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Returning home yesterday afternoon from the far north eastern corner of the Dengie Peninsular in Essex, I saw this sign at the side of the road near Bradwell-on-Sea. Obviously amused, I carried on driving and then, after a mile or so decided I really should've photographed it. So I turned back, and very intrigued I carefully opened the makeshift box that had painted on it 'Bulls Eggs In Here'. Of course it contained boxes of hen's eggs, but I now know that the owners of the chickens are David and Ruth Bull. How do I know? Well, after buying half-a-dozen eggs I drove back home to Leicestershire, and a hundred miles or so later I came to a halt on the A14 at Cambridge due to an accident. As I sat there waiting I thought I'd check my shots. Of course I would've done if I'd had my camera. I hadn't, because it was still sitting on top of the egg cupboard in Essex. But after a very long haul back and a spell of furious googling by my girlfriend, I eventually arrived back at the egg box. No camera. But a man carrying buckets of eggs across a field (the gate had 'Beware Of The Bull' on it) stopped and stared at me. "Are you Mr.Bull?" I called out, "I'm Peter". He put the buckets down and shouted back "Then I'm just about to reunite you with your camera". Thankyou so much Mr & Mrs.Bull, thankyou Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Full acknowledgement will be rendered elsewhere. Right, where's my egg timer. Phew.
How romantic, a castle on a hill in winter sunlight. But where is it? One clue might be that a big BBC Sunday night serial was filmed here in the early eighties. And that it's neighbour could not be more different in character. Extra toast for the name of the programme. With Tiptree's Orange & Tangerine Marmalade.
Two enthusiams in one. Here is the donations box for the Gloucestershire & Warwickshire Railway, a preserved line that runs from Toddington, where the box is, through Winchcombe to Cheltenham Race Course. I'm not quite sure where Warwickshire comes into it, but I believe the 'The Honeybourne Line' as they now call it once ran up to Stratford-upon-Avon in the neighbouring county. This beautiful Victorian pillar box has now been repainted in the Great Western Railway's original light and dark stone colours, as is the footbridge behind it. Which, if you're ever in this delightful neck of the Cotswolds woods, you'll see couldn't be more complementary to the landscape. I've yet to travel on this line, but intend to do so this year as the GWR celebrates it's 175th anniversary. Toot toot!
Ludlow, Shropshire, Sunday morning. What could be better. The sound of Housman's bells cascading down over the rooftops, little old ladies with prayerbooks hurrying back to cottages up shaded alleys, early spring sun lighting up brass letterboxes on gloss painted front doors. And then look what catches my eye in the market place. I was going to self indulgently show you the Dinky Toy 3 ton army lorry I got for eight quid, but thought this was far more edifying. I thought we could scan the shelf and see how many we'd read. I just have, and am ashamed to admit it's only one. But which? I'll think of a prize for the first one there. Probably a dog-eared Penguin. That'd be novel.
In line with Commentator Diplo's request for a monochrome photograph of an Up-to-Date Puzzle Location, I give you....? The only help this week is that it's a location within the borders of my most recent travelling (qv). I didn't stay at this inn, but the place it's in does give rise to many thoughts about the current nature of the contemporary English village. Of which, of course, more later.
Just a quick one, as I'm off now to the Welsh Borders (well, the English side that is: Herefordshire and Shropshire) and will be out of range of the Blogosphere radar. But I thought you'd like this, a very uncompromising shed on the hard at Tollesbury. And yes, the side view shows it's got a corrugated iron roof. The only sound is the constant tap-tap of wire against aluminium masts and the voices of blokes in overalls tarring boats shouting nautical / weather notes at each other. One of my very favourite places, south of Tiptree which means you can call in for tea and scones at the jam factory served with a jar of Wilkin's 'Little Scarlet' strawberry preserve. Right, off to Offa's.
I thought I'd try something different for this week's puzzle picture. Instead of rummaging through dusty books for old photographs, I thought for this 20th in the series (please tell me if you're fed up with it and I'll think of something else) I'd get you guessing where I was yesterday afternoon. Clue: unless I'd got a handy rowing boat, I was sixteen miles away from a pint in the Rose & Crown.
Returning home yesterday afternoon from the far north eastern corner of the Dengie Peninsular in Essex, I saw this sign at the side of the road near Bradwell-on-Sea. Obviously amused, I carried on driving and then, after a mile or so decided I really should've photographed it. So I turned back, and very intrigued I carefully opened the makeshift box that had painted on it 'Bulls Eggs In Here'. Of course it contained boxes of hen's eggs, but I now know that the owners of the chickens are David and Ruth Bull. How do I know? Well, after buying half-a-dozen eggs I drove back home to Leicestershire, and a hundred miles or so later I came to a halt on the A14 at Cambridge due to an accident. As I sat there waiting I thought I'd check my shots. Of course I would've done if I'd had my camera. I hadn't, because it was still sitting on top of the egg cupboard in Essex. But after a very long haul back and a spell of furious googling by my girlfriend, I eventually arrived back at the egg box. No camera. But a man carrying buckets of eggs across a field (the gate had 'Beware Of The Bull' on it) stopped and stared at me. "Are you Mr.Bull?" I called out, "I'm Peter". He put the buckets down and shouted back "Then I'm just about to reunite you with your camera". Thankyou so much Mr & Mrs.Bull, thankyou Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Full acknowledgement will be rendered elsewhere. Right, where's my egg timer. Phew.
