Traveller. Writer. Photographer. Lover...alas, not a particularly adept one. Person. Glasses wearer. Sandwich eater.
I don't claim to be any of the first three, but I do enjoy taking photos and writing when I can, and travelling often. My travelling is unfortunately paid for by myself alone, having not convinced the travel world to bare any fiscal burden. One lives in hope. But then it would become routine and I would travel upon the penchant of my overlord, and perhaps aim the writing at a particular jaunty angle to satisfy potential readership of something horrid like Balls-Out Magazine, a magazine for the discerning yet adventurous kilt wearer.
I enjoy all manner of sandwiches, and over the years have sampled over six different ones. Five if you don't count the a brief liaison with some hedonistically out of date olive bread. I don't do olives. You'd be seriously hard-pressed though to beat a Cheese & Pickle sandwich, the pickle of course being plucked from the Gods that own Branston's pickle in the UK. No other pretenders or gherkins are welcome to the party, no-sir-ee. I'm quite adamant. I could never be swayed!....bacon, you say?
I don't claim to be any of the first three, but I do enjoy taking photos and writing when I can, and travelling often. My travelling is unfortunately paid for by myself alone, having not convinced the travel world to bare any fiscal burden. One lives in hope. But then it would become routine and I would travel upon the penchant of my overlord, and perhaps aim the writing at a particular jaunty angle to satisfy potential readership of something horrid like Balls-Out Magazine, a magazine for the discerning yet adventurous kilt wearer.
I enjoy all manner of sandwiches, and over the years have sampled over six different ones. Five if you don't count the a brief liaison with some hedonistically out of date olive bread. I don't do olives. You'd be seriously hard-pressed though to beat a Cheese & Pickle sandwich, the pickle of course being plucked from the Gods that own Branston's pickle in the UK. No other pretenders or gherkins are welcome to the party, no-sir-ee. I'm quite adamant. I could never be swayed!....bacon, you say?
