A grey West Norfolk day and what do we spot while out on patrol, me driving and the boss in the turret, but a Jolly Roger fluttering in the Fenland breeze; thankfully there was no warning shot across the bows.
The Fens are a bit like the sea, if not the Spanish Main, in terms of the proportion of land to the large sky and on a clear day you can see for miles, up in the crows nest probably even further. If you think of the farms as ships the concept almost works.
The tattered flag below looks a little like it has been ravaged by grape shot but the Jolly Roger made us smile, even the skull seems to be smiling. Time to lay in a course for the Admiral Benbow.
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