22 September 2017
I was following a supercar the other day around Colchester; just me and the McLaren in front, and all the gridlock of that time of day that came along as well. Now I do like a super-duper car, and they look great when they’ve been greased up and flung about a racetrack by Jeremiah Claxon. But I saw my favourite Ferrari driving about the shonky roads near Bala a few months ago, and I fear it may have looked ridiculous, dodging potholes and covered in the colour of Wales.
But that McLaren, burbling along in second gear, looked great, all vulgar and magnificent. It’s what Wagner would be busting around in if he was re-animated and given adrenalin.
Anyway, that was my quick trip back to the flatlands of my homeland, and it was great. Essex brings good tempo (gridlock aside) and raises the voice.
Lots of congratulations to the newlyweds that drew Anna and I back there, and at least two apologies to the fabulous new wife, who’s great train kept making me think of finding some tent pegs… Continue reading “The Brothers Blogge”