As one might expect, Mum’s (and her twin sister’s, my Auntie Sue-Sue) 60th birthday went just fably! Lovely big fambly meal down the pub, much annoying of other patrons as we swapped embarassing stories about each other whilst laughing loudly followed by Tea On The Lawn (minus cucumber sarnies - we’re not a posh fambly).
Mum had a whizzo day and is dead chuffed with the tickets for a big Show in London + hotel that my Bro, Sis and I chipped in for.

And so, to detract from the Wot-I-Did-On-My-Holidays-ness thus far endured, here’s how my Grandad (who knows a thing or two about growing stuff) caught me out when I showed him some pics of all the stuff we’ve grown in our garden:

Grandad: What do you put on your Rhubarb, then?
Me: Well, compost of course.
Grandad: I prefer custard myself.

I hope one day I’ll be as quick as him.

‹Is now fully ready for anything that w**k might throw at me tomorrow!›