Oh dear, set off at a gallop to fetch whisky and slid into a snowman, sat there with remains of said snowman cascading around me, ended up as an old snow lady.
Ah well, I'd rather have sloe gin any day (creeping back in shamefacedly)...
phew, that's better!
Sighs contentedly and resumes petting three dogs, all steaming in front of the fire. 
LAST THREE (WORDS) LETTERS (Cont. from May) Aug 2026







