Marcus came round, because he had to go to some kind of Viking conference in Nottingham this weekend. To make up for the sheer boredom that must have entailed, we decided to go to Green's Mill, where Science and Flour collide.
Marcus, having just been told where we're headed, wondering whether it's too late to back out and catch the next train north. 
Marcus takes a snap of Green's Mill, while laughing in the face of danger (walking around Sneinton without an armed escort)Green's Mill was the home of George Green, Nottingham's most famous son and the man who basically invented mathematics. His legacy to the people of Britain is an operational flour mill, which to this day provides most of Nottingham's flour, and science.
Alix thought we were joking when we told her where we were going. 
At the heart of the mill is a flux capacitor, which allows the amalgamation of flour and Science using a cold fusion process invented by Green while high on a tincture of lysergic acid.
Marcus takes a closer look, risking genetic mutation and a nasty sunburn.
After wandering around the entirety of the attached museum for thirty seconds, and getting stuck behind bawling toddlers snotting all over the interactive displays we made our way to the windmill! Alix and Marcus got stuck talking to some bloke who looked old enough to have been one of George Green's personal chums, and by the time he'd finished off the bottle of shandy he was clinging onto he probably thought he was. After they finally managed to extricate themselves from his rantings we climbed aboard.
Alix, illuminated by the glow of plutonium graphite rods in the cooling tank at the base of the windmill.
The mechanism has been repaired over the years with bits of Enigma machines.
This chain hoists bags of wheat to the top of the windmill, prior to the grain being converted into Science.
Bagging area, where powdered Science is measured and weighed using avoirdupois measurements 
Sacks of raw Science, packaged up and ready for despatch.
After exhausting the photographic possibilities of the windmill (which didn't take long, especially as the miller made good his escape within minutes of us boarding), we set our sights on the churchyard of St Stephen's - minutes walk from the windmill, and burial place of George Green.
His memorial is not well marked, and it took a detailed survey of the graveyard to finally locate his resting place. Exhausted, we paused only to take some portraits, then - as the rain started pelting down - made our way back to the car.
Marcus ponders the achievements of the man to whom we owe so much
Marcus gadding about. Show some respect for George Green!!
Marcus (left) and Alix (right) in the distance behind some dandelions. 
As we bade farewell to Green's Mill, a howling wind whipped up dark clouds and driving rain spattered the windscreen...perhaps there is some truth in the local legend that Green stitched corpses together in the basement of the windmill on storm lashed winter evenings
Marcus shows how many thumbs up he gives Green's Mill
