Traffic Wardens, Liquorice and Windmills.

Well, today I had my first run-in (ever) with a traffic warden. At first I just thought it was an unusually short man with some sort of device, then I realised it must have been "Casual Monday" as he was a traffic warden. In shorts. I hope it absolutely buckets it down today. In Pontefract. I was dropping the mother off at the bus station so she could renew my sisters bus pass. After what I imagine to be 3minutes and 31 seconds, the warden came up to the window to remind me that I had 1mintue and 29 seconds remaining. At which I pointed out that my mother was on crutches. He then saw her emerging from the bus station, and fucked off. The woman is a legend. She scares traffic wardens away. Even 'casual' ones.

Yesterday was the epic Liquorice Festival in Pontefract. Epic is not the right word. I think the word I'm looking for is... shit. Yes. Shit is just the right word. I had never been to the Liquorice Festival before, and I can see why. It was just a series of stalls selling either liquorice, liquorice parafernalia (sp.) or crafty shit. Plus, for some unknown reason, there was an african choir thing on a stage. I'm unsure what they had to do with proceedings, but people clapped when they finished a song, so I assume people liked them. Or hated them, and were clapping them because they had finished. Either way.

The evening brought with it a trip to the cinema. Being 20, I now have lots of choices over what film I go to see. In fact, I can see anything I like. Having said that, we went to see Bruno. It was rather gay. In fact, there was more nakedness than Borat. But, it was funny nonetheless. Windmills, in the title of today's blogg, refers to Bruno. If you see it, you will understand.

Ps. Who put down "boring" in the boxes the other day? hmmmm?