“I don’t know where else I can go, Over, Over”


An easing of Lockdown to allow me to to stay overnight in Carluke and Caersws can’t come soon enough; the appeal of Huntingdonshire is wearing thin.

That’s not to say little Over is without charm, even for this Charming Man.

On the other side of the sign there’s a pashmina
Reaching chintz overload

Over is Proper Fen Edge, a mile out from the slowly-emerging New Town of Northstowe.

A good start, anyway
You’ll know this area as well as Manchester, soon

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before; frankly they could change the name from Over to Willingham or Earith and you’d be none the wiser.

One main street, one pub, one shop (a Premier rather than a Co-op) and four tonnes of thatch and roses.

Some of you like these pics
In the Flemish style
Spot the human
H.C. Hemington would make a nice micro
Meet me at the cemetery gates

No-one on the streets, but a heartening number of gentlefolk and children out on bikes into the Fens.

Spot the windmill

One Two Tone van, one Community Centre bar with Wherry on last time I was here, and one hard working Wells local with Wainwright and Atlantic on the bar and a food takeaway service hopefully keeping them afloat.

Meat is Murder

You wouldn’t spend your holidays here.  Or perhaps you will.



6 thoughts on ““I don’t know where else I can go, Over, Over”

  1. There were so many Smiths songs referenced in this blogpost I thought to myself, “Well I wonder… should make some crack about ‘that joke not being funny anymore,’ but then I decided no, what difference would it make?” (Martin, it was really nothing. Please, please, please forgive me for being such a thorn in your side okay I’ll stop now)

    Liked by 1 person

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