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Going… going… gone





It’s always a sobering experience (yeah, roight) when that shutter slams mercilessly shut.

“Have yize got no home to go to?” shouts the ungrateful publican, whose Maserati Quatraporte we’ve partially funded over the years, with a great sense of duty, at no small risk for the optimum functioning of our liver…

So we did put an end to the proceedings. The rest of the solving of all the world’s problems will have to wait for another session.

It has been another great year for the Big Nose Club.
May there be many more!

Once reminded of that elusive home we were meant to go back to, I climbed onto my trusted bicycle (trusted in so far as it is fitted with an autopilot for the return journey from a BNC meeting) and cycled away the pints and the impending frostbite.


4 thoughts on “Going… going… gone

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