The feeble musings of an incompetent, middle-aged, baffoon who is embracing eccentricity and trying to raise some money for a nice charity. I like the word philanthropy, tweed jackets and the smell of Diesel fumes. Slowly turning into a mumbling recluse.
Sunday, 10 July 2011
This emerald isle set in a silvery sea
Sunday evening: a bottle of beer, a laptop that is a bit too hot on my lap, Dad watching 'Miami Twice' and I'm pouring over a map on the United Kingdom planning my route. Maps a pretty items, also lovely to look at. I can here strains of 'Jerusalem'
Where's the York stopover for sausage and mash?
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