T-shirt hat man

Sunnyish day in London, so we wandered down to the park for a picnic lunch. Uncle R, whose head had swollen up more than seemed wise, stayed at home to nurse his shingles. So, nice lunch, some running about for the kids, and home in time to get a cab to the station for our train home. Mr B had some meetings in London so was staying down there so it was just me and the kids.

The train was bizarrely empty - well our carriage was - and the enormous group of semi-drunk Geordie blokes without which no East Coast Mainline train is allowed to travel, kept a lid on the swearing and satisfied themselves with poker and a quiz (yes, really).

Driving up from Berwick the light was absolutely beautiful - just perfect slanty light with a bit of haze. But it was well past the kids' bedtime, so no stopping allowed. So, here's t-shirt hat man. He didn't take the t-shirt off so I don't know if he was protecting a bald head. Probably though.