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Once a year those fellow villagers with pretty gardens open them to the public in aid of charity. Having one of the finer gardens , as we do, " 'er Indoors " has our gardener working nights to get it all in tip top trim ( the connection between the work we give him and the fact that drives a new Range River and owns a farmhouse in Capri is not likely to be coincidental ). I normally lock myself in my study with a bottle of whisky and a box of cigars, rather than watch the grockles fall into the ponds, trip down the ornamental steps or flatten the flower beds, but this year I am spoiled for choice as an alternative. In the pub last night I discovered a newcomer to the village who, like myself, is a published author on the subject of military aviation. So, we have agreed to meet up for Sunday lunch in the pub, and then rock down to his place for a few bottles of vino and a pleasant afternoon of watching aviation DVDs
On the other hand, I co own a steam traction engine with a pal of mine. He has just been let down by a chum who has reneged on a promise to help get the engine out of moth balls, buff it up so it gleams, fill the bugger with water and coal, winch it onto the low loader and then drive it two hundred miles where I'll have to spend all afternoon stoking the sod and then reverse the process to get it back home !
A tough call, ain't it !
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