Changes of Name

Smithers announced to me this morning that today his name was Mole.

Which, being translated, I knew meant "Will there be cake?" (Those who have read The Boy, The Fox, The Mole and The Horse by Charlie Mackesy will be on our wavelength here.)

Reader, I am happy to inform you that I took the hint, and there was cake. Which was rapidly followed by a batch of Nutty Joys (otherwise re-named by our middle granddaughter, L, as ‘oaty biscuits’.)

This afternoon Mole and I walked down to the Broadway for a few purchases, and then returned home via our preferred route through Harts Grove, which is an estate of houses built in the grounds of Harts House (now a nursing home). I make no apologies for posting another photo of the mock abbey ruins in the grounds, which is a relic left over from the days when Richard Warner the botanist lived there, because I liked the ivy-leaved toadflax and campanulas which were tumbling all over it.