Hello everyone and welcome to the Hishtravingland episode 333, Adled.

For apologies for you everyone, before we start the history.

Some time ago I became aware of a sort of groaning sound coming from the village graveyard.

So I called the Vicka, who told me there was soil flying all over the place from my father's

grave.

On investigation, it seems the Mayhem was caused by my father, turning and indeed spinning

in his grave.

Because in the previous episode it was of course, of course, not Mr Pickwick with the financial

advice for James.

He was Mr McCorber.

I mean, I am shocked the times I was told it was Mr McCorber.

How could I make such a school boy error?

Secondly, I met Bell, who you may not know, but I met him on the lovely English social

and local history course I have finally restarted.

I met the department of continuing medication at Oxford, which is a triumph, by the way.

Now Bell is a member of this parish I learnt, so I have two things for which I need to apologise

that he pulled me up on.

One is for calling Northampton, the city of dreams, without really meaning it.

But a mighty fine place it is that I have no doubt.

The other, it's for a snide comment I made about the saints, always losing to the tigers,

for which my apology is that I can't find in my heart as a lifelong tigers fan to regret.

But it was a joy to meet you, Bill.

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