Welcome back to the ever-burgeoning chaos that is Beestonia. My hiatus this week squarely lands at the foot of Broadband providers; of which for some time I seemed o have two, but no actual broadband. This must be the epitome of triumphant capitalism, but really a bit of an arse for someone who has to type up his thoughts periodically less he is found naked, at midnight, in a public park barking inanities at trees regarding councillors, Beeston Square and the new Batman Movie.
So where are we? Cripes, too much to relate. So to the tune of Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Light The Fire’, here’s a run down of recent stuff:
Tram works/ carpark gone/ Chilwell road/ oblivion
Carnival/ rained a bit/ British summer rather shit
Gloom and doom/ but some hope/ Barton House liferope
Starter gun/ stand-up fun/comedy fest number one.
Where is Soubs/ not here/ Mapperley?/yes my dear.
Anna/ not a fool/ needs at least a heated pool
NG3 she’s too keen / Beeston denied a new Queen
Pickfords relax, theres no if, her next move is Rush-cliffe
We didn’t call her a liar
But we’re rapidly learning
The Ladies for Turning.
And I’ll leave it at that, as to try and make that conceit work i’ve just had to listen to Billy Joel a dozen times, which is approximately 11 times more than any sane human should ever endure. Lets have some good news.
As you may know, and if you don’t know, I will ensure you know so loudly when they remove your brain at the autopsy it will be visibally seared across the frontal lobes; I am volunteering for Oxfam’s sublime ‘Oxjam’ festival this year, which will descend upon Beeston like a multi-togged duvet of talent over the mattress of joy that is this town. I’m the head of marketing, so if there is anyone out there apart from my mother and some confused Estonians, listen up.
This can only work with you. I’m launching the Twitter feed tomorrow, so if you’re not following me already on Twitter, do so now and i’ll let you know the next step. . Those not on Twitter: get on it. Now. It’s like Facebook but without endless reminders that your ‘friends’ have collected a mango on some terrifyingly awful ‘social’ online game. Anyone reading this play Farmille? Yes? Stop. Go off and run a real farm. It’s a bit different, less verdant, and more inclination to top yourself/ shoot dogs that stray on your land, even if you only grow peas. Go on, do it, and stop telling me about your purely imaginary ‘maize’ crop.
Another piece of great news regards Ryland’s Temple, the strikingly beautiful Hindu wonder that sits on West Crescent. Tomorrow (Thursday) the kids at Beeston Rylands school years 3-4 will be visiting the temple. This is great news, as infant Beestonains will be as infatuated and amazed by the artistic wonderfulness inside as much as I was. Yet don’t let your kids have to tell you about this, get down yourself. You will be dazzled, And no, as I have had to explain to many people already, you do not need to be a Hindu, Just show due respect and have a good look around. Any conversions, I relinquish responsibility for.