Colditz (and Lidl)

Colditz first came into my consciousness when I was a child, a grim castle set to terrifying music in grainy colour on British 1970s TV. It was the theme of my games of Action Man, a place where posh, moustached men plotted escapes under Jerry’s very nose, a place of daring do, of jaunts across the Reich armed with nothing more than a homemade set of clothes and a forged ID card, trotted out with a jar of ink and a potato. So when I got the chance to visit I jumped at it. It was surprisingly nice, and close to a charming village, and ironically juxtaposed with a branch of Lidl.
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