Just been mooching about snapping in the moody sunshine and showers we've been having lately. I think the below should give you a flavour of autumn in London.
...and if it doesn't, entertain yourself with Whoopee's little gem of a Burns-esque poem,aptly named Winter Days With Pants. If it doesn't crack you up, check you've still got a pulse or haven't become Austrian.
1 comment:
I have to say I was a tad disappointed to find that 'Winter Days with Pants' was not the eulogy to your good self I had hoped it would be, especially since it's been all quiet on the old blog for a while. Now beg pardon, I must dash, I think my mini-cab for the Crimea is here. There was merrily!
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