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Volcano love


Been quiet round here of late for work-related, and then holiday related, reasons. Of these I shall divulge little. Suffice to say, should you find yourself in the staffordshire village of Cotton, bugger off for a bite to eat at the Star Inn sharpish, and you will be a happy person. Conversely, should you find yourself in the otherwise blameless town of Leek, avoid the Foxlowe at all costs. Trust me.

So, what news? Well, medialess as I have been in the blessedy mobile-signal free, shopless retreat that yours truly has been holed up in for the last few days I only found out about the giant cloud of volcanic ash covering the country yesterday. I had suspected something was up when strolling down to the aforementioned Star for a (really quite good) beer and the sun was a frankly jaw-dropping shade of pink, but only got filled in n the details when I got back to the world of news access (I hear young Clegg did rather well, good for him). And the point of this post is this:

whilst I feel for all the poor souls whose holidays have been well and truly rogered, isn't it rather awe-inspiring that occasionally nature turns round and does something like this? Hi humans, I'm going to fuck your travel plans for the next week and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. Nothing. So you may as well sit back, relax and enjoy the colours I've laid on to make up for it all. Shut up, have a beer, look at the sky.


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