Hi Stu,
Dad is in a sulk now, he has been fiddling with his bed’s overhead fluorescent light which has presented him with various manifestations of its refusal to play ball.
It works, then doesn’t ~Then works again, and then refuses to for a great while. Dad is going through all kinds of electrical gymnastic diagnostics and some of his solutions have gone pop on him .
As I write he is spraying air-freshener, accompanied by a nasty, burn plasticy pong which wafts through the caravan and lingers for ages.
Ole Brucie just gets that grumpy and p…..-off look on his face followed by determined grumbling. He then mutters, goes to lie down to lick his wounds but he will never give up on it. He will track down the cause of the regular backfiring eventually – the situation is not dissimilar to when you and he have in the past been trouble-shooting puzzling computer histrionics which you guys never allowed to get the beter of you. As you know he is a tenacious little Scotsman is our Bruce…,
I Particularly like this photo. The lushness of the vegetation is sometimes like a medieval fairytale, and as I walk along I imagine misty Dragons lurking in the undergrowths. (Perhaps the as-yet upcoming waterfall will reveal in its cascading and frosty spray the Forest Fairy Folk larking about there…)
