Blazer

Out to top up the club tenders' diesel tanks and then refill the Jerry can. Manly stuff. Sea air in my nostrils, bleached hair tousled. Jeans cut off at the knee. Beach tar on my feet. Well, some of that.
Then off a-shopping I did go. Along Stockbridge - but no Yunnan black tea! Darlings! So on up to Whittards for their closest equivalent. Bah. A perambulation along the length of George St, through the ghastly throngs stuffing their florid faces and filling their swollen bellies then did follow. By the time I got to the Blue Blazer to meet with Leasko who is down in town for a few days, I was sore in need of a beer. And how lovely it was to meet and chat and have a sup and catch up. And Missie DW showed up too and perched herself on a bar stool. She’s learning quickly, that one.
Then back to LGR where F arrived and there was much yap, and a viewing of Mustang. Good though that was, the next item was the most eagerly awaited. Yep, Lineker in his pants! I think we need a bit more of this sort of thing. I may agree to appear on blip in my undies if Hearts win the league. As long as I can keep my vest on too.