Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Becoming More Like Alfie 

No point going home so I got myself comfy in the shed and nodded off for a while. Had a few strange dreams. At one point I started thinking about the Attic Studio Complex again but all wasn’t what it seemed. My thoughts kept drifting to the lovely Kirstie Allsopp and a protective plastic sleeve. Then, as if that wasn’t enough to stir me, I could swear I saw a beautiful vision on the exercise bike with a bum like j-lo’s, but just as quickly as I saw her, she vanished. How queer.

Next thing I know, I’ve woken up all disoriented. I’m sure I can hear someone rustling about outside the shed. I hope against hope that it’s not Big Dennis. Just then I hear the faint beep-beep-beep of a number being punched into a mobile phone. I can’t make out much of the ensuing conversation before it all goes quiet again.

I gather my thoughts and risk a quick stretch. My extended arm knocks a grimacing Toby Jug off a shelf and what should drop out but a key!! Ta Da!!

Trouble is, it’s only the key to the petrol strimmer next to it. Doh! However, looking through a crack in the shed I can see that the back door of AFMIP Towers is now open and I’m pretty sure that I can see someone crouching down and moving around in the kitchen. Blimey… I’m thinking burglars on the lookout for rock’n’roll memorabilia. If they wander off and leave that door open I’m sneaking in. Tim’d expect me to investigate. What a mystery. I feel like Harry Palmer.

Posted by backroads

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