aka Die Türen von Wernigerode
A visit to family in the Harz mountains, Saxony-Anhalt last weekend brought about an obsession with the town’s doors. Next week: The roofs of Goslar.
I think I’ve got it!
Would the lady who insulted me four and a half years ago with the quip about me falling in a shit-heap please give it another go. I’ve got the perfect put-down for you now.
Would you look at that… Belfast Newsletter a week last Wednesday – and the Impartial Reporter a week later. And all under a delightfully poetic headline.
Click image to make it readable.
Rarely been near a TV in years, but just spent a few hours in front of one whilst on holiday – Tesco, Asda, Iceland, Matalan, Poundland – it looks like this is going to be a fookin’ amazing Christmas! #consumerism
Ok, if you’re going to write to the Welsh Space Agency at least put the proper bloody stamp on. It cost me £1.50 to receive these 29 job applications for our vacant astronaut position from Year 6 at Newton School, Mumbles.
And what a lying bunch they all are anyway. The interviews will be interesting!
Dad took the controls for a while on the return to Welshpool following our fry-up at Sleap… One condition – I had the parachute.
This was Keri’s holiday reading by Aled Lewis Evans. Coincidentally, the cover model is Martin Roberts who used to play bass guitar in a band for whom I was the drummer.
Unmourned, but surprisingly gore-free, roadkill.
Universe A: Cerrigydrudion High Street with telegraph poles.
Universe B: Cerrigydrudion High Street whereby electric and telegraph technology somehow escaped us.
We took a break from endless house renovation this weekend to make a new bridge across the gorge in our garden. Our very own “Pont o Ocheneidiau” (Bridge of Sighs)