I'm back, I'm back as a matter of fact, I'm back (with a point of view to put)

Or something along those lines. Actually, the first part of that is Gary Glitter so probably best not to quote too freely from him, given his illegal predilections. Anyway, for some unknown reason, I stopped blogging, and now, for some equally unknown reason, I decided to do some more.

I suspect part of it is to do with a story currently doing the rounds in North Devon about a piercing parlour that has opened up in Barnstaple. This is an issue that has got some people very hot under the collar arguing for an against. The other reason to re-enter the blogosphere (silly word) is another blog I read by a journalist called Keith Topping. He urges everyone in Britain to exercise their right of free speech (for so long as we still have it).

So, back to piercing. The argument going on among commentators on the North Devon Journal website seemed to split into two camps. Most of the anti-piercing people seemed to think 'the pierced' were weirdoes who were unemployed and who would never get a job. Meanwhile, the pro-piercers seemed to take the - not unreasonable - view that it was their choice to do to their bodies whatever they liked. They also pointed out that piercing and other body modifications were increasingly fashionable, and that many of them had a range of responsible jobs. Where their approach tended to fail slightly was when they suggested that those opposed to them should shut the f*ck up. Erm, wasn't all this about freedom of choice and so on?

On the basis that I've got an opinion (they are, after all, like arseholes - we all have one) I just wanted to give my two penn'orth and whether anyone is interested or not I really don't care - it's my blog. As far as I can see on this, if you want to have metal bits sticking out of your head, neck, back or genitals (if you so choose), or have lumps cut out of your flesh, or get branded, well. . .that's up to you. Whatever turns you on, baby, if indeed it does turn you on. Having said that, I do find the impression created by some piercings to be, quite frankly, rather threatening. Little metal horns poking out of someone's forehead are somewhat redolent of classic depictions of the devil - literally, the horned one.

The pierced persuasion argue that people should have an open mind about their appearance. Let's face it, if you were about to get jiggy with a man or a woman wearing a very sober business suit who, when they were in their birthday suit, suddenly revealed some spectacular genital piercing what effect would that have on your frame of mind? Would you suddenly decide you'd gone off the whole idea? Or would you go 'right on, let's do the wild thing'? Personally speaking I certainly wouldn't say 'Let's call the whole thing off'. But then on the quiet I am very broad-minded.

The question that crops up with being open-minded is that presumably that extends to people who want to use their right to be small-minded. Or does it? Am I clever enough to have stumbled on the classic liberal dilemma while whittering on about piercing? Obviously, the answer to that is YES, but isn't it all about that 'I disagree with what you say, but would defend to the death your right to say it'. I'm not sure who said that (Voltaire, maybe?) but surely he would have extended that to piercing. I dunno. However, I am sure on one thing, no piercing for me, thank you.

Oh, by the way, the man in the red Renault Megane estate who was living in a lay-by on the A39 has gone. Who knows where? Maybe with the changing of the seasons he moves on.

What's in a name? Well, sometimes it's everything.

I have mentioned the man who I think lives in a Renault estate on the "Atlantic Highway" between Bideford and Barnstaple. Well, I said it was a Laguna, but now I am fairly confident in saying it is, in fact, a Megane. I know, I know, it's only a small point, but I like to get these things right, I suspect it ties in with the work I do.

Have some fun on the A361

It interests me that I travel most days on what is officially known as the Atlantic Highway - the A39. What amuses me about this is that no matter how many times I drive along this particular stretch of road, it is always just the bit of road between Bideford and Barnstaple. Why, in the UK, don't we do the romance of roads? One of my favourite songs is Route 66. I don't care who sings it - Christ, even me singing it can sound good (to my ears) - but where are such songs in a British context?

Get your kicks on route 66, have some fun on the A361, know you're alive on the old M5, head for heaven on the A377 - all right you get the idea. The roads are there, but we don't celebrate them in song. But your Americans, well, you can't stop them. They're singing about roads, Ventura Boulevard, Broadway etc, or they're singing about places, Chicago, New York, San Francisco. Why don't we have such songs in our country?

I think that even in North Devon there is scope for a bit of song-writing to do with geography. Don't go telling me that some of the places in North Devon might not actually be up to much. I've never been to Galveston, but Glen Campbell bangs out a song about said place and we all swallow it hook, line and sinker. For all I know, the place could be a complete toilet. I think there is great scope in North Devon for a bit of creativity with songs. So what if Ilfracombe rhymes with doom, Appledore with bore, Combe Martin with fartin'. The scope is endless, if only we apply the right approach.

I might have to come back to this, in much the same way that I will one day do my posting on women and constipation. It's a great big world of blogging opportunities out there. If you want to find out more, sign up and follow my blog. You might enjoy it.

Life on the road

I used to have to drive all over North Devon for work, but now I don't. Instead I drive just one particular stretch of road most days and, as a consequence, I've got to know it pretty well. I travel along part of the A39 between Bideford and Barnstaple and it is very familiar to me, which is how I noticed the man in the red Renault Laguna estate. Most days, in the lay-bys closest to the Barnstaple end of the Torridge Bridge (on both sides of the road) you will see him. There seems to be no rhyme nor reason to which lay-by he chooses, but it is rare for him not to be there. I think he could be living in his car.

I told my significant other about this and she suggested that as we were driving along the A39 at the time we should see if he was parked up and take a look. He was there, in the lay-by on the Bideford-bound side of the road, but he was facing towards Barnstaple - maybe he wanted the sun. We stopped our car opposite his and looked at him, and he looked at us. If we were not going to initiate a conversation there didn't seem much more we could do, so we carried on with our journey. I noticed that the rear window of his car was missing and the back door was dented.

So for the time being the man in the red Renault Laguna estate remains something of a mystery. I suppose I might just be intolerably nosy, but why people do things fascinates me, and I can't begin to understand why a person would spend so much time sitting in their car in one of two lay-bys. I first noticed him about a month ago and it has become impossible for me not to glance up at the lay-bys as I drive by. Nine times out of ten (an entirely unscientific assertion) I would say he was there. But why?