Spacey wether

It's plane to see Richard Branson loves taking a punt.



And (wo)man-handling his staff.




I'd go into space with him. Wouldn't you?

We went to the beach today. OK, so it was a bit showery and the surf was shit, but the girls enjoyed themselves, in the water, in their clothes. Yes, girls - we had an extra onboard, the daughter of a friend who moved to the Deep South when her kids were little. This one, in the pic, is 30 days younger than H and about 7 inches taller. Ms Tall and Ms Short haven't seen each other for 7 years odd.



Then we went and bought a Copenhagen ice creams and ate them at Pilot Bay. Adam even stopped whining. Very pleasant. When we dropped her off at her Nan's, we got to meet Elmo.



I think he looks more like a Dionne, I mean, look at that hair. Adam made lifelong friends with a merino sheep who wags his tail-less rump like a dog and I am a little concerned that he (Adam) has fallen for a male sheep; it's a bit of a worry because he really can't have a sheep in town; there's enough crap on my lawn as it is...

And then they were 6; I found Henry VII dead in the trough and being eaten by mosquito larvae. Karma's a bitch, even for a fish. Maybe those Buddhists are onto something.

(Note to self: next time buy the small size waffle cones and then there might be some chance of eating it before bathing in it.)