HANGIN' AT THE FIRING RANGE
Just one final post, I think, then I can probably ditch this M.I.A. / Shellshocked / Straight-to-DVD Namsploitation Persona I've adopted in recent days. I mean, just because I've been living in a tent lol...which has been alternately Fun / Not Fun. I mean, it's just an inconvenience; it's not forever - but some people don't, y'know, have that option...
Not Fun was getting flooded-out a few nights ago, waking up in a couple centimetres of water after 7 hours of torrential rain and having to bail the tent out. Not Fun was wednesday, when the girders turned up and yet more ceiling stuff was knocked out and there was an hour or two worrying whether the fucking house might fall down. (It didn't) My bike got nicked that day too - I've since got it back, which makes for an amusing story in itself (though not tonight) - so I had to walk back in pouring rain and then spend two hours trying to make the living-room vaguely habitable again, ready for when the kids came back. It was like one of those Army gas-shed things, if you know what I mean. I'd got used to 7 weeks of dust, but this was Pompeii levels, plus they'd been welding on site, so the whole house was filled with ozone or acetylene or something. Wednesday was not good, no siree. Thursday was only slightly better: more girder work, blahblahblah.
My family had finally fled the house a week or so ago. I'm glad they weren't there during the worst of it. The house was pretty much uninhabitable.
They're back now and I'm very glad to see them. I spent a really nice morning with my daughters on saturday. They are sooo cool.
The sun came out today, so we had a barbecue with some dregs from the bottom of the freezer while the builder laughed at my inability to light the damn thing. We've no kitchen, see?
I've spent so much time working in a local cafe recently that the Cafe Nero chain are offering me a Writer-in-Residence Post.
Anyway... just this, then this blog goes back to, er...whatever it is we normally do round here.
I've lived in Yeovil all my life and never realised we had a firing-range in the town - and it's only about 400yds from my house (or what's left of it). It's kinda hidden away, which is even cooler. Yeovil is a place of many secrets. I never get bored with it.
I guess any American readers who might've grown up around guns will find this hilariously low-key. I loved the down-to-earth Englishness of it all - that it was target-shooting and pellet-guns - not poshboys shooting quail or something. Alright, alright: I know you don't really shoot quail.
Their club-hut was completely awesome, I thought.
Turns out I'm a pretty lousy shot - look at that drift to the right! Mind you, at my age I'm amazed I could even see the target! Kid Kid Shirt (Aged 9) is waaay better than me; she's like a Black Ops sniper or something.