Short and tall

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Baby B with Uncle H (BA (Jazz), M(Mus)). I just wish I’d recorded some of their conversations – I don’t think I’ll ever hear the little chap fratching again without hearing “Hey! Wassup man?” in my head, but there’s only one member of the family who can say that aloud with it sounding ridiculous, and it’s clearly not me.

As you can probably judge by the way they’re both dressed, it was a pretty cold day, but at least it was sunny, and with appropriate clothing, additional blankets for those who needed them, and the gazebo acting as a windbreak, we managed to stick reasonably well within the rules. And if lunch went cold the second the outside air hit the plates – well, you can’t have everything.

The Cardiff contingent went home this afternoon, but H and S are staying in our friends’ cottage until tomorrow morning, so R and I had the pleasure of another evening in their company. I’m feeling pretty blessed.

The extra, by the way, was a competition between grandmother and grandson, to see whose fingers are fattest and crinkliest. I believe I can claim to have won.