I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore. Here the house numbers are clumsily spray-painted onto the houses. The privet hedges are untamed and are swallowing up the (already fucked) gates, entrances, the lot. When I finally do find the rusty latch and force my way through the undergrowth, I have to negotiate a path through the piles of children's toys and 'Farmfoods' carrier bags stuffed full of soil (?). I exit this particular close soaking wet (the privet tends to hold a lot of surface water which brushes easily onto me) and with scratched hands. Today I encountered Lancaster's only front door that opens outward, a painful experience. There are also a surprisingly large number of letterboxes installed upside down. They tend to remove that thin, sensitive layer of skin just below your fingernails. Mans stupidity to man.