Clocking up the years ...

No sooner are we home than normal life reclaims us - at least, it did this morning, with church as usual - though with a very small congregation today to hear another excellent sermon, this time from my weekday art tutor whom we are lucky to have as a resident cleric when the need arises. The torrential rain of overnight had somewhat diminished when we left the house, but was reasserting itself by the time we were home again.

This made our afternoon all the more enjoyable, as we spent it not in walking wetly along some forest road but in drinking champagne with our besties and half their family (including dogs!) in honour of their Golden Wedding anniversary. The Dalmatian in the foreground of my photo decided to be startled by my appearance in his temporary home, not realising that I was a frequent visitor, but all four eventually fell asleep and let us get on with scoffing a bottle or three of bubbly and indulging in increasingly unlikely conversation. (Himself was on the Nosecco, for those readers who might be concerned ...)

By the time we left I didn't feel at all like cooking what I'd intended, so I took a leaf out of Lady Findhorn's playbook and made a Spanish omelette instead, after which I collapsed over the final episode of the current series of Das Boot. I remain slightly mystified as to what happened to the enigmatic bloke with the wee moustache who ended up on the mortuary slab, but I may have dropped off briefly ...

A good day - and the realisation that our age group seems to stick to the partners we started off with. Cheers!