Never on a Sunday

I was supposed to go for a walk with GG today, on a glorious sunny afternoon. She surprised me by turning up late and saying that we had to go immediately to Stroud Police station to turn in a shotgun!

Apparently her son in law had found it in the loft while investigating a water problem. GG's late husband's stepfather probably placed it there about 40 years ago, 'to keep them safe' and it's been there ever since, quietly rusting away.

Needless to say, there was no one at the police station, and after much squawking from an intercom, it was decided that the police would visit GG at her home and take the gun. Relief all round. We put the gun in its hessian Waitrose shopping bag back in the car boot and drove to a park, where we walked for all of TEN MINUTES. Now, I'd been actually looking forward to that walk, but the gun got in the way. Blast.

I've spent the rest of the day compiling an online order for my cards and filling in a terribly long online form that is doing my head in completely. I've eaten dreadful rubbish all day because it's so irritating and Beta-version. I didn't even have supper because I was so full of crisps and other garbage. Meanwhile, CleanSteve went off to photograph a choir singing the Messiah. Lucky him!

And now it's midnight.
Again.
Good morning

PS I thought it wiser not to post a photograph of the actual shotgun