What ho!

Hullo chaps, Nottlesby here. Writing from deep behind Jerry. But not too, er, deep, and not too far behind. I've seen fit to remove myself to cooler climes, in the search for Adventure, and Excitement, and Purpose (too many nights lounging about my club smoking Havanas isn't good for the corpuscles, you see). 

So far there's not the deuce of a lot to report from these shores. Things have been a bit slim in the Action department too. I am taking a series of Improving Courses in the hopes of getting the local lingo up to snuff on the Nottlesby lips in the not-too-distant. I've been having rather mixed results to date, but then maybe a couple of saucy dates would be just the homework assignment I need. 

To that end (!), I'll keep making eyes at Pretty Young Things through smoky cafes and on the Underground, and will report details in all their sauce as things develop.

I found a Final Solution for my Saturday today and popped over to Wannsee to check out the infamous Villa and surrounds - and found it most enjoyable. If not a little macabre. The streets are clean, the houses stately and in fine repair, and it was a shock to the system indeed to stand in the very room where the Vile Hun made his insouciant decision to do away with European Jewry, and sundry others they didn't especially like, and then break for luncheon on the terrace. 

I was profoundly disturbed when I left, feeling a mixture of rage at Jerry, and a profound sadness at the evil that could be decided in such a beautiful place (not that Evil needs a particular address).

Brighter times to ensue forthwith.

TTFN.