Beer

Son #2 had his first wasp sting today.

He reacted remarkably calmly.

Clearly he doesn't yet possess the profane vocabulary I might have let loose in the situation. Words, dear readers, that might have included flip, flipping flip, flipping heck, etc...

So, wasps haven't been a big part of our recent summers but they seem to be orchestrating some late August blitzkrieg across the soft drink supplying areas of the nation.

Beer beach is a happy place to be. Apart from the wasps. The honeycomb ice-cream at the top of the beach is to die for. So much so that if I ate it in the quantities that temptation might suggest it probably would be the death of me.

No curled edge Devon savoury for me, not when Ham, Egg and Chips was on offer!

Back at home considering the joy that is painting the bedroom ceiling with cheap, white emulsion.