I possibly chose the best week to take a bunch of A/L.
The plan was to write – and I have been, thankyouverymuch! – but mostly the urge to explore in the sunshine proved too irresistible. All I knew about Lewes was that it was supposedly 'quaint', a few train stops away, pronounced 'Lewis' not 'lose' and home to one of the largest and scariest bonfire night celebrations in the country. It's not only pets that are advised to stay indoors, but children and adults of a weak disposition also, because of all the Wicker Man style shizzle that goes down. So I've heard.
I like this. Restricted part of the keep, Lewis High Street beyond, my curious shadowy mug and sunlit grounds behind me.
Petrifying to a klutz like me. Luckily there weren't many others around to witness me clutching on to the banisters for dear life.
...Or to see me making the most of the dressing up room.
Back to normality with fags, booze and manly crisps. Whew, was worried I was getting all cultural and civilised for a moment.
Join me next week when I'll be looking through a periscope at
(I figure if I say that now I'm more likely to get round to writing about it).