Potato, Potahto, Tomato, Tomahto...
Potato, Potahto, Tomato, Tomahto…
It was beginning to get dark as we approached As Pontes. Thanks to my incessant Internet stalking of all things Gallego , I for one was dizzy with excitement when I finally spied the huge chimneys of the power station looming on the horizon, their plumes of steam belching heavenwards in the brisk night air. Immediately I felt at home. The scene reminded me of the Industrial north of England, a…
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