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Vintage Sunday

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It’s been a great weekend.

By this morning, this weekend we had already, between us, taught two horn lessons, rehearsed a brass band, picked up some resoled ancient but much loved and patinaed brogues (mine) from Mr Cobbler, been to The Castle to see The Stuffed Goat and The Silver Teapots (otherwise known as the historic regimental silver of the Queen’s Dragoon Guards), and had ice creams after the great ceremony of parking at The Arms Park (complete with pitch inspection).

Today started well with bright sunshine and great coffee. So we only cooked a mammoth pot of chilli, watched a film, cleaned the house, cleaned the shoes and learned to thread shoelaces (you don’t need a shoe-shine man when you have a Grifflet), opened two lovely belated birthday gifts, had two baths in three hours (when you’re a Big Boy of Four, dirt is unavoidable), and ate cake.

We’ve pored through two books: his Mammy’s gift of Revolting Rhymes, and a two-hour gentlemanly discursive analysis of a lovely eBay-sourced coffee-table book of the Ralph Lauren vintage car collection (Mr Lauren should be informed that a Blower Bentley was the preferred Grifflet automotive choice on the grounds of its resemblance to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, thereby beating several generations of Jaguars, Ferraris, and magnificent Golden Age Bugattis)

We have also helped Mammy throughout, whether she has needed it or not. Lucky girl.

No wonder he flaked out.

Do we really have to go to work and school tomorrow? Please? I don’t want this to end.

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