Heated seats. Dog-smelling coffee-smelling cig-stinking car, flashy. Jason. A strange, American name for a non-descript Yorkshire man meeting strangers on a society ramble over misty hot chocolate and, of course, as would be expected, inviting them immediately out on another daytrip.
Jason was not my friend. I came with Sarah. It was a kind of date, I guess, and she wanted a bit of support, safety, from a girlfriend. Someone to suss out the psycho. Which, as it turned out, was definitely present. Lurking in the shy, introverted man who engaged in innocent, wholesome activities. One might have met Jason in church. But no, we met him on a bloody-buggering-freezingcold walk.
I’d always wanted to come to this castle, so it was a bonus daytrip for me. Time taking pictures, while I still used to, while I still felt like there was some point to documenting our experiences, before I…
View original post 178 more words