Well, it's been a while. I once forsook the (Sq)wirral for the bright lights of London town, and for five years I was seduced by the Big Smoke, but now I've come to my senses and returned to the motherland- sorry- peninsula.
So this is the point at which I should reveal an astonishingly exciting and scurrilous secret about life on The Squirrel. Sadly the cupboard of scandal is bare this evening, on account of only taking up residence at the weekend.
So perhaps instead I can educate the uninitiated in the ways of The Squirrel?
The first point to note is that you are never "in Squirrel" or "on Squirrel" but "in The Squirrel" or "on The Squirrel." This is owing to the peninsula geography of The Squirrel. Let me explain: A peninsula is a finger of land surrounded on three of four sides by water. In the case of The Squirrel it is a land mass which huddles between North Wales and Liverpool, bathed in the waters of the rivers Dee and Mersey and hangs onto Cheshire for dear life. Hence it is "The Squirrel Peninsula", or "The Squirrel" for short.
Part WAGS playground (Caldy), part chavs paradise (the north end) it's a strange little almost-island which over the years has spawned Paul O'Grady, John Peel and Nelson's bit of crumpet.
On that glamorous note I'll bring the first entry to a close.