The Salubrium

Southern Fried Chicken,
You will recall my telling you about the crazy lady who owns the fields at the back of my house? How she keeps numerous horses, geese, dogs, speedboats etc in those fields and neglects them; how she builds no end of fences without good reason; her vendetta against my neighbour (including trying to run him over, missing, and so reversing and trying again)? Well, she was on the front page of the Evening News yesterday. "Shame of Attack Dogs Owner"  was the headline, with a large picture of her leaving court. Apparently, her 'lovely' Rottweilers (think slavering rabid hounds of hell) Radar and Shakira went on a 60 minute rampage down our street in January, biting two little old ladies, the postman, a poodle and a terrier (no wonder we never get any deliveries). Her defence was that it was a one-off, that she was asleep at the time and had no idea they'd got loose. Bollocks. I've had to take the long way round several times to avoid them (scenes reminiscent of The Omen, except two dogs not one); they've gone for my stepdad (he fended them off with his cricket bag) and actually sank their teeth into that same next-door neighbour (thankfully, they mainly got his jacket). No decision's been made yet, but they'll probably be put down. Hopefully she'll get banned from keeping animals too; the newsagent is related to her, and says the reason the dogs rampage is that she forgets to feed them and never walks them.
As I bought the paper, I met the neighbour's wife, who virtually jumped up and clicked her heels in joy. She told me another tale; one teatime, walking their dogs, the neighbour came across the crazy lady and boyfriend in flagrante delicto (or "fornicating", as she put it) in her mother's front garden. Which is that pavilion-looking house that is head on as you turn down my road. Which has a garden wall of about a foot high.
Nice.
It's Grim Up Northern

Southern personage,
Problem avec l'anniversaire du votre Papa. It's not Pete (I think he's still mid-exams on his birthday, and I'm not expecting an invite if he did party). It's my exams - I've got my last one on the 23rd, and will be expected to be in full revise-mode that weekend. If ma mere ends up going away for the weekend, it's not a problem. But, seeing as she's my landlady etc. it wouldn't do to get on her bad side by going out. There would be no end of problemos. So I'm afraid it is looking unlikely that I can attend. I'll keep you updated. Damn exams.
Audition today for lovely game show. I hope I get on, it could be easy money. I'd just have to enlist your help...more later.
The Dead Ringers thing is still freaking me out.
Potential site: the former Salvage Shop on Newport Street?
Talking of sites, I'm going to create one this summer to take ye world by storm. Popbitch meets Private Eye meets thespoof.com meets The Guide meets tvgohome Holy Moly (especially Clueless Joe) meets our random conversations about nonsense, congregated in The Clifton and sifted through The Salubrium. I hope you will contribute your wisdom.
Northenden

Southern,
"School reunion" last night. Full write-up on my blog later. Nothing exciting, except that J2 is actually rather nice. Celeb-spot of Corrie's very own Tyrone in the r'n'b room. Offered Miriam money to (a) pull him or (b) find out if it's true that they're killing off Monica the greyhound, but she declined.
The former Temple premises are still vacant.
Northern (con hangover)

Southern,
Atlantis has mysteriously closed down. However, I feel that the premises would be too large for our establishment.
Tarnation to unrequited love. Still, it keeps me in the house.
Sperm check consept upsets me.
Northern.

Sud,
A was thinking of "just finding a late bar, like BL1 [where we Always End Up Going] and staying in there". So I told her the idea was to pub crawl more, and it'd already been decided.
She has Nobody from uni coming to stay.
I can't give you a no-tantrum guarantee, but I can guarantee that it's our prerogative to ignore it.
Speaking of tanrums, weird incident the other night. Went to stay at A's, her boyf and P being the usual suspects, and a cameo from M. A & Boyf nodded off on the sofa, and after a while I decided to go to bed in the room next door to A. Was awoken not much later by A & boyf coming to bed, and some kind of wailing. Great, thinks I, last thing I need to hear being the sexual noises made by my friends. But, nay, the wailing was crying so severe it was leading to a panic attack...from what I could make out, A was panicking that she couldn't find her handbag. In her own house. Boyf was having to calm her down by tracking down said accesory and proving it was merely at the bottom of the stairs.
Weird.
Bugger, I meant to text Sinead. Didn't cause I sent everyone a group message, but wanted to send her a different one. Then got distracted. Probably by a shiny thing.
We could go down several paths on Friday:
(a) Trad Bolton commoner: Yates, Cottons, Tiger Feet, Dali etc. Then Ikon.
(b) New trendy type: Life, The Bar, Vague, etc. Then stay in a late bar.
(c) Old school sixth form grebbage: Varsity, Brass Cat, Old Three, etc. Then Hawthorns.
Or mix'n'match. Any preference at this early stage? The earlier we can decide what we fancy, the sooner it can be "set in stone" to avoid A meddlage.
Nord.

South dude,
A has decided to add her name to the birthday girl list on friday. I let this slide cause she wouldn't be up to organising anything to top our do.
Plan:
We start early with karaoke in the Clifton for those who fancy it. Then we shall proceed along the Gate of Bradshaw, sampling the ale in those establishments which most take our fancy, before settling on an establishment in which to pass the later hours (a late-licensed premises, or we have free Ikon-age vouchers).
Agreed? Any other business?
North dude

South personage,
I have received tickets in the post to a "special television preview". I am suspicious (potential time-share presentation con paranoia) but wonder, should my desire for freebies be allowed to outweigh my unease?
I scanned the picture into my computer. But my internet connection is the worst ever, hence I've not yet posted the picture.
Went into the Ole Three yesterday afternoon. It still misses our presence. The barman must be new as his spirit is not yet broken.
Birthday notes:
Not heard back from Ali. She may be sulking.
Fancy dress does not really mix with Bolton town centre...beating up potential quite large.
Where does weekend karaoke?
*head implodes due to lack of food due to entire kitchen contents being stacked in spare bedroom*
Why did my mother have to rip out the kitchen this week? Baaaah humbug. We could've house partied.
Any more ideas/contributions/issues?
*stalks off to hunt own nourishment*
neandernortherner