Mother Brown

Knees up, indeed. The bidey-in came a bit of a cropper last night, tottering aff her high heels after popping in to meet the boatie pals in the Tap. So it was off for an X-ray first thing. No breaks thankfully, but she came back with an NHS stick. Most ageing, it must be said, though she's a natural with it. Especially swinging it round her head.
Anyway, after bringing home the cream of tomato soup as demanded, I legged it to my beloved. My beloved Tynecastle, that is. Yes indeed, a rearranged fixture against ICT. And a most comfortable win, though of course we should have had a couple more. Here's the crowd streaming homeward. Lordy it was cold - I'd left earlier with neither hat nor glovvies. How come no one looks after me? Sniffle.