Conkered

A late and lazy pancake breakfast before a little bit of tidying and then a wander to the Broomhall Estate to see if Lord Elgin had any conkers lying around. Seems not. Not a good year for them apparently, said the man with checked tweed trousers and dog that meant be probably lived there. The big tree on the right yielded three stunted little things. Nothing from the one on the left. Good wander though.