In my honour I assume

The short hop up the Tyne in glorious sunshine - a first really, and then the too long wait for the 14:44 to Edinburgh. So we sat awhile at the Centurion and whistled up Newcastle John to talk beer.
Home by 16:40 and a quick turnaround and out - for, it being my birthday, I have splashed out on priority tickets to the gardens to see the fireworks. Even with priority, there’s an unseemly rush to get to the spaces free from overhanging branches. Superb to see the middle classes streaming through the entrance gates with their hampers and rugs in some weird remake of the factory hooter sounding at the close of day. 
And the daughter and S made it along, and we opened the goodies ; cocktail sausages exactly as ordered and a huge array of other nibbles - the SK hasn’t lost her touch when it comes to organising a picnic. And two rugs. The things the gels used to learn at James Gillespie’s! Now, let my fireworks commence!