Ye Old Post Office - Sham

I was doing a gig in a town in North Wales. Mair, a native of the town, had something to say to me about the amenities up the hill. Mair was teeny-tiny and gaunt, sitting by the bus window in the midst of a sou’wester. ‘Don’t be fooled,’ she said. ‘The Old Post Office never were.’ ‘What were it as built, then?’ Sarah asked. She was long and lean with an iridescent blue rinse, sitting high in pink…