Whilst some people may be disappointed to learn that I'm not a 'welfare sponger with a political axe to grind', I am, nonetheless, a barely employed celebrity millionaire with an old throbber to thrash. So this afternoon I whipped it out and took a sunshine tour of our lovely tip of Kent.
It seems the old dirt track in King George VI Park has had the tarmac treatment and is now a bit of a cycle path (the old jokes are best). On to Boredstares, where York Gate has now been repaired following lorry damage a few weeks back. Still no height restriction sign there, though. Harpers Wine Bar looks to be in action again until midnight most evenings, after their contretemps with the licensing authorities a while back.
The de-duallling of Fart Hill in Margate seems to be causing the odd jam.
New 3 tonne weight limit signs on the ramp over the underground khazis are presumably there to prevent the town gaining an unplanned, er, bog hole.
Margate sands baking in the sun. A litter picker's work is never done, given that most Margatonians seem to regard anything more than a two foot treck to the bin with their garbage as something only a person with the fortitude and stamina of Sir Ranulph Fiennes might undertake.
Droit House looking its loveliest. What a shame the clock's only right twice a day! Still, on the bright side, I was in Margate for at least an hour and I didn't spot a single fire.