One Hundred and Sixty Six

North Greenwich Grain Silo's, London.

panoramius grainorama

get some new clothes...ium

canarius wharfum

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A two pence sized chunk of rusted steel dislodged from my hi-top dunk. As the wind caught the lifeless lump of withered metal, it struck the sweat painted forehead of none other than Jeeves Westminster. It didn't bother him. Well, it most certainly shouldn't. When hanging 200 foot from rusty ladders, ladden in pigeon shit I might add, the only aversion is generally the sound of sirens or the all too familiar fluttering bass drum of a police chopper. Naturally, the two of us urged her to begin the ascent, but she politely declined. There's no better, or infact worse distraction than following booty up a skirt, up a ladder.

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