I am happy when standing on the corner watching all the tourists go by.

They do so enjoy themselves. There is the family, out to see the sights. Mother pushes the large pram and tries to keep two toddlers under control whilst Father strolls along, stopping to take photos of sights of interest that, usually by accident, including some near-naked nubile nymph in the frame. Such fun.

There are other groups that gather around bus stops and try to decipher the time table in the belief that busses know of them, and will arrive as advertised. Statistics show that the average tourist will spend a quarter of their holiday poring over timetables, without once catching the correct bus at the correct time.

One has to admire the dexterity of youngsters who count how many times they can dart into the streets without being crushed by passing traffic.

Others saunter across the road, vying with other to see how many frustrated drivers sound their hooters at them.

These people must come from some wilderness where roads are nonexistent, and travel by horseback is the only way to get around.
I watched a column of Japanese visitors being led by a diminutive oriental lady holding aloft a colourful parasol. They marched to a position opposite Windsor castle gate, and I could almost hear their leader snapping . “ Halt. Left turn. Aim cameras. Waaait for it.
SHOOT. Down cameras. Right turn. Quick march.”

Very regimented, the Japanese.

Dress is optional during the tourist season. Mainly among the female of the species. Some are heavily veiled from head to toe in black material. They bring to my mind an Eastern version of cousin IT from the Addams Family. The more adventurous and exhibitionist of women parade around in something that possibly took two silk worms an hour and a single mulberry leaf to produce.

I felt sorry for one lad who had an upsetting experience near the castle gate. A voluptuous, near naked woman approached him, her massive breasts preceding her like a dead heat in a zeppelin race, and snarled, “What do you think you’re looking at?”

As if the poor lad had any option but to stare into the abyss between the mighty twin domes that had quivered to rest an inch from his nose!

Eventually she gave a scornful sniff and made her ponderous way to the nearby tea shop.

Windsor castle has an imposing and very photogenic main gate butting onto the road. People quite naturally think it is used to gain entry to the castle. That is not so. Visitors are pointed to a structure 75 yards up the hill. It is a replica of a certain area of Heathrow airport.

There are security cameras and metal detectors to pass through before proceeding into the castle grounds. There was an Alsatian dog that gave me a very suspicious sniff-over when I smiled at it.

I am pretty sure that many visitors to the castle are actually bound for Heathrow airport, and expect to emerge from the security building to find themselves in the departure lounge at terminal two.
So there you are. If you’re tough and enjoy strolling up and down the main street that climbs the hill at an angle of 45 degrees, then Windsor if the place for you.

About highamwriters

A group of recreational creative writers and if you ask us nicely we will let you publish some of our work
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