What’s that spitfire, you mean something like this?
1 Like
Yes, I would like to be near the ocean again. I miss everything about the ocean and the good memories made with my Dad
3 Likes
I would like to go back, and have an uncensored argument/discussion , but, then return here. 
1 Like
On yer bike Spitty
Quite so, the Son and I are off early in the mourning =. 
1 Like
To Buckingham Palace.That’s where I belong.All that idle living with wealth, power and no responsibility.I’m sure I was dumped in the bulrushes when I was born.
1 Like
But then an Egyptian Princess rescued you ! So why are you complaining
I think you must be mixing up with some fictional character.
That’s fighting talk Moses
Calm down.You need to keep taking the tablets.
why I outta…
ok
1 Like
I belong where ever I am at!
1 Like
I couldn’t afford it, my parents’ house in Cheltenham where I grew up is now worth 1.2million pounds (according to one of those valuation sites)
2 Likes
Yes, I’d love to go home to London to live again, it’s where I belong
1 Like
Wherever I Lay My Hat …
2 Likes
No way, I love Devon, hated Slough.
1 Like
So did John Betjeman
Slough
Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
It isn’t fit for humans now,
There isn’t grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death!
Come, bombs and blow to smithereens
Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned minds, tinned breath.
Mess up the mess they call a town-
A house for ninety-seven down
And once a week a half a crown
For twenty years.
And get that man with double chin
Who’ll always cheat and always win,
Who washes his repulsive skin
In women’s tears:
And smash his desk of polished oak
And smash his hands so used to stroke
And stop his boring dirty joke
And make him yell.
But spare the bald young clerks who add
The profits of the stinking cad;
It’s not their fault that they are mad,
They’ve tasted Hell.
It’s not their fault they do not know
The birdsong from the radio,
It’s not their fault they often go
To Maidenhead
And talk of sport and makes of cars
In various bogus-Tudor bars
And daren’t look up and see the stars
But belch instead.
In labour-saving homes, with care
Their wives frizz out peroxide hair
And dry it in synthetic air
And paint their nails.
Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough
To get it ready for the plough.
The cabbages are coming now;
The earth exhales.
1 Like
I know he did & he was so right.
I Miss places I have lived, but I do settle anywhere after a few months…I only really want to be nearer the Sea in my heart.
1 Like