It's been a curate's egg of a bank holiday weekend.
First, the bad :
The lovely Night Nurse has been very out of sorts.
Mrs Sheepwash did her neck in and issued birthday bash orders to assorted Sheepwashlets from her bed. There were seven young doctors in the house and all they could suggest was plenty of gin and tonic.
Mr Grigg and I didn't go to Portsmouth for the boat festival on Saturday. This was just as well because it's on over the Whitsun weekend, not May Day.
I spoke out of turn at the end of a lovely family gathering and let off a ticking timebomb when I should have kept my mouth shut. But the least said about that the better.
The eight-month-old dog is still having bladder problems.
I got into a pair of Levis that have been off the radar for some time.
Bellows Packman's goat has had babies.
The bluebells are out on The Hill.
We watched a deer run into the woods as we looked out across the vale and sea.
A tramp gave us the thumbs-up when we slowed down for him on his regular pilgrimage to a local Christian retreat.
Number One Step Grandaughter behaved impeccably and smiled all through her Christening.
We won the pub quiz.
We enjoyed a lovely roast (ironically, venison) at home while Number One Grand Daughter, dressed as Spiderman, poked carrots into her mouth through the hole her mask.
The hens are laying for England.
That's about it
Love Maddie x
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