Despite the title, by the time Pearl was melting on top of Pandora, she'd stopped singing, but she had been chortling cheerfully. Little Pandora hardly says a word, while Petunia is the loudest and chirpiest of all. The three of them are rescue piggies and Pandora only joined the other two last month, so she's still finding her feet and, we hope, her voice. She seems a contented little guinea-pig, though. I shall miss them (and their ma and pa) when they leave tomorrow.
It's been another day of glorious, warm sunshine. We watched mist rising from the valleys as we drove to Buckfast Abbey, where we had lunch, and on briefly to Plymouth. (I managed to leave my purse on one shop's counter. By the time I realised, it was too late to return before they'd be closing, so we have to go and pick it up tomorrow. Such a relief when my daughter rang the shop and confirmed that's where I'd left it! The advantage of smartphones and the ability to look up phone numbers!)