Old Admirals

I make no apologies for blipping the butterfly of my childhood. In the days when it was always Summer, ice-cream tasted like iced cream, pop made your nose ache with its sparkle and crisps came in one flavour. Maybe, I recognised all browny butterflies as 'admirals' or maybe they were more common 50 years ago and the modern world is diminishing the total of beauty in the world.

So, we have moved to Norfolk, Roo and Tess and I. We are beating paths anew in the land of the big sky. This is my return blip and it is fitting that it is an end-of-season Red Admiral, the butterfly that denoted Summer in my Youth in Yorkshire.

The cottage is fine, we have sorted the central heating with the help of Vaughan, and Mr Sky and Mr BT have reintroduced technology to us after 14 days without. We still have baxes to unpack and a bit of a leaky roof in the kitchen to get sorted, the outhouse needs a bit of TLC, but hey, the old place looks fine as it approaches it's 150th birthday.

Next job is to clear a space and get beds sorted out for our guests, who I am sure, will want to break their city existence with weekends in our rural idyll, maybe a blipmeet with Mr & Mrs H?

No bikes yet H! I have seen two of my neighbours with Trikes to kill for!

Watch for back blips y'all!