tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197246072011-04-21T14:11:00.632-07:00Apollo Projecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11563510481697160960noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19724607.post-1134147876872040452005-12-09T09:04:00.000-08:002005-12-09T09:04:36.876-08:00This is a test post from <a href="http://photobucket.com/">Photobucket.com</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19724607-113414787687204045?l=theyoungsquire.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Apollo Projecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11563510481697160960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19724607.post-1134147404628347572005-12-09T08:50:00.000-08:002005-12-09T08:56:44.636-08:00I met the new squire this evening. He came in to speak to Martha before the parish meeting. I heard the big car pulling up outside and then he was banging on the door.<br /><br />I recognised him straight off with that cycling hat on his head.<br /><br />"Ev'nin', Sir Toby," I said.<br /><br />"Call me Dave," he said straightaway.<br /><br />"Right-o, Sir Toby," I said.<br /><br />"I wanted to speak to your wife," he said. He did speak posh.<br /><br />"You'd best come in then," I said.<br /><br />The news was just finishing, and the Archers were about to come on. I walked over to the radio.<br /><br />"You needn´t turn the radio off," he said.<br /><br />"I were going to turn it up," I told him.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19724607-113414740462834757?l=theyoungsquire.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Apollo Projecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11563510481697160960noreply@blogger.com0