Very short blog entry, but must record that just after midday yesterday , for perfectly good reasons which I won't go into because it would spoil the story, I found meself telephoning home to Ann :-
"Hello Darling. I'm in Felsham Post Office. Where aught I to be?"
Shades of G.K. Chesterton?
4 comments:
Should perhaps end the story, though. After getting an exact address from Ann, the Post Mistress was able to tell me I was about four hundred yards from 'where I aught to be', directed me, drew me a map, and three minutes later I found the place. Been there several times before, but a series of 'Road Closed' signs and 'Diversion' signs had got me thoroughly 'discomknockerated'.
The Council & Highways Authority have no consideration for those paying council tax and buying road-fund licences.
Shouldn't worry though Mike, I can't recall ever being where I aught to be ~ can't imagine how I've avoided the chokey all these years ~
its even more disconcerting when you go upstairs, stand on the landing and then wonder why you are there!
...and if you are on your way up or down:)
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