This Is Not A
Well, I certainly paid for my exertions last Thursday, didn't I? I've felt fit for nothing these last few days, but had to force myself out this afternoon to go and collect a repeat presciption from the pharmacy at the bottom of High Street (marked as 2. on the first map on this page).
Having got my life-saving essentials from Sławo our Polish pharmacist (and I can't help wondering for how much longer we will have the services of that fine man if the lunatics currently in charge of This Happy Land™ have their way), I made my way slowly back up: 'slowly', because I forced myself to go slowly; I've had to learn these things the hard way of late.
So it was that - although I had passed this particular sign at the entrance to a sheltered housing block hundreds of times over the years - I noticed something not quite right about it.
(Apart from the fact that there are two signs in proximity to one another which don't even agree on the name of the flats: the other calls them Tai Owain).
(And what's with all those initial capitals as well?).
Still - as the late and greatly missed Victoria Wood might have said - "it's all botally tona fido"...