Yes I know, I am not a keen sharer of petitions because I have the feeling it never helps and I must admit, even this one will probably be of little interest to you but today I must act. I urge you to sign a petition. I just did, wholeheartedly. You see, I am what they call an anglophile, I love England.
My first gold watch, I bought it in 1989 at Ratner’s in Norwich. So many good memories come back now when I pick it up to look at it.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could go back in time and hop on my pushbike and speed down Kett’s Hill and turn left into the city center to go there again.
It’s safely tucked away with all the other good memories now.
I was rummaging through my night stand and found this old photograph. I thought it was gone but I must have hidden it too well a long time ago. It’s probably the best picture I ever took in England. This is a moment of utter happiness visualised, after that I never experienced anything like it.
The Old Hall in Little Plumstead burnt down on 14 August 2016 and was consequently demolished, they believed it was arson. This story is to remember Old Hall as it was in “the good old days” when I lived there with my friends. I will never forget the good times we had.
The Grey Lady
Old Hall of Little Plumstead has no ghost and it isn’t haunted. At least not on the inside. Well, there is The Grey Lady of course but she is roaming the grounds outside Old Hall: “Near the stables and the duck pond she can be found, crying.” as the story goes.
The history of The Grey Lady was once told to me by a dear friend, Liz, who got it from her mother Susan who, probably, has heard it from her mother as well as it must have originated from sometime during the first half of the 20th century. Well, aren’t most ghost stories?
The Old Grand Dame will be returning downstairs claiming her rightful space in the living room today. Good, wholesome, old-fashioned, trustworthy British made quality. Not just a record player but a work of art.
I am quite thrilled about the new story I am currently writing, The Rider of The Black Horse Inn. I got the entire story in my head and just need to transfer it through my keyboard to my website and later to my book. It will be figuring a pub in Norwich, the place where Christa and I had our first proper English pub dinner on our honeymoon in 1996.