tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6644918126688721788.post545137560356814351..comments2024-03-29T07:54:24.161+00:00Comments on TONE DEAF: Road and more roadRoderick Robinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16828395545197001637noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6644918126688721788.post-16917076988359115002016-11-24T09:26:22.671+00:002016-11-24T09:26:22.671+00:00Avus: When convenient, yes. But I wouldn't hav...Avus: When convenient, yes. But I wouldn't have gone climbing in my best blue. Passers-by might have imagined preparations for a right-wing coup.Roderick Robinsonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16828395545197001637noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6644918126688721788.post-7752666198986396422016-11-24T08:35:47.588+00:002016-11-24T08:35:47.588+00:00I always wore uniform when hitchhiking when I was ...I always wore uniform when hitchhiking when I was in the army. It made all the difference to getting a lift. Fortunately a motorcycle soon put such behind me, but folk then always seemed happy to help a serviceman. I suppose most had been through it, one way or another.Avushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16512540148378201058noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6644918126688721788.post-21954298799058760972016-11-24T07:35:09.215+00:002016-11-24T07:35:09.215+00:00Checking the story, The Little Black Book, I find ...Checking the story, The Little Black Book, I find I wasn't as hard on Rhyl as I'd imagined. Or rather the dispiriting details - other than these two initial paras - were scattered thinly over the first thousand words and couldn't easily be copy-pasted. Never mind, Rhyl's true hellishness, mainly to do with its relentlessly repetitive architecture, does still exist and I must remind myself the short story was fiction, not an attempt at a guidebook.<br /> <br /><i>Rhyl’s streets unite to form wide grids; at full stretch houses at the other side of a grid seem toylike, indistinct. A well-ordered town, then, but not strong on variety. Nor is Rhyl a true resort. At the centre the sea seems distant, reduced to a utility, mainly ignored.<br /> <br />It was mid-November and Reger’s twenty-minute morning walk took in the promenade simply because its white railings and beach steps identified it as somewhere else. Otherwise he’d have done better running on the spot. Out on the promenade the wind was a torment.</i>Roderick Robinsonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16828395545197001637noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6644918126688721788.post-65427420576988731202016-11-23T15:37:14.733+00:002016-11-23T15:37:14.733+00:00From my Welsh boundary walk journal - My 2011:
Th...From my Welsh boundary walk journal - My 2011:<br /><br />The front at Rhyl was dreadful. Blaring amusement arcades and the sickly overpowering stench of food deep fried in rancid oil which seemed to hit you in warm wafts. I couldn't, bear to go into any of the cafes.Sir Hughhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17908756392825206914noreply@blogger.com