Whatever Happened To Shelley Cheshire

I used to go to school some distance away from where I lived in a rural area of South Worcestershire - Imagine the accent I had to lose when I went to college - and we all had to get various, rickety old buses from sundry points in the middle of nowhere. For most of the drive the view was of boring fields (boring to a teenager - I miss them now) but for one bit on the outskirts of one of the villages, it was all gates to big houses with long gravel drives, like something from the Jane Austen books we should have read but didn't. Anyway, the bus used to drop off one or two 'posh' young ladies here. I'm not sure why I'm mentioning this. I wanted to write a longer, Friday-type entry but time and circumstances have got in the way of that. Imagine early summer sunshine, green lawns and bus that would not seem out of place at a Crustys' camp near Stonehenge and you get some of the atmosphere.

No Spell Check again.