Further round we dance, ducking under buckets of cold water, ricocheting off of obese men’s stomach, rippling past frenzied children kicking, mouldy crocodiles and a demonic stork, we make it back to the baby beach, apologising to everyone we get kicked in the face by. Read more →
As a very small child, I remember rolling down the hill beside it with wild abandon and being enchanted by its form. I’ve always had a *thing* for windmills.
It must have been that school trip to Wilton Windmill when I was very young that sparked it. I’ve always wanted to go back and so finding myself with two windmill-obsessed BUBs, last Sunday I suggested we go. Let’s just go, I said. Read more →