somewhere in an english church

  

somewhere in an english church

in silence

passing through

colours

and candles

and lights

and flowers

and pipes

 

somewhere in an english church

in silence

passing through

the black monks

and the high  

and the mighty

and the lowly

and the dead

 

 

somewhere in an english church

 

 

 

in an english country garden

a secret garden

Dear Sheddists,

no music, no food (bar a selection of nuts and crisps), no slot-machines ... just good old-fashioned beer! The Wellington is a little gem of a pub in the heart of Birmingham.  Its fantastic and ever-changing menu of real ales is a thing of legend.

What better way, then, to prepare for England's semi-final skirmish with Croatia. 

Accompanied by my friend, Clive, we headed upstairs to the roof-top garden sandwiched between the raw backsides of neighbouring office buildings. The big TV was already in place for the match but we much preferred to focus on the liquid entertainment.

Clive fell quickly for the dark, seductive charms of 'Plum Porter' whilst I favoured 'Pig on the Wall', one of the house ales.  A few sherbets later we made our way for the bus home and some delightful sausage sandwiches laid on thoughtfully by my dear wife.  The football was ultimately to prove a disappointment but that did not detract from a day well spent!

Yours as ever,

electrofried(mr)

We came, we saw ... we drew 1:1

 

A field somewhere in England