Home again, home again

So I was sitting in a f*ing stupendous tailback jam on the M3 last night returning from Devon and thinking about the dotty old lady I had been to see, who thinks that she's visiting me and tells me what I should be doing about the garden of the care home that she lives in, but thinks I live in.
The staff like her because she tells the other residents to suck it up when they're being pathetic, which the staff of course are not allowed to do...
It's a bugger getting old.
I ain't going to do it.
I'm staying 17.
So there.
Off the motorway and guesswork home while tomtom kept telling me to go back and rejoin the jam. Surrounded by imbeciles.

(Here is Ma with the evidence of the chocolate biscuits I smuggled in and a picture of herself as a baby approx 82 years ago)

So on a weekendy note here's some sunshine...

*** Thanks you for all your suggestions yesterday. Of course I'm just going to leave the damned things on the worktop making marks... ***