Beetroot boy

When I mow the grass, or fight with the tattie patch I make sure to wear appropriate sun-proof attire. But yesterday when we were off up a dirty big hill in the blistering sunshine, what do I wear? A T-shirt. So today I have the classic redneck tan, with bright red limbs that start where the shirt ended. And a bright red neck as well. And a face like a skelpt arse. Mmm, classy.

This is especially good as we’re off to a party tonight, thrown by the American ambassador – nothing to do with being big and special: She Who Must and I are over visiting Scott, Catherine and Logan, and we’re riding on their coattails – and I’ll probably be the only one who looks they go, “Heyuck, heyuck…”

Ferrero Roche ahoy!