Sharing my doom with Grandi – it is considerably more fractal and isotropic than I had ever expected, to the extent that he spent a full minute laughing at my predicament. Still, at least he’s helping me out.
Burwell Castle is not the manicured historic monument we’re used to, its a bunch of bumps in the ground covered in nettles and grass. The only indication of its importance is a few tattered information boards overlooking the ditches around the perimeter.
There are few better ways to tell the world what kind of character you are than losing the back end of your beamer in an ill-considered drift on the way in to the Tesco car park.
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