Rolling Frosty Hills

Rolling Frosty Hills
One more from Glasgow before I pack the laptop up with the rest of the boxes. Somewhere on the Loch Lomond drive I think (open to correction) there was a parking spot with a convenient amount of picturesque frozen stuff within spitting distance. Course, if you had spit, it would have frozen instantly and you’d have been left with an icicle hanging off your head. But I digress… Next post will be from wherever I can scab broadband from for the next few weeks. T’ra!

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