Far be it from me to set up in competition with Dave's famed Saturday Sporting Prints series (clearly this is the close field set for him batting), so please don't think that. I bought the postcard above in Montpellier, our nearest large city, in a card shop so crammed to bursting with cards of every description that they explode outwards on to the narrow pedestrianised street and cause significant pedestrian traffic jams.
I bought it not merely out of a craven taste for the whimsical but because this was a French card, taken by a French photographer on behalf of a French postcard company for sale in France. This must say something about the French take on everyday life in the UK.
The multitude of armorial geographers who drop in here will place the scene immediately. All I can say is that once J. and I stayed there having foolishly mistaken a town centre hotel for one in the same chain by the airport. When we went out to view the civic amenities we were so horrified by the extent of fresh blood on the pavements that we scuttled back to the hotel. Perhaps we should have worn armour too.