A High Street History Lesson

One of my many surreal moments.

We were in town, walking down the High Street and got shouted.

Long story longer…David, our Rhodesian friend, and I got talking about the history of the town. He is fascinated.

Of course I start with Tennyson, pointing down the street to his wife’s childhood home.

Bloody Hell. David grew up in Rhodesia and his local school was named after Alfred, Lord Tennyson. True.

Then he asked me about The Hangman and if he was just local or travelled about. I tried to explain about The Phoenix Park Murders and the hangman travelling to Dublin to do the dirty deed but I might’ve gone too far, too soon.

Picture this. Me gesticulating and jabbering all over an early Sunday morning street to a 70 odd year old man wearing a completely bewildered look on his face.

Shrug. He’s asked me to tell him all that again sometime :o)

P.S. I’ll have to remember to say where WM was buried (a local church, up the street and round the corner) and how his gravestone was moved because of trophy seekers!

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