These days, all the civilised world is looking at the events in far distant Africa.
Sorry, but they are not just thinking about new political solutions for poor people there, but watching an almost endless airing of football matches.
I believe it must be a kind of magic dream for so many fans around the globe but for me it´s a bit boring, I really can´t see any passion about that.
Well, let´s talk a bit about Keinshire town.
In fact, this place has always been a very quiet one. A small town upon a streaming river and a pond with ducks. There are some ancient cottages and very few people. And that´s all. Oh, we have the not so distant cliffs and the Channel. Storms coming from far into the sea brings the humid and cool air while strong winds revolves the leaves of elms and rowans.
Our main activity, and it was for hundred of years until the Great War, has been the farming.
As in many other counties of England, by the middle half 19th Century, we had some coal mining and steel production, but endless Labor strikes and young people going to the new bigger cities for better opportinities set our flourishing business back again to sheep and cattle. But we don´t look back in anger, to the present day we still have the best wool sweaters all around England.
We had, and still have, the same esence of all English country towns and we share with them a common trouble: boring.
We tried all: cricket, golf, rugby, football, horse riding, wolf hunting, canoeing, sailing, bicycling, women ( I mean cheating) and beer. No way. There´s no way out of feeling incredible useless as time goes by and the only thing you can do is expecting the sun to go down and think about dinner and then to bed.
Television watching was not a solution either, ITV, Channel Four, Granada, those names only remind me about trying but losing.
I lived in this for everybody else but me lovely place for all my life and still looking for a bloody thing to feel alive.
I was in the War, my friend, I was one of those proud men who could say that helped to free France while being launched over the bloody Normandy waters. I had a rifle in my hand, a steel helmet on my head and two big holes in my boots and fought against those crazy maniacs. Oh, God, those where the days! But they are over, and I barely remember the last day somebody came here to the town to see my face, shake my hand, put some tin medal on my coat and go away as quickly as he can!
Well, but it´s not all about boring and sad things, surely not. Most people is quite interesting here, good mates and funny people to meet with. All in all we are a proud town and have a good and particular history, an icredible one, indeed. That´s why so many tourists come to see us, maybe they are here just to learn if all that theyheard is true or it´s just such a kind of English nonsense.
So wellcome to the bloody place! Let´s go to the local pub, get some stouts and enjoy the tales!
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