Finding Identity in 'Bourne

A warm blanket of cold greyness befitted the civility and class of 'bourne Friday night past. The occasional light drizzle is just extra garnish that gives the scene a sense of completeness. Weather like this entices, it encourages one to don a scarf and warm duds, seek sustenance that warms not only the belly, but raises our minds and souls to levels of ecstatic savagery that push the conservative and conventional aside.

One doesn't know where to begin when faced with such multi-layered possibilities. Debate may rage, but I say depositing oneself upon the street in good walking shoes and allowing the chill wind to blow you to a solution is best. Rowdiness and surging crowds are all well and good, but overlooking the small and calm is tom-foolery at its tom-foolerest. God was kind when she gave us sight, sound, and smell and it would be a sin to not use such senses superbly here, as they rarely lead astray.

How to comprehend all this? The originality of the local folk, dripping with a cool confidence and sophistication that should be freeze dried, vacuum packed and trucked to SinCity so I may purchase it from my local dealer. Their utter failure to exercise snobbery and conformity. The revelation that sometimes the best food can be sourced from the establishment with the grottiest seats. That a good drinking establishment must have a good story to go with it.

I cracked it my friends, I understood it. It's not complicated at all. Them down south there understand that to achieve a good result, one must know what one wants. Those wonderful 'Bournians have found their identity, and they celebrate it well.