Coastalblog

The ominous disappearance of the shopfitter guy boded correctly. Despite telling us that he's go in the day we signed the lease he NOW says he can't go in for four (count 'em) weeks. Now this is bad news for a variety of reasons. We didn't want to be opening this late in the year as it was, but consoled ourselves that we'd at least have a little bit of bedding in time before Christmas. It's still doable, but only if we ourselves go in and do as much as we can before the professionals move in. Which is what we'll do. So, will Source be open in time for Christmas? Will my wife leave me due to being left with the boy all the time? Will my son recognise me when I get home of a night? Watch this space.

Hoo-fucking-ray. Sixteen months ago a friend and I were playing squash, as the game wore on we were gassing more than playing, and bitching about our jobs. Wouldn't it be nice, we thought, to work for ourselves. So we went and did something about it. Tomorrow we sign the lease and then, fingers crossed, tge shopfitters can get to work and so, hopefully, with good luck and a following wind, our deli/cafe, Source, will be open by mid November. I'm putting all these qualifiers in because it's been a long hard trek so far, and I won't believe it's happening until we actually open for business. First up we had an incompetent estate agent (we first looked at our sire over a year ago), then when we finally secured the premises subject to planning persmission the council's planning department got it all entirely arse about face, setting us back another two months. Now, very close to the finishing line, the man in charge of our shopfit has disappeared ominously (well, he

After some sad news, some good. Quieter than usual round these parts recently. This is not for lack of things to mention, I fully intended pouring scorn on York council's foie gras ban, telling you breathlessly of my actual encounter with an honest to goodness member of the Ormskirk and West Lancs Model Boating society (The president no less), extolling the soaring success of the mighty Fort, pointing out the amusing irony that the smug fuck who brought that case against An Inconvenient Truth is himself a vested interest, what with his legal costs being backed by a mining company and all. All these things and more. I have, however been a trifle busy. The cause of such industry and monomania, is, as a reasonable proportion of you are doubtless already aware, my boy, Ethan, currently two hours shy of beng a whole three days old. I'm not going to gush. The parents amongst you will know what I'm feeling, the rest of you, presumably,will find out, and the last thing you need is