Olive Road

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Olive Road was a quiet lane in the small seaside town of Little Regis. Built on the once marshy lowlands of southern Inglund some time before the war, amazingly this unremarkable little place had missed most of the bombs survived almost completely intact, unlike most of the surrounding towns and cities which had been largely flattened and were mostly unrecognisable. Recently though, it had become a kind of bargain basement tourist trap.

Little Regis was to most people an uninteresting town where nothing much ever happened. A sort of black hole where old people retired to and; ‘people of a lower class live’ as some say – the kind of place you end up by accident rather than choice, perhaps by taking a wrong turn off the motorway and were never able to find their way back to reality, but I always thought that was a little unfair.

The truth was somewhat different, as Little Regis was home to a number of very interesting people – what you might call ‘ordinary folk’. There were butchers, builders, bachelors, grocers, gardeners, electricians, spinsters, widows, uncles, aunts, grandparents, families and children and one or two retired engineers, bankers, doctors, dentists who wanted to get away from city life. Little did the people that looked down their noses at Little Regis from the affluent surrounding towns and cities (now mostly rubble) realise, that these so called ‘ordinary’ people and families, would end up doing the most extra-ordinary things that anyone had ever seen on The Blue Planet. You see, Olive Road, and the people of Little Regis were never ordinary at all and Olive Road would one day become the most famous road/cul desac in the whole world.