The old man has started to rant about leaving his closest family, about spending more time with his children. The children within earshot roll their eyes: they remember how he left them before.
If you’re a frequent visitor to this blog you’ll know that I have a bit of a thing for the Nordic Lands. Nordic place names, whether in Scandinavia, Iceland or in England have been a source of fascination for me for years.
We spent the day exploring riverside hides and watching the birds feed. We played “What am I talking about?” and got back indoors before the rain got going.
It’s time for me to play being a TV commissioning editor again: let’s see what I can come up with this time…
We have plenty of people who need homes, but cannot afford them: Rents are expensive; mortgage deposits are extortionate; the bank of mum and dad has been squeezed dry. Hard working people desperately need homes.
The tide came up a few hours ago, and so we are pleasantly stuck on this rocky outcrop. And we couldn’t be any happier.
What shocks me is the ability of some people to take offence at food which differs even slightly from that which their mother made while they were growing up.