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GRAVE CONCERNS. In search of rare ales one weekend in the Cotswolds, we came across an interesting graveyard packed with headstones that seemed to have been arranged by someone who'd obviously beaten us to to the bar counter. |
| REDLAND STATION. Our local station was the where I started every morning's multi-staged trip to work in Bath. Sure, it was nothing compared to the arse-numbing 90-minutes-each-way slog I had to contend with via London Underground when I worked out of Heathrow Airport when we first got to the UK, but that was then. A bit more about the station is here. |
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DEATH IN THE AIR. Or should that be 'garlic' instead? We'd dressed up as a couple of suspect characters for a Murder Mystery evening with friends. I was a French wine-grower and L was my Italian fiance. It was a good night out, packed with outrageous accents and ridiculous berets. Well, perhaps it was just me... Anyhow, a good opportunity to practice the lost art of 'tache-tip twirling'. That would have been just me again, then. And can you figure out who turned out to be the murderer? You guessed it... |
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