Walking past the Lyneham shops you may spot a gypsy caravan that has parked itself, and set up shop in the belly of an old bakery, called The Front. The sign outside says it's a café and gallery, but once you step inside, intrepid explorer, you will discover it is much more.
It is a place where Uni students down coffee while hunched over laptops, endlessly studying social networking sites.
Where writers, actors, sculptors, public servants, door repairmen, lawyers, accountants, conspiracy theorists, maniacs, musicians, pipe dreamers, moon watchers, sunshine junkies, rainbow thieves, thugz 4 lyfe, burlesque dancers, basket cases, geeks, circus sideshow refugees, painters, poets, pirates, masseuses, baristas, horn sections, belly dancers and fire twirlers gather in droves to talk and laugh, create and mutilate, swap stories, ideas and saliva, hurl hugs and abuse while bleary eyed on midnight chai and cider binges.
It is a place where art openings turn into all night parties fueled by live music, skipping ropes and bubble blowing. It is the kind of place where you show up for an album launch, and end up doused in body paint and fed pancakes. Of a night passing by you are liable to find yourself caught up in poetry slams, stand-up comedy, music of every possible genre, photography exhibitions, video installations, puppet shows, theatre both experimental and traditional.
People are free to be everything or nothing, free to talk off someone's ear or sit quietly in the corner on any number of couches, inside, outside and occasionally upside down. Be yourself, or be someone else. The Front Gallery & Café: The beer is cheap and the love is free.
When quizzed about what The Front meant to her, co-proprietor and head of security, Ariel the dog was heard to bark at a passing motorcycle and demand someone throw her a stick.