Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Thursday, 13 March 2014
I didn't buy two things yesterday, and I regret not buying just one of them.
The picture above (which is so bad that it should not rightly be posted on this international showcase) is of the original Assembly Rooms of Bath, before they were demolished because they were not big enough to hold the throngs of water-takers who flocked to the city later on in the 18th century.
I nipped into a charity shop here and found three framed, hand-tinted engravings. The other two were of Widcombe church and manor and the Maudlin Chapel on Holloway, and still appear pretty much as they do now, since they were not demolished.
I stared at them for quite a while, during which time I took the photo for reference, then - for some reason - I decided not to buy them, even though they were only £5 each. Yesterday, I realised that I would be an idiot not to, so I went in again to get them and - yes - they were already sold to someone who does not think twice when confronted with an obvious bargain. Back to being an idiot again.
The picture below is for John's benefit, and shows the recent addition of black-pudding Scotch Eggs to Waitrose's already bewildering array (sorry about the cliche, but it is accurate enough) of animal by-products on offer. I don't feel idiotic for not buying one of those.
John is busy burying his Uncle today (no, not a euphemism), so I don't know if he will have the time to pop out and consult his iPad to see the morsels, and I don't know if he will have the time to catch up and do the same when he gets home - he is, as you know, a busy lad.
The chapel at Holloway is a very ancient one, and is situated on a road with pre-historic credentials, close to Beechen Cliff and overlooking the railway station. Holloway is such an ancient road that it has a row of prehistoric standing-stones set in to the wall which forms the high pavement above which it was built. Many old chapels were placed on or near ancient holy sites, and the name 'Holloway' actually means 'holy way' (and sometimes 'hollow-way' for more defensive cut-outs). I have a particular affinity with this place, partly because of the event described below.
Many years ago, I attended a boring party high up on Beechen Cliff, and I left it - and H.I. - early, to walk down into town on my way home.
It was about 2.00 in the morning, and the night was warm and perfectly still, with a thickish, Summer mist which hung motionless in the yellow light of the street lamps illuminating the pathway down.
I stopped next to the chapel and the ancient tree to read a little notice board about the history of the place, and let out a largish fart.
I have to say for the purposes of this tale, that this was one of the worst farts I have ever emitted in my long career of flatulism, and a truly appalling and almost indescribably intense miasma of hellish, rotten cabbage began to surround me in the thick, still air.
I had not noticed a young couple walking down the hill behind me, and by the time I did, there was nowhere to hide. To run away would have been futile, so I tried to bury my face in the notice board.
As they strolled past on the narrow pavement, they entered my zone of influence (or effluence) and both simultaneously and involuntarily shouted, "EEEUUURGH!!!!", and did not say another word as they passed through.
And I bet you thought this was going to be a ghost story.