First of all, my apologies for being unusually quiet these last few days : put it down to my cold (what many of you have charmingly called "man-flu"), the foot deep snow and sub-zero temperatures, and the fact that the Lad has been stranded at home revising for his exams and monopolising my desk. I have another task demanding my attention - more of that next week - but I am pleased to be squeezing in a Sepia Saturday post and, on Sunday, making time to call in on Mr Toast's Second Annual Christmas Tea which this year will be taking place at Torosay Castle on the Isle of Mull. But first I need to travel south to Somerset and to my Sepia Saturday post :
Without intending to do so, I seem to have set off on the virtual trail of my mother and father and their 1930s motorcycling tour of the South-West of England. This week's photograph shows my mother (and I think that is Charlie Pitts again) and is marked as being taken in "Blue Anchor". This will almost certainly be the West Somerset village of Blue Anchor, which, like all good villages, is named after the local 17th century pub.
As far as I am aware, I have never been to Blue Anchor. Once the GLW decides to edge her way in the direction of retirement we plan to try and visit parts of the country we are less familiar with. I will make Blue Anchor a priority destination, the sound of that pub is just too attractive to ignore.