I once toyed with the idea of doing a blog about signs. They clutter pretty English high streets and are ugly. Modern life, pah! They even make me envy the French sometimes. Their discreeet signage pays far more respect to their heritage than we do to our (far more interesting) architecture. Anyway, I wanted my blog to become a repository of all the worst examples of signage, both funny ha ha, funny peculiar, downright ugly and, I suppose, beautiful (there must be some). It hasn't happened yet. Why should I spoil you with two places to be bored stiff. Anyway, some time ago I promised a friend who reads this that I would show them the Morlands sign on the side of a house. Since then, I have seen them all over the place: sometimes on pubs, sometimes not. I rather like them.
8 comments:
if one originally thought that sign was a pub sign, when first seen totally out of context, now - as one is led to believe - it appears to be all over the place, so it is obviously not a pub sign. . .
what it is? a brewery? sign of which shows designated places to buy ale?
(PE - yippee!!)
it must be a pub sign showing that the local brewery Morlands, which started in West Ilsley but moved to central Abingdon and wqas closed by Green King and in which I now almost live, supplied the place with ale. There are two pubs outside the brewery gates which both have it on their walls.
Much nicer than a hanging sign. But not so good for Pub Cricket.
PE?
Pizza Express!!!!
(the ONLY place my kids will eat if I want to take them out for a treat) (and then it's only garlic bread, dough balls and margheritas)
(I, of course, just have the chicken caesar)
I thnk I overdid P.E. (now I geddit). It make sme feel slightly nauseous whenever anyone mentions it.
Or ASK
Beep, you've obviously been going to classy bits of France. Down my way, all roads are littered with horrible roadside signs advertising "McDonalds Only Ten Minutes Away!", "McDonalds Only Five Minutes Away!", "McDonalds Right Ahead!", and so on. Ugh.
actually now you mention it.... and Brocante. As if one needed so much of it.
I was thinking more of the road signs. Almost totally useless and invisible: as they should be. And with GPS can become
Oo, the word "brocante" attracts me like a magnet. I love junk, I do. Plus I made a killing on eBay selling mirrors and other stuff from my local brocantes.
Ahh, those were the days, driving up and down from the south of France in my big Renault van, transporting all manner of worm-eaten tat.
Mm, worm-eaten tat.
Can't help you with the house, but I can confirm that PE used to be a dodgy pub called, if memory serves, the Coach and Horses. I once staggered in already pissed, bought a pint of sweet cider, and then realised two of my teachers were sitting behind me. They knew I was 16, I knew they knew I was 16; we exchanged a knowing look and said no more about it.
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