Went to Newbury today and inspected my mother's garden. As the ladies at yesterday's workshop will know, she lopped off the heads of her campanulas and was very cross about it - "that strimmer has a life of it's own!". She said she wished she had a scythe to cut the grass. I suggested that at 85 a strimmer isn't that good an idea and a scythe is completely out of the question.
I thought her garden looked lovely though:
Lovely and cool on a hot summer's day.
When I got home I saw that flying school had started:
First, tentative flight to top of door:
short hop to shelves:
Mum and Dad show how it's done:
Cripes! That's enough for us! We're going back home:
Oh yes, garden is looking lovely!
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