Given the number of fire engines and ambulances rocketing along local roads this morning, I assume that drivers are having problems coping with our inclement weather. As the larder had been looking a little sad, yours truly was despatched to Holsworthy market to acquire additional supplies and dispose of the empties. The fish didn’t look too clever, so I settled for sweetbreads and a loin of wild boar. Wouldn’t exactly say we’re going hungry at the barn, although my cherubic form will have to be addressed at some stage in the future - I’m starting to resemble a good looking version of Michael Winner the younger.
Am spending the afternoon on general maintenance duties: sanding down the guest quarters lavatory seat before someone damages a vital piece of (their) equipment. I guess it could do with a makeover. As it happens, included in this morning’s post was the latest catalogue from my favourite supplier of gentleman’s requisites, Geo. F. Trumper. Whilst soirees along Jermyn Street are a thing of the past, and to the consternation of one or two young farmers at the Dog & Duck, I still like to splash out on the odd bar of sandalwood shaving soap and bottle of cologne. Mrs G’s rather particular about what lies next to her. It's been my observation that men’s toiletries changed forever the day that women joined the workforce.