This baby tiger has surfaced in our bathroom - fortunately, despite appearances, he is quite tame. I imagine young Sam has been searching for him ever since he (and the rest of the Ball Family from Cardiff)
came to visit earlier this month.
I have two options now. My first option is to add the baby tiger to the little pile of "small toys left behind when grandchildren come
to stay." I keep these in one of Mr B's bowls cups - let's face it his trophies have to come in useful for SOMETHING. Alternatively I could parcel them all up and return them to their owners - but I am afraid that Sam and little
brother James (possibly even baby Morgan) would get all excited about the parcel arriving and then be mega-disappointed when they see the contents and discover nothing new. Will the return of the baby tiger be sufficiently exciting?
I shall consult the oracle (my lovely daughter-in-law) before acting.
There's lots more "stuff" in our garage. Clearing said garage, along with "redesigning" the front garden (see Saturday's
blog), is one of my retirement projects and today I made a valiant start. Mr B is less than enthusiastic and says I am behaving like a "blue-a**ed fly", whatever that means when it's at home. I decided to take it as a compliment though I am
not at all sure it was meant that way.
Incidentally, Mr B is a little miffed about yesterday's blog on his talents as a colourist. Not because he would argue with my faithful, blow-by-blow description
- but because I failed to pay tribute to the excellent result. Yes, friends, I am transformed - and all for less than a fiver. Thank you, kindly, Mr B!