The Eternal Mystery of a woman's handbag

Light weeding in the morning in the borders.  I am trying to encourage my lunaria rediviva early this year.  Helping p.m. in the world premier of s newly devised dance (yet to be named).  In the evening I attended the AGM of the Orkney Ramblers.  No wonder I have to have monkey gland injections.

The size of this handbag tipped me right over the top.  There must be at least two flat irons in it.  For some reason I could have done with a shot of my Granny Macleod’s smelling salts.