Little monkeys...

... Why... When I have written a careful (and long) narrative, is that the time it always disappears without trace?? Grrr.

I'm afraid I shall have to make my next attempt short (and have lost comment time).

Monkeys..
Staffordshire..
A mid-point for a birthday celebration.
I could have chosen to dress for the monkeys (you'd think?).
But no!
Ever the pioneer, I dressed for a birthday celebration.
(The Wrong Outfit is an unerring knack I could probably exploit somehow??).
Was I the one to be monkey-pooed upon?
No, thankfully.
Shall I be the one dealing with the laundry from this explosive event?
Sadly yes.
(Visitors to Monkey Forest beware. There are some things they don't mention in the brochures!).

Shall I visit again?
Probably (it is 60 acres of Staffordshire woodland, containing two free-roaming groups of Barbary macaques).

Is this how I shall be spending my 80th birthday?
No.

Note to self.. For that event I should like to have a very elegant meal in  an excellent restaurant/splendid music/fun and laughter/happy reminiscences.
(No doubt I shall be wearing a baseball cap and sportswear. Probably in purple!).

(This event is decades hence, obviously).