|...in the bottom drawer|
|I knew I'd lose it so I put it in a safe place, and now I can't remember where it is.|
|currently stashed in: Cheshire Street, London|
|about me || email me || RSS feed || give me a present || A blog about urban planning, if that interests you|
November 20, 2004 || 5:37 pm
My first brush with the Greensboro police department! for that most American of offenses, the 'open container law'. Which basically means that you must not carry an open container of alcohol in the street or in your vehicle. So a late night, tipsy walk to the gas station to buy toilet paper, of all things, with two of us clutching our cups of bourbon, means that we attract the attention of the one bored copper circling round town. Being English, he blames my American friends for 'letting' me walk around town breaking the law. We look suitably contrite and he gets his small kick from telling us off, sending us on our way with a warning not to walk around town at all. 'Three good-looking gals and you two guys, there's guys round here that might notice you and I'm not sayin' you can't fight, but I'm not sure you two guys could hold off four or five guys'. Like, where on earth is this fear of crime coming from? We are literally two blocks from home and there is not another man, woman or dog on the streets.
|I'm an urban designer and regeneration consultant with my own practice. At other times I like playing the fiddle, eating and writing.|
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|some of my friends:|
Museum of Wonder
The Beacon Lives
Daniel Flatauer's potsblog
Peter MacLeod's latest project
why aren't more of my friends web-literate enough to have sites?