Part III (unedited)

As I climb the steps to this majestic wall I hear the sound of conversation. My ears are pricked, my notebook is poised. Unfortunately it’s all in German. I walk on regardless, my optimism not yet diminished and find myself overlooking my old university Right over the spot where, one drunken, first year night, I became William Wallace. I ran I crawled up the embankment, placed my hand upon that historic stone and cried ‘FREEDOM’ before being escorted down by two policemen. Luckily they had a sense of humour and I wasn’t charged with any terrorist activity.

That was so many years ago before a friendship became a relationship and a relationship became a breakup. The only evidence of our mutual love being our surviving son and painful memories of the two we lost along the way.

On to Monk Bar and the Richard III Museum

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It’s an interesting place. You can sit and listen to a mock trial where the cases for the defence and prosecution are delivered by audio. Having studied history I have always felt that Richard was the victim of Tudor propoganda and that the death of  The Princes in the Tower may well have been at the hands of other high-ranking characters. Of course that is assuming they were murdered, but that’s another story.

To learn more about this intriguing mystery I suggest you visit this site

I realise that I have a natural affinity with the ‘underdog’ which also explains why I champion the corner of Anne Boleyn who lost her head due to trumped-up charges of adultery and incest.

Perhaps I feel a bond with them having been misunderstood and falsely accused at times in my own life.

Ah….now I descend into self-pity. Onward.

And so I spent a pleasant hour with Richard III but my notebook remains empty of snippets. I haven’t managed to steal one sentence of conversation on my travels. However, I will not give up. On reflection perhaps my failure is down to choosing the wrong places or perhaps I don’t listen enough. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong with us. Who knows?




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