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As I was travelling to work one morning a few years back, I glanced to out of the cattle truck window to witness a full blown party going down in the morning sunshine.
There they were, on some urban memorial benches near the town. About fifteen partygoers, happy as larry, guzzling White Lightning, smoking the good stuff and talking animatedly in shell suits and old trainers.
This Hogarthian garden party was staged right across from Europe’s largest sanctuary for the Homeless, in Nottingham; where the rooms have portable televisions, self-regulated central heating, fresh linen and the travelling guests can borrow an X-Box 360 from the leisure library whenever they fancy a quiet night in.
It must have been giro day. Reading this thread reminded me of that morning.
There they’ll be in April, lucky souls; high as kites by eight, drunk as Lords by nine and now they can complete Gordon Brown’s Holy Trinity of Deregulated Leisure by being able to have an early doors Trap Challenge – all before most of us have finished our Americanos and doffed our caps to the Boss.
I’m not ever so sure whether all this freedom is a good thing or a bad one. Like Dolus, I remember restricted off-licence hours, telly closedown, and bookies which shut at four. None of that was much fun, was it?