Or Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence
...so I'm posting a photo of a plugged in man with a plastic beaker and
a postcard on his head.
Taken by the Divine Daughter.
Except this isn't a kid and it certainly ain't a town.....The continuing
love affair between DD and the horses in the field next door. A new
mare and foal turned up to join the mare she calls Toastie. Please
don't get attached to them this time I said. I will she replied..... DD
has called the mare Bronwyn, possibly because she knows it is my
favourite name. We haven't got near enough to find out if the foal is
male or female so she has named it Sweet-Pea which isn't particularly
gender specific and reminds her of dear Sweet-William.
So, any old farts out there want to sing along with the song in my head:
"There's so many things you could have told her, that night after night
you're willing to hold her, just hold her, tears on your shoulder...."
Around here we are still at war!
We were following the footpaths when suddenly the rift opened and the
path went through a field of llamas. They advanced upon us curiously,
and I had a sudden terrifying mental image of a llama version of the
Pamploma bull run. One of the llamas was truly hideous, it only had one