Last night there were skinheads on my lawn. Take the skinheads bowling, take them bowling. It’s all very well for Camper van Beethoven to say, and it’s only in the past two years or so that it’s been a problem here in Ballard. Prior to that, taking the skinheads bowling, or anybody else for that matter, was simple. These days, not so much.
I’m not much of a bowler. I think I probably peaked in the early 1980s at the Ten Pin Bowling place in Weston-Super-Mare. At the Sunset Bowl, I had more success knocking back pints in the bar than I did knocking down pins on the lanes. But it was usually a good time. And like most folks, I preferred the bowling alley, when it was open, to what’s there now, and what may arise at some point in the distant future.
I’m guessing the “I’d rather be bowling sign” spoke for a lot of people, and I’m sorry that it, like the Sunset Bowl itself, has disappeared. Now, instead, there’s an Art on the Fence installation that’s spreading like a rash, looking rather like trash that blew up off the street and got stuck in the fence. But perhaps that’s the idea.