Gurning

Up early this morning to go and visit Nan in Cornwall.

On the way we were intending to walk the dogs on Kit Hill, near Callington, which is one of those iconic places we all have, love and remember from our childhood holiday memories. We were often taken here as tots in the early evening to run around like mad things before bed back.

But the clouds were so low, and the drizzle so pervading, that you could not see the mine chimney at all - so we diverted to Cadsonbury and walked along the river Lynher. Another place so full of childhood memories that I am always tempted to strip down to my tightie whities, wade in and start building a dam!

I should imagine that in 1976 my underwear was neither so tight, or so white!

The merest mention of my under garments made Dozy gurn, which I conveniently caught on camera.