Shipshape

Let me record the fact that for the second time in a week I have forced myself to the gym after a break of six months. When one's love handles become so large that they begin to have a life of their own, drastic action is needed. Not that I think for a minute that  pounding myself into an unattractive lather is going to be the solution, but at least I can complain that I tried.

The trouble is that now of course, I could eat a horse, as they say, but while I write this, His Lordship has handed me a cup of tea and a water biscuit which he has told me to savour. He is a hard task master and while his love handles are no better,  he is taller and can hide his imperfections under masculine clothing.

All of this has absolutely no connections with my blip which is of a courtyard with a distinct Art Nouveau look about in a new block of flats at the end of the Dower House policies and adjacent to a building site which I will try to add as an additional image