Julius Caesar's ill erected bloody tower

There we were enjoying a quite drink overlooking the Thames when there was this barked command that made us all stand to attention - and we stayed that way for the next three hours! A great visit to the Tower of London after lights out to witness the ceremony of the keys which we are assured has been going on without fail for 750 years. A ceremony accompanied by much information, some witty banter, some abuse of the Americans (and why not --- sorry Marylew) and absolute, bitter, unadulterated hatred of the French with the Italians coming a close second. When the chap behind you is about 10 feet tall with shiny black boots and an automatic rifle you tend to laugh in the right places OR ELSE. Walking round the various towers and the inner and outer defences, buildings that have stood the test of time for 500 - 1000 years could certainly teach the modern builder a think or two. Do you really think the gerkin, or Red Ken's glass palace will still be here in 100 years let alone a 1000. We were regaled at great length about Englands most effective anti terrorist (bloody French again) weapon, namely the running sewer that the moat had become.
The evening almost closed in the cloistered luxury of the warders' bar but the temptation to say things about losing one's head after a couple of drinks would be just too much to resist.
7 minutes of the keys, not just any keys but Queen Elizabeth's keys and then back to draw the raffle. We know the Queen never carries money and now it appears she has a special man to carry her keys (just in case)
Then of course there was the little matter of the American who bought the wrong bridge. I know they are a new country but I sometimes wonder about our transatlantic cousins. First they buy a bridge and complain that it does not do what it said on the tin because they put the wrong code into the web browser and came up with a different one. Then they take said bridge and rebuild it in a place called a Lake which is actually a desert swiftly followed by a couple of ocean liners that they bury in concrete. Maybe they might have been better off if the likes of Columbus and Raleigh had never discovered them and they could have gone on smoking potatoes in peace
Of course we came unstuck on the way home with no trains going to our station and having to make a detour after our hostess and guide had legged it down the platform to catch a departing train as it was pulling out of the station
I think on balance it was just as well that she had her LARGE mixed grill with double sausage on the side before we had the presentation about the condemned man being fed his own bbq'd entrails

gradual realisation

'The trouble with Facebook is that it takes up so much time (I blame Mrs Claus) and you give out all your news on an immediate basis with no time for considered comment at a later date by blog. At least that's my excuse for almost three weeks since I last updated the world. Actually, life after Costa del Gatwick wasn't at all bad and we had much better weather than they did in the Algarve, lots of sunshine and no rain. Mrs Claus does like her sunshine, which living close to the North Pole we get quite a lot of for 6 months a year but don't do too well for the other six. She says she suffers from SAD which sometimes I quite agree with. It does stand for silly and daft doesn't it? Anyway since we couldn't get to Portuguese sun we went in search of English sun and spent some great time with a virtual friend and her virtual dog who got on very well with Hugh the reindeer. You know Hugh has been neglecting his sleigh exercises recently and looking at his photos I am beginning to have serious doubts as to whether he is a reindeer or not. Do you think he looks like a reindeer? Some people say he is a dog, even a greyhound - I just can't believe it. Does this mean that the whole Santa thing is just a delusion? Have I been mad for the last two and a half years - and if so who the heck is Mrs Claus? Just thinking about it - we only meet for 15 minutes in the morning and she is never there at night and when we do spend time together she is always chatting to virtual friends on bl---y FACEBOOK.
I must be suffering a complete identity crisis
Dear reader please help me through this complicated and worrying situation and tell me who I really am - that is if dear reader you are not imaginary as well
Two nights ago I dreamt that someone was going to send me a parcel and so convinced was I that it was of crucial importance I went down to the letter box at 3.00 in the morning to check
HELP!!!!!!!!