Enforced Volunteering

Mum does more than a lot for all of us, year in year out, and she only ever asks one thing from us; to help her out at her fundraising stall at the local Fayre/Fair/jamboree/whatever its name is. So we all get jobs. It might be the nerf gun stand, it might be the boules stand, might even be name the whisky board, but all the money raised goes to keep the Danestone History Group in speakers every fortnight, teas and coffees, as well as an annual coach trip somewhere historical...with the obligatory high tea on the way home. Fair dos.

Mum hates her photograph being taken. Obviously it's because of her former days as an international spy, codename clogs and culottes, specialities included bamboozlement through macrame and teaching some spectacularly disruptive secondary school kids some life skills to help them enter the big bad world. So here's the closest I managed to get of a picture of her today.

And at night we had a visit to Grants for his birthday drinks and nibbles and there was no doubt many sore heads come the morning.