Things of beauty

What a contrast with the tackiness of yesterday's blip... 
Alerted by Kaybee that his (minutiously wrapped) package had reached the Oirish shores on November 17th, I assumed that the evil bloodsuckers masquerading as Eire's custom officers where busy slapping import duties on what is essentially priceless: delicate pieces of wood turned with love (and a fair bit of swearing). I was bracing myself to offer them a kidney or my youngest born in the hope that they might release the precious cargo. 
I was wrong. One can definitely not slap a monetary price tag on the priceless. 

It's my postman. He thought that it would be fun to play a game of Hide the Parcel in the Wellies. Pity he never bothered explaining the rules to us. I wonder how long the parcel has been there... 

Thanks a million Kaybee. I am genuinely touched. To be able to touch (and sniff) such beautiful Scottish wood. I love the feel of wood on my palms. So soothing. 

I won't ask where the hair for the figurine came from... Either Cosmo is missing a patch or Kaybee an eyebrow...