Wednesday, 15 August 2007


the first picture is an overhaed view of where i lived in guildford which is also the highest point in the area or at least guildford . Its next to a lookout tower or folly called the booker tower. you can see all around guildford from this point .the house is directly overlooking a victorian cemetery. very romantic places are overgrown victorian cemeterys. The cemetery was my playground . As a solitary child i would spend hours exploring it . It literally has not changed since i left . the years that have gone by since melt away or seem like nothing whenever i go back infrequently.The house hasnt changed either. Its reassuring in a funny sort of way. lewis carrol was buried in this cemetary as mum is from this area and she went to a very expensive private girls college in guildford.she flunked all her exams so it was a waste of money.history repeated itself with me as i flunked all my exams as well.every one of them .

the second picture is an overhead view of my old house and the others around it.that hasnt changed either. Although it sounds bigheaded to say it this was THE premier address in hastings.everyone thinks hastings is a run down shithole.i beg to differ.quite honestly living there surrounded by mile and miles of unspoilt wealden woodland plus the area in general i consider myself very priviliged indeed.having the woods on my doorstep was just the best thing that i could have had at that age.again it was my playground and i would spend a lot of time on my own exploring it and being at one with nature without a care in the world.i would disappear for hours and no one would mind or worry. another pivotal moment of my life was when the large run down victorian farmhouse across the road was bought by a london cab driver of all people who proceeded to renovate it. I then decided at the age of twelve that i wanted to do the same .thats what i do now amongst other things.sometimes you just know what you want instinctivly.The woods themselves are a nature reserve and owned and protected by a trust and preservation society. the keepers of the woods in other words .that was us and some others who lived in the immediate vicinity of the woods.together we managed the woods and managed the trust.sort of custodians of the woods.i used to get involved in woodland conservation when we lived there. believe it or not it was only a 20 odd minute walk to the town centre and sea.ther was plenty of walking home through the woods at night a bit drunk to get home. i dont fear the dark at all because it was always dark at night. i remember being very into ornithology or birdwatching then as we were surrounded by them of every species and we always fed them as well .i used to know every call by window in the house was approximatly 20 foot by ten foot or more in size.birds would fly into it and stun themselves as they couldnt see the glass as it was clean.we used to take them to the bird sanctuary as we knew someone there who was high up in the r.s.p.b who i used to go birdwatching with. so all in all it was a fucking [excuse my french]fantastic place to live and grow up and i am eternally grateful for it and always will be .i dont take anything for granted in my life and never the old days when you would get snow you can imagine just how amazing it looked first thing just after the snow had fallen in the morning. just a sea of whiteness and an lsd trip without the lsd. never to be forgotten.when thye snow was thick i would go sledging in one of the hores fields that had a steep slope.virtually the whole neighbourhood would be there and i would know everyone there.

the third picture is the sea or shore of dungeness or dungeness power station to be precise. if you look you will see 2 places where the sea is bubbling up .you can see a slightly circular pattern in two places.this is caused by warm or very hot water that has been expelled from the nucleur power station .To be exact it is water that has been used to cool the reactor rods or reactor.As you probably know reactor rods are submerged in water constantly .the water is pumped around the reactor rods 24 -7 as a cooling mechanism .or they are in this case as there are many ways to skin a cat. this water is very warm when expelled into the sea this area is fantastic for fishing as the warm water attracts a lot of fish . its good for swimming as well .i used to swim in it. that might explain a few things ! perhaps i am a mutant !! . My father was involved in designing and building this place .That does my head in sometimes when i go there.I used to spend all day fishing at dungeness when my dad was at work there during the day during summer holidays looks so much better at night when its lit can see it in the distance lit up at night when you are in the beer garden of one of my favouirte pubs the queens Head at icklesham .people think because of chernobly etc that nucleur power stations are inherently unstable.its understandable but the truth is very different in the west.its not their fault as they are uneducated but they dont know jack shit about nucleur power can they ? i know more than they do and believe me there are failsafe devices and various mechanisms that i dont understand that are activated one after the other before a reactor gets anywhere near a critical point of meltdown .to compare nucleur power stations here to russia is no comparison whatsover.misguided ignorance.its very very very unlikely that would ever happen. i am not necessarily a supporter of nucleaur power but it has its uses in the short term . unfortunatly the physics of dealing with nucleaur waste isnt understood yet.My father was also involved in sizewell b power station but i dont know so much about that.dungeness is also famous for film director derek jarmans house and garden .its a work of genius and is planted with indiginous plant species and detritus washed up on the shore like driftwood etc.its a beautiful sight and more like a work of art than a garden .a book was published about it as well.dungeness is one of the wierdest places you can go to.very surreal.

thats enough for now.

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