Friday night and the.feelingis right" "Ok Wigfield. That was a banger. But releasing the same tune re badged as "Saturday night and the feeling is right" used up all your ditzy appeal.
So, Friday night having it large in the Hanseatic port of King's Lynn on the Great Ouse. Or for most of the day and night the Great Ooze. Many, many straight, featureless miles upstream before it becomes big perch water.
I've always wanted a crack at Palm Paper with one of those magical sunsets but access is tricky. Friday's sky wasn't that spectacular but I snuck down and had a go. That's the A47 spanning the Great Ouse which runs from Birmingham to Yarmouth and lots of that is single carriageway. Norfolk is like the Hotel California, you can check out but you can never leave. Second only to the now divided Yorkshire in terms of land mass but not quite as bumpy as Ooop North. We hit the dizzy heights of 103 feet above sea level so eeh by gum you need oxygen up Beacon Hill. Most of Two Terriers country which this is, is probably almost below sea level so a stand of maize assumes forest proportions relatively speaking.
Back to the sumptuous Hovelodge to begun the gentle pre-load with a bottle of Abbott and Come Dine with Me on the box
Into town on the part lash ( I am old and with work colleagues so needed to rein it in a bit). This sobered me up before I even started so I needed some more neck oil to pull myself together. Shameful. End of. No time for bigots. Feck that "of it's time" mularkey.
Now this chap is playing mere lip service to that extendable feast for commerce when they palm off all the shite they can't shift on the great unwashed.
Fullers Quay all lit up like Christmas Tree
Nice coffee (Grey Seal) at Glandford on Saturday moning in the way home. And their artisan container office..
The Glandford roasted coffe was served in the Art Cafe, whch is a mine of comedy gold, from the anally repressed clientelle to the hapless trust fund teenager staff. I wish someone would change Word to English UK setting and proof the copy. Flavor my arse.
So, Friday night having it large in the Hanseatic port of King's Lynn on the Great Ouse. Or for most of the day and night the Great Ooze. Many, many straight, featureless miles upstream before it becomes big perch water.
I've always wanted a crack at Palm Paper with one of those magical sunsets but access is tricky. Friday's sky wasn't that spectacular but I snuck down and had a go. That's the A47 spanning the Great Ouse which runs from Birmingham to Yarmouth and lots of that is single carriageway. Norfolk is like the Hotel California, you can check out but you can never leave. Second only to the now divided Yorkshire in terms of land mass but not quite as bumpy as Ooop North. We hit the dizzy heights of 103 feet above sea level so eeh by gum you need oxygen up Beacon Hill. Most of Two Terriers country which this is, is probably almost below sea level so a stand of maize assumes forest proportions relatively speaking.
Back to the sumptuous Hovelodge to begun the gentle pre-load with a bottle of Abbott and Come Dine with Me on the box
Into town on the part lash ( I am old and with work colleagues so needed to rein it in a bit). This sobered me up before I even started so I needed some more neck oil to pull myself together. Shameful. End of. No time for bigots. Feck that "of it's time" mularkey.
Now this chap is playing mere lip service to that extendable feast for commerce when they palm off all the shite they can't shift on the great unwashed.
Fullers Quay all lit up like Christmas Tree
Nice coffee (Grey Seal) at Glandford on Saturday moning in the way home. And their artisan container office..
The Glandford roasted coffe was served in the Art Cafe, whch is a mine of comedy gold, from the anally repressed clientelle to the hapless trust fund teenager staff. I wish someone would change Word to English UK setting and proof the copy. Flavor my arse.
I'm glad word annoys you too. And poxy Microsoft. John
ReplyDeleteYou gave us half a story. Tell us about the bigot and your response, not the rest of your Mark E smith meets Will Self waffle. I hope you resolved the issue in the stylee of West Norfolk's "Street Fightin' Man".
ReplyDeleteIt was the plaque by the Jewish Cemetery detaling a massacare by jolly sailors on their merry way to the 3rd Crusade.
DeleteOh dear.
Delete