew Richard Beckinsale from their mutual education at Chilwell Comp. A decade and a half of fascination has manifested itself within me, thus this blog. What other town can be so rife in talent, coffee shops and weirdness? To the casual visitor, it may seem just another tiny node on the backside of a notorious Midland’s city, but scratch the surface and there is so, so much more. Many writers and philosophers have been urgent to alert us to the the wonder close examination of the seemingly mundane can reveal, and that is what I intend to apply here. Tell me about what Beestonia means to you, good or bad, I shall give air to your opinions. Where do you drink? Who do you see round town? Are you an ex-pat craving for a pint at the Crown? A newcomer at the Uni still a bit baffled by the fact we have a statue with a nose-ring as our symbo,l and a town with a habit of sticking bees on everything despite having no history of Apiarism? Get involved then. Beeston has just become part of Web 2.0. Start up your hovercars, leave the housework to the housewifebots, and become part of the FUTURE, right here.