My most recent little mooch
Carrying on round the bungalow trying to find a way in my attention was diverted
So nothing much in the other outbuildings, time to try and get in the bungalow. This is not an explore for large boys and girls, a very small window that wouldn’t fully open. Do I? Don’t I?
I hoofed my camera bag through landing it on the single bed
I had burnt my bridges
I had crossed the rubicon
Now that was fun, scrambling up and squeezing through head first, preying I didn’t get stuck.
The momentum of my upper body shot me forward like a constipated turd being released after a double dose of Stool Ease for dogs.
“Shit” said I, thinking at some point I’ve got to do that in reverse, let’s hope the undergrowth is as forgiving as a wet minging carpet.
Some serious mould spreading throughout gave the air a damp feel and odour
Bits of home made art and equipment still in the bungalow
Memories of Wales.
A fantastic postcard from 1954,writing home to his parents as he embarks on an adventure of his own, aged about 21yrs. Love the quaint “Dear Mother and Dad”
Stuff collected through the years
Nostalgic snaps of former family times
So that was it waving bye bye to pudsey on the way I managed to slither back out of the window onto terra firma.