G is for Get Arff Moi Laaaand!

I saw this on the side of a house in the hamlet of Mapledurwell near Basingrad, earlier this evening, and there was still enough light for a decent picture, so I leapt out of the cab and took one!

He literally leaps out at you as you come round the corner of a tight little lane, but the way the building is angled, by the time you've registered him, he's gone, and you're driving up the road thinking "Did I just see that?"! Hackle and buttons say Grenadiers, and he's pretty-much life-size! And it must be the Devil's own task to keep the Virginia Creeper clear of him!

I is for Intellects - Vast and Cruel and Unsympathetic

I think we've seen some of this before, but while visiting Mr Morehead back in 2016, I shot it again properly, and it's been sat in Picasa ever since . . . there's still tons of it! Anyway, War of the Worlds, which was set, initially, on Horsell Common, not far from Woking, Woking seems to claim it as theirs, almost as hard as Mr. Andrew Windsor claims Woking as his alibi!

First landing capsule.

(beautiful brickwork)

A 'Glitering Machine'

Martain tripod

The valiant defenders

A Hawker Hunter

(Monday, 30 June 1958, RNAS Fulmar, Hall JHS, Lieutenant, RN

my uncle's coffin)

 

The microbes that made the difference.

 

The dedication plate.

Y is for Yarn Bombers! Fake Cover!!

Believe me - the title's the best bit of this one, but at least we're at the end of my self-indulgent day and there are mice! Woolly mice.

A tree got yarn-bombed in the late autumn, the drunks and yobbos had pulled half the mice off by the first weekend, but someone came out and knitted them all back on or 'in' or whatever you do to lose mice in the medium of wool?

That's it, there was a notice but I didn't read it, I regard this stuff with curiosity and have a mixed view of it, it's fun, but it's become a bit formulaic . . . it was amusing to see a town in Kent, or Norfolk or somewhere (someone else's town) having all its bollards woollyfied a few years back on Faceplant, but realising your own town is victim to the ten-thousand-and-something'th yarn-bombing attack is more of a yawn than a yarn; if you know what I mean!