How To Get Rid Of Dandelions

I began the last push on clearing the two rooms Nick is currently working on together at 4 a.m. this morning. These are the new sitting room and our bedroom upstairs.

Our friendly decorator began prepping before Jackie and I took a mid-morning forest drive.

A framed crocheted Queen welcomes visitors to St. Mark’s Church, Pennington.

We travelled along the very narrow Pauls Lane on our way to Pitmore Lane

alongside which I photographed the landscape with horses.

Further along we encountered a group of donkeys and their foals which

attracted a number of other photographers including this Frenchwoman. I quipped that these donkeys would become very familiar with the camera, and realised that her husband did not understand me. He told me so in English and followed in his own tongue which I didn’t understand. When he explained this to his wife I suddenly tuned into his French accent and replied, haltingly, in his own language. The three of us then spoke about how difficult it is to speak in another language for the first two or three days of a visit. The husband told me that they kept two donkeys at home.

One of the foals appears to have been attempting to emulate the stereotypical female Argentine tango dancer. Tossing its head around, scratching against the stiff grass, first on its feet, then sinking to the ground and rolling its muzzle close to the ground, the little animal failed to grasp the secret of how to get rid of dandelions.

By this afternoon Nick had made considerable progress and will begin applying paint tomorrow.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s excellent chicken korma and various leftovers from last night’s Red Chilli takeaway, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden, Ian drank Cobra, and I finished the Bordeaux.