A Transport of Delight

Today the Roofers started in earnest (village outside Huddersfield) so we have dust and debris and hubris and shards of French slate (lower quality due to amphibious overtones) and old battens and mess everywhere.
The giant ladder was removed before I got home from Nanna's so I missed the chance to ascend but I'll be here for the duration so may nip up there later.
The loft is now so brightly lit (and crunchy underfoot) that you don't need to turn on the lights - as long as you don't mind seeing in green.

Today we meet the third "Prof M's Unusual Thing". This medical antique is a Siebe Gorman compressed oxygen revival apparatus. In its own original sturdy carrying case, it was issued to trained operatives in mines and wherever else emergency resuscitation kits were required. Quite why it was in our loft we do not know, ditto why I am trying to respirate using a clearly depleted O2 tank.

Today my promised excursion was to a tractor farm.
Really it was just the local pick-your own but it has other activities: we played laserquest around an old cowshed with a command post and an old 38-ton truck and a pile of tyres and I was victorious and shot 18 people, mostly girls who didn't see me coming.
I picked beans and redcurrants and strawberries and we saw and fed fish that Jof didn't like and we went on a giant waterslide and got all tired again.
We left Nanna's on schedule, went back half an hour later to retrieve Jof's handbag and got home for supper. This meant we could go through the Eastbourne 'Rush hour' 3 times, with clogs'a'poppin' and the sound of buckets being kicked left right and centre.
Later, I farted like a scirocco straight from the cesspits of hell. She glowered. But he laughed, which is why I do such things grinningly.