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HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL:

I have never accepted that there is any value in standing still. Standing still gets you

absolutely nowhere. You get blinded by the light and get your head gets lopped off by the

chrome fender of a juggernaught. Well, if that’s the way you want to live …

By motivating myself and getting out and about today, I met a woman who specialises in

developing plots of land in and around Eccleshall that lend themselves to bijou little

residences. She has contacts.

Stuff you G.

November 5

Got thrown off her site of bijou little residences known as Yates’s Yard at the rear of 

Eccleshall High Street for taking photographs and checking out measurements. It’s as if they think Yates’s Yard is some kind of site of scientific interest - or of military

importance. Idiots. What are they trying to hide?

It’s somebody’s back yard filled with tiny houses at over-inflated prices - £189,000 to

£400,000 for two and three bedrooms and hardly a garage between them!

And no kids allowed – not that I want kids allowed. But at £400,000 for a place to call

home, you think you’d get a choice. And the owners - some old tart in wellies and her arse

of a husband - actively discourage you from living there all year round … “much prefer itif you have another bijou little residence abroad somewhere, old boy,” (less of the old –and  I’m not a boy either. Jerk …).

Three or four months of the year in residence is apparently fine, anything over that isfrowned upon. Why? It’s like some Costa del Sol gated community with its odd-job man

and blubbery harridan of a whinnying superintendent.

It brags that it has it’s own spa pool at the integral health centre. I remember in the 60s

when I was a kid in Manchester we used to have the municipal swimming baths next to the

doctor’s surgery - one stank of chlorine, the other of TCP. But they didn’t stink of inept,

irrelevant brain-dead snobbery.

And we didn’t have to pay £2,000 per annum maintenance charge for the privilege either.

And we could live there for the rest of our lives if we wanted too – every single day.

What a load of bollocks Yates’s Yard is! But what a wonderful looking development.

That’s what interests me.

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The old tart in wellies kept asking me if she could help me – I kept politely telling her ‘no

thank you’. I didn’t know who she was the owner, unfortunately.

Anyway – she got Odd-Job to throw us off. I could have crushed him like a bowler hat.

I said – “you’ve just done yourself out of a sale here, mate” - he smirked and told me Icouldn’t afford to live there anyway!

A put in an official complaint to the estate agent and we went home.

But at least we were armed with enough data to start planning our own mews development

(maybe I’ll call it Dun Snobbin’).