
I was tidying up my hard drive last night when I came across this picture of a hippie (spit) getting battered in the face with a riot shield.
I think there's something immensely gratifying about the sight of hippies (spit) being on the receiving end of police brutality. It also reaffirms my faith in human nature and demonstrates one use of my taxes that I wholeheartedly approve of!
While we're waiting for the new crop of pictures for the gallery (hint, hint Karen) here's some site news. I've taken the Lovechild Story page down as a truncated version of those events will now be incorporated into the next chapter, which I'm hoping to have finished and uploaded soon.
Also, since chapter six was uploaded I've been advised that I got my facts a little confused regarding a certain incident. This has now been rectified.
Tatty-bye until next time.
My Photobucket account, where the gallery pictures are hosted, averages around 8 to 10,000 hits a month and refreshes on the 8th day (which was also, according to the track on the 1983 Kiss album Lick it Up, when God created rock ‘n’ roll). I just checked the stats and it’s on 18,161 and we’re only five days in! The figure has also increased substantially since I started typing this. Can anyone shed any light on just where the hell all these visitors are coming from? There's been no major increase in traffic on the main site and it’s got me totally baffled!
Incidentally, I’m currently waiting for a whole new crop of vintage photos to arrive. Check back over the coming days for those (that’s provided I have any Photobucket bandwidth left; over 10% of this month’s allocation has been used up already).
I had a totally unexpected - though much welcome - surge of inspiration early on Sunday afternoon which got the bile pumps operating at full capacity once again and by the time A Touch of Frost started last night Chapter 6 was firmly in the can.
Having slept on it, corrected my more glaring grammatical errors and given the thing a final once over it's now up on the main site in all its splenetic glory.