Home, home again

I like to be here when I can. Especially when the weather’s like this. And the garden was looking very good - JK along the street (no, not that JK) had been attentively watering it in the dry spell.
And out to see the lads in the evening, though just four of us. I left with MrT’s celebrated memoir in my back pocket. Heavily self-censored by the sound of it. Perhaps he’ll allow an unabridged version to “circulate” around our Gents Phil Soc.