I parked up in the market place last night, between the kebab shop and a Chinese take-away called Golden River (erm…I thought ‘Golden River’ was a fetish foreplay: the kind of thing you pay extra for, in a brothel or bordello). The market place is, apparently, where the young people of Driffield congregate, after the pubs have shut on a Saturday nigh: shouting, screaming, fighting, vomiting and eating crap food (though not necessarily in that order) into the early hours of Sunday morning. Which is why some drunk beat on the door of the van with his fist about 2am, and ran away laughing. It’s amazing how quickly you wake up when the adrenaline is pumping. I’m surprised I got back to sleep at all.
Went to Quaker meeting in Malton this morning. Meeting is supposed to be peaceful, but a woman turned up, twenty minutes late, with two dogs and a hyperactive child. I won’t be going there again…
Licensed today: kite-surfing and offshore wind turbines at Redcar...
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