A toast to Mr B.

And I don't mean Mr Burns. Our Burn's Night has been postponed by a huge goose, to tomorrow night.

No, I mean my Mr B, seen above finding a Navy Destroyer for our daughter to look at through her telescope, and getting his knee pretty wet into the bargain.

Tonight he cooked an amazing dinner (again) for us and his parents and he gifted me a lie-in this morning and (again) slowly and patiently explained why the whole RBS thing is scary. Dinner for the benefit of you gluttons out there was: roast goose with amazing roast potatoes, beetroot, green beans a la Mr B (fried - well, he is Scottish), chestnuts, gorgeous gravy ("I think it might be my best yet" - he wasn't wrong).

So, for no reason in particular, but every reason in the world, here's a toast to my Mr B.