This is the view from what used to be my bedroom window, often leant out of smoking crafty fags while I should have been revising for 'A' levels, but I digress. In the distance, on the skyline, is Keynsham, spelt K-E-Y-N-S-H-A-M.
Some readers will doubtless by now be scratching their heads in puzzlement and confusion, wondering if the old girl has finally flipped. Baby-boomers amongst you will understand immediately, and if I also mention the name, Horace Batchelor, then all will become crystal clear and you will be lost in a cloud of fond memories of your (misspent?) youth.
PS, no that's not a wreath of smoke in the foreground of the photo.