I travelled down to and along, for some way, to the Heads of the Valleys Road, its in Wales, I was asked to go and do some work there, drawing squares as per usual, and on one estate where I knocked on 3 doors to speak to the occupants all three were still in their sleeping clothes, pj’s or dressing gowns. This was around 10;30am for fucks sake, haven’t these people got work to go to, of standards to uphold. I put it to you that they absolutely haven’t and consequently rather than write an essay on the sights and sounds of Ebbw Vale and Tredegar, which are to be honest pretty grim. No disrespect to the people who live there, aside form the people in dressing gowns at that time, I say get a fucking grip, to those people. But as the shop fronts and the high street is full of boarded up shops, tanning salons, bookies, charity shops all serviced by an awful Witherspoons pub, an old cinema, as most of them are. Seems culture has been surpassed by anti socialism and complete lack of culture soaked in a frothy pint of vinegary tasting nearly off bitter. To say Tim Martin is a leech like parasitic opportunist who rips the heart out of communities is true, and to say the British seem oh too pleased to accept the fact seems also true. From the heads of the Valleys Road you can see the various routes snaking down valleys and around hills like multiple octopus tentacles, and in the sunny weather I suppose this place might be a fairly pleasant place to visit.

Today blight, depravation, desperation and social disparity ring around these valleys; hairdressers sitting in their windows playing on their phones and waiting for something to happen, as the new road forges deeper across the heads of the valleys, heading west, to the coast I suppose. I wonder what the future holds for this once proud industrial area, a massive area with a massive headache. 

But then the rain does make everything look pretty grim when you’re out working in it…

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