I HATE LIVING HERE. It's the carnage I can't cope with.
I Hate Living Here. It was all so easy. 18 months ago we had 3 rooms, a balcony no bigger than our dining room table and a view over a patch of grass with an endless scurry of squirrels and limitless droppings of pigeons. Both probably died and we never knew about it, or even cared. We never needed to know about the lives of either sheep or cows, but they always looked pretty content. Life was good, and generally easy. The corporate body got someone to cut the grass. The pubs and its clientele revelled in offering unasked for gynaecological lessons on a Friday night, with the less occasional study of urban mammography thrown in for free. If you are not very tall, there are often only 2 things at eye level on a Friday night. Here, if I want to cut the grass it is a mere 10kms going back and forth taking about 2.5 hours. If I want a drink in a pub or have cup of coffee it's 20-minute drive, but at least the beer is better than it was 13 years a...