But, then again . . . . .

By TrikinDave

Across The Glen.

We were up early to get the shopping and lunch done so that we could take Merlin out for a wee wander; the old lad isn’t up to much these days so we drive him down to The Chapel so that the walk starts as soon as his feet touch the ground. A normal route would mean that he was knackered by the time the proper walk had begun.
Such are his abilities these days’ that, at bedtime, he goes to the foot of the stairs and waits to be carried up; If I take too long he comes back for me and  often forgets why he’s returned and goes and lies on his bed. Such behaviour runs in the family, Mrs Merlin used to say that she would go upstairs, no mean feat for a woman in her condition, and come back down as she’d forgotten why she’d gone there; it wouldn’t take long before she remembered that she needed the loo.
Any road up, I thought this view across The Glen might be suitable for Herself’s texture project; however, without having access to the original remit, I can’t be absolutely certain either way.

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