I have tried posting this six times in various forms. Once it even actually let me publish it.
Then it got deleted.
It is seriously doing my head in.
And it’s such a stupid little post that it really isn’t worth reposting, except that I am now determined to fight the ‘man’ or the ‘intarwebs’ or something or bloody other, and I WILL WIN.
I will start again.
At Gardenbarn (where I was very keen, as you cannot fail to notice), I loved everything. Well almost everything. Everything except one thing. Well, two things really.
I found them here:
Everything is fine until you get two thirds of the way up.
Then you see them.
The troubling ones.
You do see them, right?
HA! I thought you did.
Yes. It is two ‘people’, and I use this term under advisement, made entirely out of shells.
I know there was a fad in the Seventies for sticking mussel shells on empty bottles of Mateus Rose, and turning them into lamp bases, and I found that a bit troubling. You have no idea how troubling I find these individuals.
I don’t think they are particularly happy themselves. See. One of them has the tricycle handles in his/her grasp, ready to run away from the hideousness.
Only it can’t, because it is hideous too.
I am planning on taking the children here over half term. When I do, I shall ask the nice lady who works in the coffee shop to put a blanket over these two. For the avoidance of nightmares.