It must be Thursday...

Never could get the hang of Thursdays. 

This Sunday Abstract is a decoration that Charlotte gave us a few years ago. Reflected in the double glazing it's redolent of fairground rides and bad pharmaceuticals. I particularly like the screaming faces...

In other news, a quiet day with Janet's dad and his wifde up for lunch and tea (but not Mr and Mrs Sheol, the latter of whom happily appears to be regaining his composure after a dose of grumble-belly).

After all, soon there will be Chrimble Pud and Armagnac aplenty.