The Cheshire Set

I'm off to Cheshire, to my place of birth. It really is a hellhole. I mean, Chester itself is alright, if we're talking about the city centre, but the outlying areas from whence I hail are Scouser-come-good lower middle class hell. There you go, I've just defined myself as lower middle class. Actually, Tomos defined me as lower middle class at Claire's 30th birthday and it's been echoing around in my head ever since. It really is like Footballer's Wives. Although my parents aren't rich. They're lower middle class. Apparently. Although they're not Scousers-come-good. To clarify.

Talk about brain dead (people in Cheshire, that is, not Tomos). BJ and I were actually shouted at in the street last time we were there even though we were walking along minding our own business - not like we were even holding hands or anything like that. I'm all for making a political point but I wouldn't dare in the environs of CH66.

Still, I'm staying with Laura, whose parents live in a rural idyll as opposed to my parents who live in dreary suburbia. Phew. Furthermore, the weather is so appalling our plans revolve entirely around eating. My plans always do. I need fattening up, for the love of god!, I was subjected to more than a week of hospital food! So, we're going to don our Barbours and perhaps venture out for a tiny gentle stroll. Perhaps Laura will take me on another trip to look at the council houses. We'll see.

So strange reading the blogs below from before the operation. It all seems like a dream...