Posted by on Sep 24, 2019 in Uncategorized | No Comments

Other than the fact that it’s an attractive, smallish seaside town which happens to be the birthplace of Mary Shelley, I came away knowing very little about Bournemouth. This marks the nadir of my blogging neglect in the fifth year of travel. The islands of Guernsey and Jersey await but weather forecasts are less than favorable.


















All was well at the pub until a bunch of lads nipped out for a fag. Frankenstein followed as he had been having a jolly good time with his newfound friends. When they lit their cigarettes with gas lighters, the flames sent the monster into a rage leaving blood and dismemberment in his wake. Once again fire had ruined a good time. It was the story of his life, and he seemed destined to forever repeat this sort of tragedy until one day being consumed by it.

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