Bath Party

There's been no rain here, just like everywhere else. As a cyclist without a garden I've not worried about it particularly. But now it seems to have prompted someone with a window-box to indulge in a spot of liquid generosity, and the feathery residents of the High Street didn't wait for invitations, they were swooping in there in typical opportunist style.

Separately, I popped into the 2nd-hand DVD store and picked up a copy of E.T. as it has come to light from my regular beer-and-movie nights downstairs that herself has missed out on one or two classics. So I am “educating her”. 
Some of her peers have exclaimed things along the lines of “OMG! She didn't make you watch that did she?” after our visit to see Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey in 1987. 
Last weekend I insisted she watch Ghostbusters (Original) and I learned that she has also never seen The Blues Brothers (swoon! - at least I already have that ready to show her). 
We mix it up with other stuff, so she has introduced me to some of her favourites, including Moulin Rouge, but surely, getting her to watch E.T. now is culturally equivalent to my Granny taking me to see “Old Yeller” in the cinema when I was young enough to lie about tears 
- “No Granny, it was hot in there and my eyes were sweating.”