Exploring Cornwall on an old bike….
A test run around the lanes past the alpaca farm…

With a bonfire of fleece….

Unlike Manchester where you need to search out a hill there are plenty here which are worth the effort…

Passing clouds of inconsequential observations
Exploring Cornwall on an old bike….
A test run around the lanes past the alpaca farm…

With a bonfire of fleece….

Unlike Manchester where you need to search out a hill there are plenty here which are worth the effort…

Wow! Within hours of the result of the referendum Brexit spam arrives…
Who does not love a fish finger butty? I know I do after an arduous morning’s labour it is a perfect lunch.
Tradition dictates that the butty should be created with the stodgy pap that supermarkets sell as bread although, apart from the name, it bears little resemblance to actual bread. This should be thickly buttered and then smeared with tomato ketchup. The frozen fish fingers should be well grilled and sandwiched between the two slices of bread. As you tuck in to your treat the heat from the fish fingers melts the butter that dribbles down and congeals in your beard (should you happen to be of the bearded variety). Bosh indeed.

Something I forgot to say while you weren’t listening…
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