I've just started writing a monthly column for the online magazine Harrogate Confidential.com entitled Single White Female. It's about, well, being single and, I hasten to add, includes a great deal of fiction, just in case anyone thinks otherwise! On Sunday they held a great party at Katana in, surprise surprise, Harrogate. The food was out of this world and, to coin a phrase not to say trot out a well worn cliche, a great time was had by all.
Those of us who make our living through the written word, sweating over the precise content of a press release and fretting about the old "who, where, what, when, why, how" schtick, might want to take a quick look at this picture.
As I dutifully slogged my way through my local newspaper The Harrogate Advertiser (the Court Round-Up first to see if I knew anyone who had been shoplifting or speeding, followed by the Planning Applications, ditto, usually requesting permision to build a conservatory or convert the garage into a granny flat, both topics counting as heavy news round here) I was interested (ie fed up) to read a story regarding Harrogate Borough councillors bravely agreeing a 4.3% rise in council tax. How very good of them. The one ray of light in the gloomy darkness of the article was learning that my hard-earned will be not going towards a suggested £5,200 grant for 'floral displays' at mayor making ceremonies, even though one councillor felt the money was vital because these ceremonies are apparently attended by 'people from outside the district'. Indeed, so eloquent was her argument it felt churlish to begrudge such a footling sum in order to impress those dignitaries, presidents and crowned heads of Europe who even now are no doubt massed at our borders, waiting with bated breath for the announcement of the date for the next Harrogate mayor making ceremony.
Other big news? 'Planners turn down fence idea', a story about planners turning down a fence idea. Next week: Man makes tomato sandwich.