A Bee

The wasp man cometh and the wasp man taketh away. The attic is now full of angry wasps with nowhere to go. I’m not going back there for a day or two. 
So we went as far away as possible, well in Edinburgh, all the way to Alnwickhill to sit outside on her sister’s monster settee on the lawn. Tea and scones were duly brought forth. As well as a few birthday presents....
And goodbye Don Everly. The Guardian’s obit stretched it a bit -  "Their unmistakable harmonies drew on 700 years of Scottish Borders misery, taken via the Appalachians to express late 1950s teenage confusion.”  700 years of Scottish Borders misery, anyone? Peebles is OK, no?