In the graveyard of All Saint's Church, Sutton Courtenay, a deep rumbling can be heard: the sound of a body turning rapidly in its grave.
My capabilities in terms of linguistics and literacy are not always matched by my prowess in history and geography. So it was that I toured Paris fruitlessly in search of the Bastille, which had I listened to my history teacher more carefully, I would have known was demolished shortly after quatorze juillet 1789
, before heading to Avignon, determined to cross the eponymous Pont d'Avignon
. There, I learned that I had arrived almost 400 years too late, as the Pont Saint-Bénezet
had washed away in almost Cowley-esque manner, but without Network Rail at the time, had not been repaired. As the weather was beautiful, I tarried awhile, before returning to Lancashire, determined to visit at least one famous historic structure.
In Wigan, I was again disappointed...