I’ve been quite sick with a cough recently (when in England, go out in the damp, develop consumption and waste away romantically, as ladies do…), so I haven’t been up to much. Turns out acetaminophen is called paracetamol here, and cough syrup tastes of licorice and has a 7.7% alcohol content. If I wasn’t so miserable, it would be delightful.
I finally got around to looking up the “Cleethorpes Imperial Flying Club”, an enticing name on a local building that I pass on the bus. Something to do with airplanes, I assumed, knowing that there is an annual air display – knowledge gained from postcards in the shops along the seafront, source of 90% of my local intel.
Turns out it’s a pigeon racing club. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice said.
Speaking of the skies, my UK to Canadian English Interpreter has written a post on a local WWI zeppelin air raid shelter on Atlas Obscura. It took us two days of searching to find the site, as mentions of it online were not particularly specific and the kind and informative ladies at the tourist information center hadn’t heard of it. We finally found a street address in council records, as it is a listed building. It’s in an alleyway behind two rows of houses, closed off by a gate held shut with a bungee cord, which we were very careful to leave the way we found it. A really interesting piece of local history; it’s the first private air raid shelter in the UK built specifically to protect against zeppelin attacks after 31 people died in a bombing of the local baptist church.
So many unusual things to discover, if you’ve the time to look.