I’ve lived in the same rented flat for the last 11 years. It is one flat out of three. I live at the back, so I say out of the way and avoid the others.
Over the years there have been a few people in the other flats, and I’ve never had any problems with any of them. Then a nutter moved in.
The route of legend, Route 66, runs from Chicago to Los Angeles. Some call it the Main Street of America, and some think it an American Icon, the sort of people who don’t know the meaning of the word “icon”, obviously. Anyway, it runs for nearly 2,500 miles, and is the subject of entitled peoples’ road trips.
The PCW8256 was the first computer that I actually got paid to work with. My mum’s friend’s husband wanted to computerise the records from his window cleaning business. The year was 1985, and child labour was still legal then.
So, in my foolish plot to expose myself (not in that way) to more music, I have followed the advice of Jon, and subjected my self to Bob Dylan’s Desire (again, not in that way).
Well. Firstly, I have to say I’m not really a Dylan fan (apart from his work in The Traveling Wilburys). But, what the hell, I gave it a listen. Here goes…
The Twisted Brain Wrong Of A One Off Man Mental
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