Back With a Vengeance

Have you missed me?  Well, I’m back in the Bubble.  I’ve been out of the country for a year and that’s why I haven’t blogged.  And before I hear any of you saying ‘Der, you can do it from anywhere in the world!’  The real reason is that I really just couldn’t be bothered.  Soz!

We’ve been in the States, mostly in New York.  The wife was given an amazing opportunity we couldn’t refuse, so we put the girls in boarding school (not entirely my preference) and off we went.  It’s been epic!  Obvs, not just a crucial supporting role for me. I had lots of very important film opportunities, let’s just say documentary type opportunities, to explore out there too.  Lots.

Anyway, I’ll be giving you the odd anecdote about my adventures state-side in good time, but this post is mainly dedicated to what’s the same and what’s different in Whitstable since I’ve been gone.

So, I’d like to invite you to take a little virtual walk along the High Street and around the famous sights of the town and help me re-familiarise myself with my adopted home and the people in it

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  • Bretts – Oh yeah. There it is.  I can feel my alveoli swelling with dusty gunk already.

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  • The Gorrell Tank – Still not repaired it then? What a surprise… Trade must have been good this year.  Not!

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  • The old Post Office sorting office – I understand there’s been all sorts of drama about this shutting and various doomed attempts to take it over as a community space. Simple solution that would really serve a lot of people like me in the town is to invite Waitrose to open a new store here.  I’m going to start a campaign!

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  • The Handsome Sam – Good good, another micro pub – shame it’s at the boring end of town. Probably give it a swerve.
  • Another café in Harbour Street – exactly what the town needs. As my office can be anywhere, the more alternatives, the better.
  • Another gallery – exactly what the town needs. Looks like they are actually attempting to exhibit good art too.  I’m in shock quite frankly.

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  • The Post Office has vanished!   And turned into a mobile thingy. Didn’t really use it to be honest – flattening that eyesore has made way for more much needed housing for people to relocate to the town.  There’s no going back to the way Whitstable was before (see previous post).  Embrace DFLs and enjoy the London cultural influences they bring!  The town needs their money.
  • 10842722-largeNew accommodation for unaccompanied young men at the old Ladesfield care home – been watching reaction to this on Facebook, particularly the volatile and mostly aggressive opinions on the group ‘Overheard in Whistable’. I think it’s quite right the empty building was used but it seems there is a lot of angry townspeople who disagree.  Negative opinions are mostly ‘not in my back yard’ right wing knee jerk hot air from what I’ve read. These children need to live somewhere! It’s only when you’ve lived in a truly multicultural city like London or New York – then come back – that you realise how bland the town is.  Come on Whitstable!  Let’s face it – you’re whiter than a vanilla Minimilk!  A diverse community is a rich community.  One of the happiest outcomes of the growing Eastern European community in this and neighbouring towns is the Polish food aisle in Tescos! Who can honestly say they don’t love that? No one, that’s who.  Looking forward to the Syrian, Iranian and Libyan aisles in the future.

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  • Another observation – distinctly less beards! Now this isn’t a bad thing for me.  I read an article in the Guardian which suggested we had gone beyond ‘peak beard’ and we’re now, as a society about to enjoy a new bald chin era.  It also suggested a phenomenon called ‘Negative Frequency-Dependent Sexual Selection’ – where women favour men with a different face-barnet to every other male in the room.  Well I’m alright then!  I’m one of a few with a great big beard in the town now.  Move over baldies – restrain your women – I’m back and I’m bearded! Lol!

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  • One thing I’m glad to see is no different at all: Georges Mini Market. A mecca. I’m not sure what we humble townsfolk would do without it.  I buy all my beard products in there for half the price.  You have no idea how expensive serum is in America!

Now this brings me on to a little anecdote about my time in the US.  There weren’t many beards around in the circle of friends we’d become part of, so while Pip was away one weekend, feeling homesick, I decided to go out in the city and see if I could grab an early evening beer in a place that reminded me somewhat of Shoreditch.  Sure enough, I came across a bar that seemed to have a higher than average proportion of similar looking beardies like me.  I had a couple of (to be honest, piss poor, weak) American beer and chatted with a couple of fellas at the bar.  I popped to the Gents and just as I was relieving myself, the young man next to me introduced himself as ‘Wolf’, then asked ‘Are you a Fozzie Bear lookin’ for love?’  I zipped myself up so quick I nearly became a eunuch!  I mean wtaf?  No!  So yeah.  Did a bit of googling on that one.  Looks like it’s a thing.  Not my thing, but it seems it’s not just the girls that love my face-locks.

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So, there’s two reasons why I thought I’d start writing my blog again.  First, the wife is away – we’re back in the country but she’s now working all over Europe, so I’ll have plenty of me-time to write.  Second, I’ve been roped into some project with a local woman who has suggested it would be a good idea to ‘drive up my stats’ before it starts.  Not really sure what she means or why, she’s keeping it all very mysterious.  But apparently my role as ‘fully assimilated DFL’ is core to the project.  Whatever.

Ah, it’s lovely to be home.  I’ve missed those sunsets!

Beardy-byebye!

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Whitstabooty – a Growing Phenomenon

Well, I was up in town for the beginning of the week.  Met Doug, my producer, at Bafta.  We snuck into a preview screening there and met a few old faces.  Then we had lunch with someone from the public funding body supporting the film.  Looks like there’s a possible link up with Artificial Eye with a view to a fairly decent theatrical release at Curzon.  Early days but trying not to get my hopes up.  Had lunch there – the eggs benedict is to die for.

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Went back to the Hotel in the afternoon and used their sauna, had a massage.  My back’s been a bit knotty since my last surf and the train journey didn’t help.  Had a kip, then headed back to Piccadilly for a quiet dinner with Miles, the Director, at Criterion.  If you haven’t been there you should.  Beautiful space, wonderful food and atmosphere.  I was back at the hotel by 10pm  for an early night.

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Day 2 was a day of budgets budgets budgets.  The funders asked us to justify certain scenes and locations, so me Douglas and Miles holed up in the hotel bar necking coffee until it was reasonably late enough to justify going to the pub.  All good.  I’d forgotten how much I like Hoxton.  Proper buzz about.  Saw a lot of people I kind of knew.  Film people.  Men with beards.  It became obvious, fairly quickly when we were two pints in and each talking to a separate person over our shoulders, that no more budget work was going to get done.  I took the paperwork back to the hotel and we carried on from there.

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We got rather intoxicated.  Not something I’d done with my London friends for a loooonnng time.  I think I had a really good time.  We had a bite in a nice grill place, then went to a bar.  I actually danced – just as well I’d had the massage or I wouldn’t have been able to move.

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Lots of very pretty ladies out that night.  Really fit, hot women, like I’d not seen for a while – not round Whitstable anyway.  Lol!  It felt very good to be out as a single man, but I forget how shy I get with women I don’t know.  Had a bit of a chat and a dance with one young lady but it didn’t go any further.  I was bladdered by then.

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Took myself off to bedibyes at the Hotel.  Saw my phone at about 5.30am when I woke up dehydrated with a stinking hangover and realised I’d had a drunken text conversation with Pippa the night before which I was completely unaware of!  I turns out I’d told her I miss her and arranged to meet her for breakfast at Carluccio’s that morning.  What was I thinking?!  I went back to bed, then woke up drenched in beer sweat ten minutes before I was due to meet her.

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She was not impressed I was 45 minutes late, or at the state I was in.  I must admit, I was ruined.  Just out of practice and too old!  Lol.  I looked at her face and felt depressed.  All too familiar.  She says she wants to come back for a bit, just to see how we go.  She’s got some annual leave.  I actually couldn’t be arsed to say no.  It was just easier to go along with it.  I felt really sick and just wanted to get on the train and go to sleep.  When we stood up to leave, I couldn’t help notice something really quite bad had happened to her.  To be precise, to her bum.

It’s become square.

I’m not sure when this happened.  It certainly slipped past my attention, but there it was.  Big and very, very square.  Another factor in the development of our relationship I’m going to have to adjust to.  Just like she’ll have to get used to my beard. In fact, the object her bottom most resembles now is a square, yet slightly curvy juggling ball.  Like these, but, obvs flesh coloured:

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I thought about the fit women I’d met the night before.  Pippa’s butt had once (almost) resembled that.  Roundy, sort of firmish.  Now it was just – square.

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See?  These are what the bottoms look like in London.  Perfectly roundy and fit.

When I got back to Whistable, the crappy rain had gone and it ws hot.  As I’ve been mouching about town – the very empty town – over the last couple of days, I’ve become aware that people are taking their clothes off – people that shouldn’t take their clothes off  for the sake of other people, like me, who have to look at them.  I’ve also noticed a disturbing trend – and begun to develop a theory – about the phenomenon of WHITSTABOOTY.  This must have been what has afflicted my own wife.

It’s the process by which a perfectly normal London bum, goes wrong once a DFL permenantly moves here.  Once I’d identified and named the trend, I realised THEY ARE EVERYWHERE!  To prove a point, I went out for a bit of field work with my long lens and this is what I captured.

WARNING!

IF YOU HAVE A HEART CONDITION OR ARE A FAINTER

DON’T LOOK!!

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Cargo pants.  Why?

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Your G might hint that you’ve been surfing.

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Your butt would suggest otherwise

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The classic cheesecutter.  Roxy stylee.

(It’s still a cheesecutter…)

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I had to sit down after this

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She was moving quite fast.  Lotta muscle in there.

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How much publically funded toilet tissue does one woman need?

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And why was she saving some for later?

Thankfully, she realised and hoiked it out.  Which was quite a sight.

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The ‘pincered skirt’ look before the poo-dip

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Mrs Whitstabooty goes down for the doggy doo, clearly demonstrating a basic grasp of yoga – clearly long since practised.

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And she’s down.

Absolutely NO ONE  should have to see this in their lifetime.

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Nice bag of doggy ploppings which she then just caried around with her for 45 minutes.  Hello?  Use the bin, BIG BUM!

Now, all these women were in every other respect like my wife.  Clearly monied, well educated, well groomed DFLs.  Yet they’d all succumbed to Whitstabooty Syndrome.  Maybe it’s a Kent-wide thing?  This article would suggest so Two Thirds of Kent Adults Have Massive Butts  Maybe they move here and just stop caring.  Who knows?  The depressing thing is that my own wife has it and she’s coming home.  Soon.

Very, very soon.

I just hope she hasn’t read this.  I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even know I’m writing it.

DISCLAIMER

I had absolutely NO PERMISSION WHATSOEVER to take these furtive arse shots.  I’ve always wondered, when there are items on local news, how cameramen get away with doing short depth of field shots of wobbly bottoms and jiggling beer guts.  Well, I know.  They just do what I did.  Get a bloody long lens and snap away! Lol!

Please don’t get all touchy about this?  Really.  You all think it.  You just don’t say it out loud.

Laters!  CK