Ah, the glorious sight of St Peter’s church, standing proud in the heart of Riga’s Old Town. It brings to mind the old nursery rhyme:
Either some stag party has got seriously out of control or steeplejacks are fiddling around with the weathercock atop the tower.
Unemployment may be on the rise, but there are some jobs you would just never apply for.
Worryingly, one of the blobs appeared to loiter on the spire for a considerably longer period than the others, raising suspicions that either he got his trousers snagged on a nail or he’s an apprentice earning his stripes by staying up there overnight.
Whatever the explanation, just don’t look down.