Lucy's birthday. Sort of.

Being young and stuff - and with a night out arranged for the weekend to come - Lucy spent her actual 23rd birthday imbibing alcoholic beverages in town from a horn. With her mum. Shocking behaviour. Although I did enjoy the texts deteriorate into gobbledegook as their night wore on. And so it was I only caught up with her days later on her brother's birthday, looking weary after work, but deftly avoiding my suggestion of a solo shot by jumping in between her mum and grandma along with Tess.

Meanwhile, back to the 16th and Dave too was booze laden and very happy after a few beers and whiskys in town with Dougie and some other pals. So much happy that after proclaiming "I love my dog" to no one in particular he later knocked himself out at 4.30 am in the morning and knackered his arm. Luckily, his wonderful wife soothed his brow with a cold cloth and watched over him until the wee small hours turned into the unforgiving daylight ones. She sounds ace, give her some chocolate buttons.