The masked man

Popped over with J9 to see my Dad. The sun streams into their* front room but he chooses his seat wisely.

He was on good form, nice long natter, stroll down to the village for a few bits, bite of lunch and plenty tea & shortbread. Hard to believe he's 77.

Good day.

*edit: posted this and realised I typed 'their' front room, which is what always will be to me. It's the little things that stop you in your tracks.