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Thatcham
Coordinates: 51°24′18″N 1°15′50″W / 51.405°N 1.264°W / 51.405; -1.264
Thatcham is a town in the historic county of Berkshire, England centred 3 miles (5 km) east of Newbury, 14 miles (24 km) west of Reading and 54 miles (87 km) west of London. Its housing and consequently population grew rapidly in the second half of the 20th century from 5,000 in 1951 and 7,500 in 1961 to 22,824 in 2001.
It straddles the River Kennet, the Kennet and Avon Canal, the A4 and the course of a Roman road. It is served by Thatcham railway station on the line between the larger nearby towns mentioned. Local employment is chiefly in light industrial premises, sales and distribution, retail and public sectors, see also West Berkshire, its district.
History
The area has evidence of occupation dating from prehistoric times and is listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the strongest claimant to being the oldest continuously inhabited place in Britain. The well-preserved remains of a Mesolithic settlements dating from 8400 to 7700 BC have been found in its vicinity. There is also evidence of Bronze and Iron Age settlements and of a Roman town.
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The Shame
by: The Blood BrothersMy heart is a black haunted loom,
weaving jackets for children who'll never be born.
My hands are abandoned factories
manufacturing heartbreak and hate for the world.
As we waltz the broken dance of our limbs
this ballroom has been groped by so many evil whims.
As I drill the last hole into you,
the well of your body has hardened into glue.
Everything is going to be just awful when we're around.
All the colors gonna rot off your sight when we're around.
I remember the day that I sold my smile to that nice couple
who lost their first child.
I threw in a set of sympathy,
and a bucket of popcorn for the cemetary.
But now my face is all fenced off, the sky is boarded up,
the hills covered in drop cloth.
How many chords till this song vomits out real love?
How many feathers to pluck naked the soiled dove?
How many whores till you send away for that trophy?
And how many punches till you give yourself away for free?
Because those bruises on your face look like the sun setting in disgrace.
(From these cliffs you can see the whole city
laid out groveling like a field of wounded soldiers.
The billboards in heat and hissing,
the sky scrapers stitching the gash of the earth.
As they waltz the broken dance of their limbs
their ballroom has been groped by so many evil whims.)
Everything is going to be just awful when we're around.
All the colors gonna rot off your sight when we're around.
I am just a salesman pleased to meet you can I show you around.
Every thing must go the shadows the seagulls when we're around.
This is our shame.