And the wind cried Mary. Thank you

What? Has the boy gone mad?  These are supposed to be Floyd lyrics. Everyone knows Wind Cried Mary is by Hendrix. Well…..  Think again, dear reader. Truly there is a song with that title by the best left-handed guitarist ever, but there is also a song with a very long and unusual name by Pink Floyd that includes this lyric.  Which one?

Now the lyric has nothing whatever to do with the images, but I do not think I ever promised it would have. This is a follow up to the week in the Isle of Wight.  On, probably, rather than in. To be in it would imply a level of caving at the least, or mining.  We did neither.

Whilst on the island we stayed at the Priory Bay Hotel, which was a mixed blessing. Hotel and grounds, and staff were all great. Restaurant was a big disappointment, and it seemed the owner had totally lost interest and was selling up. It did, however, have a private beach, and a lovely statue (I am not sure that is the word, but I cannot think of another – Alzheimer’s probably) of two men in conversation on a bench – one of whom was Winston Churchill.

One thing coastal residents will tell you is that it is good luck when a seagull poops on you. When we were on Ryde seafront I was blessed with an enormous amount of luck, all in my hair and down my chest. I was overjoyed.  Julie got out a wet wipe quickly, but I told her there was no point – the seagull was long gone so there was no chance she could wipe its backside 🙂

Having recovered from the excitement I managed a postcard photo of the fallen Madonna with the big boobies, and also one of the hovercraft that provides transport to and from the mainland.

The days are getting shorter now.  All I need to do is find a gate to the park which opens before 8am to get in to the deer, or maybe to Attenborough for early light shots of swans.  Fingers crossed the next post will not be too long…

Remember to click on the images to get them full sized.

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