The first I’d heard of a Dead Man’s Penny was by chance yesterday. If you know all about them you may want to skip to a digression at the end of the post.
You can’t beat a good digression and last month Edward Cholmondeley-Clarke gave us a world-class deviation in his talk to raise funds for the Benevolent Society of St Patrick.
My grandfather was shot through the back of his neck by a sniper at the Somme. He was fortunate not to bleed to death. Three other Bellews died and have no graves.
On the whole I had an idyllic childhood at Barmeath. I enjoyed the company of my mother, my grandparents and especially my much older siblings, though they were seldom around.
Last month, my theatre-on-the-doorstep LAMDA put on Design for Living, a Noël Coward play I’ve never seen but I was too slow off the mark to get tickets.
Oh dear, I’ve gone into reverse. Today’s post is about Saturday evening. Over many years I have had memorable meals in some pretty swanky restaurants, often paid for by a special friend.
I am staying for a few days in a village close to Burford in west Oxfordshire to explore the locality. Yesterday afternoon we went for a circular walk in Sherborne Park.
I was lucky enough to go to the old opera house at Wexford, in a converted cinema, about twelve years ago. This morning I’d like to introduce you to Margaret Tinsley who can claim with justification to be a genuine Wexford veteran and is a welcome Guest Blogger.