Those boots

Walk on the beach (brrr) today with our guests - anyone recognise the boots?

After they'd headed off home, we sank into Sunday torpor. Conor was poorly - feverish and throwing up, with a brief rally "I'm better now mammy" after each dose of Calpol. He slept most of the afternoon on the sofa, with me joining him for a few hours.

Mr B made one of his famous roast chicken dinners, so now the world is a lovely mellow place, and I've put the towering ironing pile behind me so I can continue to ignore it until morning.