Where to?

After dropping HH off at the club, the dogs and I had a fairly short walk  in the drizzle, along by the waterfall , where we came across a few Derelict Sunday possibilities. The gate stands before a house that's no longer there, one more haunting reminder of old times before the floods and landslides. Further along, we found Walter, the former caddie I re-met a few weeks ago, with his battered-looking friend (extra photo).

Some of HH's golf partners had arranged a get-together in the evening and as their game finished so late, HH got a lift straight to our hostess's house, saving me another round trip to the club. It was a tad chaotic, though - the party was scheduled for 7, then delayed till 8, I turned up at around 8.15 and our hostess only arrived with the food and HH five minutes later. Some of the others had arrived earlier and were already sitting round the table, talking at the top of their voices - golf club politics and finance, Brazilian politics, Trump (yes, Brazilians too are mesmerized by the goings on in the States), round and round in circles. One way and another, it was the noisiest dinner party we've ever been to and not even on account of Carnival, because the TV was broken, so watching the samba schools wasn't an option. We were relieved to take our battered ears home shortly after midnight.