Stubble

That could be me! Except you'd never catch me with stubble. It might look OK on Brad Pitt, but at a certain age it makes you look like a tramp, as I may have remarked upon before to my captive blip audience. Or with a dog actually. What a hindrance that must be; like having a 10 month old, except they at least eventually grow up and look after themselves. Or they should. This isn't the place to publicly berate my daughter. Let's just say in future she'll open mail that comes from the company that insurers her car rather than leaving it unopened for a month or two. And the next one, and the next one.
This morning I found myself in a coffee shop full of ladies, drinking coffee from twee teacups and ladling jam from a twee jam pot onto a warm scone. Delightful!

Oh - and here's to Rabbie!