Posh End Of The Street

I was once told that I live at the "Posh End" of the street. Seeing as a few weeks before I was first told this I had stopped a fight between a drug addict and the pusher who lived a few doors away from me, a fight that had started across the road from me at about 8:30 in the morning, I guffawed mightily, then wondered what it was like down the other end.

Actually it's not that bad down this end, not now the local pub has really convinced the local alkies that "They. Are. No. Longer. Welcome." The people who live round here seem to be mostly quiet, nice, ordinary people. The drug pusher, he was an aberration, and more than a little thick. He had chosen possibly the most public place to push his drugs from and the half the buildings that did over look it were public ones including the best hotel here in Fenlandshire.

It must have been a dream for the police to stake it out.

A few months after I had stopped that fight, I came home one evening to find a police man standing on the road near my house moving on loiterers and stopping people passing. I explained that I lived "just there" so he let me through. I rushed upstairs, got myself a cup of tea and watched as the police went to and thro from the pusher's house to their cars carrying bags of evidence and with huge grins on their faces.

The pusher didn't come back, his house was used as digs for ambulance crews for a while before it was finally sold. It's been sold and sold again since.

Yep I live at the posh end of road at least I don't live next to a brothel like a boss of mine did. What got her was she never realised that it was a house of ill repute until it was raided by the police. Oh how we laughed.