iaint

By iaint

Bayern

The day before Christmas. A Sunday.

Quiet. Very quiet.

I went out for my constitutional mid-afternoon. That felt strange, as it was 11c.

As I went past this Bavarian flag (a common sight) it reminded me of all the silly stuff back in Scottieland (and Ireland) about the Butcher's Apron, the Saltire, and so on.

Increasingly bizarre.

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