Toxic building syndrome – or whatever you do don't take on a pub as a business venture. The prospect of running a live music venue is dangerously appealing...maybe one fine day when the pension kicks in.
The sound of the trams, it's a friendly clang, a bit like when Vic hits Bob with a frying pan, twice in quick succession. Day three and no known fatalities so far. I did see one old bloke get close to becoming that particular awkward statistic. "There were no bloody trams in my young day...or were there?"
Here's a van I liked, nothing to do with toxic building syndrome either, but TBS seems to happen a lot in London (the BBC; hygiene breakdowns allegedly resulting in shrill or overly loud examples of TV presentation) and the Home Counties, occasionally it spreads north to urban areas such as Manchester or Berwick upon Tweed. Today I'm carrying undercover investigations to see how that pearl on the Forth of Firth aka Edinburgh Town is fairing. All the signs so far are good but what awaits us when we wander away from the whirr and clang of the suspicious and elitist tram system and the skirl of dangerously over exposed busking bagpipers? Rumour has it that the firing of nuclear tipped shells from the one o'clock gun was considered in the sixties and during the Miner's Strike. I doubt if it was technically possible but it's a juicy news story and a believable lie. Some say that the gun may well be trained upon Bute House in dawn's early light on the 19th of September. Lots are already being drawn for gunner's duties that day.
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