Many thanks to Sonya for Week One Hundred and Sixty-Eight of Three Line Tales, part of her awesome blog Only 100 Words!

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Shoes, dress, hat, sunshades,
Ensemble, striking a pose!
Fashionista’s Dream!!

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Thank you to Sonya of Only 100 Words for coming up with Three Line Tales.

You’ll find full guidelines on her TLT page, but here’s the tl;dr:

• Write three lines inspired by the photo prompt (& give them a title if possible).
• Link back to this post.
• Tag your post with 3LineTales (so everyone can find you in the Reader).
• Read and comment on other TLT participants’ lines.
• NEW: If you want your post to be included in the round-up, you have until Sunday evening to publish it.
• Have fun.

Happy three-lining!

Greek Marching Band Gets the Party Started

     The second leg of the dual parade day brought me to 5th Avenue to celebrate the 82nd annual Greek Independence Day Parade. Everywhere you looked on the parade route, from 64th to 79th streets, blue and white Greek flags were being displayed or waved. The parade coincides as close as possible to the actual date of Independence of March 25th. Hundreds of thousands of revelers turned out to celebrate this festive event which is televised locally on MY9 and internationally where millions in Greece can see the beautiful event. The crowd was really anxious to get things started and as usual the mounted police signaled the start of the parade.

Evzones Marching Up 5th Avenue

Folkloric Costumes

Proud Marcher

     Parade organizers, The Federation of Hellenic Societies of Greater New York, led the way to the reviewing stand on…

If we’re talking cycling (and we probably are, aren’t we?) a Grand Tour is one of the three big ones: the Giro d’Italia, the Vuelta a España, or, of course, the Tour de France. Ben, the – hero? anti-hero? narrator, anyway – of A Spoke in the Wheel, never got quite good enough to ride one of those.

If, however, we’re talking travel, a Grand Tour is a circuit of Europe undertaken by the privileged youth of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries before they had to settle down and be grown up, sometimes taking several years.

I couldn’t swing more than three weeks off work, but I am spending my Betty Trask prize money going InterRailing. When you read this, I’ll be somewhere between Brussels and Hamburg, assuming no undue disruption from the SNCF strike, of course. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. (I…