It seems the police were correct to allow a legal rave at Cockley Cley with only minor offences and one possibly unforeseen major casuality reported after the 18 hour dance festival. The noise pollution could be heard quick clearly in North Pickenham, an odd bass rumble backdrop to the usual serenity.
The seven mile road journey is under five as the crow flies, the stillness of a lovely early autumnal Saturday evening wafting the party poundings unfettered.
This weekend had enforced, yet pleasant, sightseeing tours on local buses with elevated views of Breckland from a double decker bus after a kindly boy in blue reminded me that my MOT was more than two weeks overdue. Advice taken and fine duly paid. What I was unaware of, however, was the apparent Zen like philosophical conundrums on board the ticket touting transport.
Thought provoking.
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