Coast, coast, and some more coast. And dramatic pauses, in which to APPRECIATE the vistas.
I appreciate the warning in the church (distorted and squished onto a wooden board as though the preacher hadn't thought through the word spacing, so instilled with righteous venom was s/he): 'Keep thy tongue from evil and thy lips from speaking guile'. Words to be heeded. And listened to through ear-trumpets linked to the pulpit mouthpieces, introduced when one Reverend had a deaf wife.
I appreciate the Anglo Saxon princess named Hild. I bet she was an armoured beauty with balls, who would think glass slippers, crystal tiaras, and long golden locks both impractical and ridiculous. And she would have slept on something far more character-building than my luxurious princess-bed at our coastal cottage. A cottage where I cannot indulge my inner Catherine Morland - we don't find mysterious chests that suggest murder, rather mini-action figures, chewing gum and cigarette lighters. Whitby Abbey is where Catherine can reign free however. Spying sunlight through the windowless arches, where the GOTHIC is shot to a level beyond. To a level of heavenly-hell, where the eye is drawn...
I really appreciate Ancient Warrior of Scarborough, where 'all flails have grease on the balls'. Thank goodness for that.
I appreciate the lovely man that was Alfo Lieth.
I appreciate Cagoules most of all.
3 comments:
But at least my feet are dry............and in lifting the head the vista can be viewed.
History doesn't say whether Hild was an armoured beauty with golden locks. She did patronise poets - i.e. Caedmon - and, remarkably, her brother-in-law was King Anna of East Anglia.
No way! Father, these are the Things you should Tell me. The IMPORTANT things. Excellent trivia, well done.
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