Whoops.

Since last time I've had time to check up on the 'riot'.
Apparently, kids from some place other than Belle Isle school invaded and got into a huge brawl.
Less of the Spartacus and more of the Robin Hood, perhaps.
Then again.
Now a little word about subtlety.
Below is a picture of an Opera House.
In a small town.

The town has had two railway stations for over a hundred years, true, but the Victorian opera house is testament to the society that used to live within a day's journey.

On the outskirts of the town are(or were) several coal-mining villages, and the point is that there were those among the population of this area that liked opera so much, they banded together and built this splendid building.

People in those days had a profile, a public profile, which reflected the realities of their personalities. There were also creatures like Emil Zola asserting that these were pretences, that they were hypocritical extensions of conformity.

Somehow, the Zolas of that world were eventually exalted and trumpeted across the land. Until, in the 1970's I attempted to grow up in ragged Britain in ragged Europe.

I saw that, indeed, the assertions had become self-fulfilling. This was the age of 10cc, 'concentrating on trucking right'-for God's sake, they weren't apparently even capable of perambulating anymore without,wait for it:worrying about other people worrying about the way they possibly looked(who knows?)when walking.

So I determined not to have one of these crappy 'personality' things. Naturally, I thought Punk was a bit flash, but liked New Wave.

Hated 'Disco'; all that bloody medallion man bullshit.

Trouble was I threw the baby out with the bathwater, although this was understandable as he hadn't ever used a nappy.

Then I met Americans.

What can I say?

They had personalities, the Genuine Draft of freedom. It made the Wind of Change look like mild flatulence.

And I decided to pinch my nose and be pleasant again. I now have a personality. Just need a place to put it!