National Trust

The National Trust was created for Sundays.
Sunday is not a day. Friday night is the second day of the weekend. Sunday is like a big blob of glue that is just there to hold the week together. It’s horrible. Just like the National trust. The old NT just holds bits of land together. That’s why they go so hand in hand.
Oh sure, protect the riches of England’s past by taking withered fruits around on tour buses with a Kentish bitch tour guide called Lynda or something.

I could be all NME about this and think of it as classical and romantic, the sort of thing Docherty and Moss would do on a weekend.

But it’s all bullshit. And this is the bit that I don’t get:
Why is it the children of the revolution, the spouse of the 60s, the 70s and the youngons of the 80s – after so much rock and roll want to walk around country houses and their grounds?
“No people –  you’re not John and Yoko.”
In all truth the National Trust should really be closed down now, but people still go.

Oh it’s such a lovely middle-class day out. Barbers, wellies, M&S picknicks and photos for photo-album’s sake. Earl Grey and carrot cake.

But it’s all very Mark from Peep Show.
Unfortunately for my friend, he is actually Mark from Peep Show. He’s 50 in a teenagers body. Well I say teenager. He looks 5. He also has a ladybird for dick as a point of reference. Some people say I’m like Jeremy, which I could be all like ‘yeah man’ about, but as much as I love that show, I wouldn’t want to be or know either of em.
My point is why do people live outside their generation? Mark does not live in his time.
The same argument could be made about a lot of people today living in 1969.

But still, I’m being dragged off whilst Im all grounded – grounded in boredom. Missed 2 parties. Now Im being walked around the national trust.
Oh well, I’ll take an old camera and make a black and white film accompanied by Norwegian massage music that will be broadcast on BBC4.