slurs, knights and ornamental ducks

Another consequence of going out last night was that I landed myself some ace blackmail material - a real beauty of a photograph, depicting Ali and Anita looking, erm, a little the worse for wear.

No, that description wasn't good enough. I must endeavour to do the image justice, even if I run the risk of slightly upsetting my good friends. They look, rather, like a pair of booze-fuelled, gurning harridans, alas.

This slur is mitigated, I hope, by the following qualification - that when they're not pulling stupid faces for my camera, they are both the picture of prettiness.

Either way, I haven't transferred it across to my computer, and may yet refrain from doing so as a gesture of good will (which may be needed considering that they will probably beat me up for the crude characterisation above) - but I do have a couple more photos to publish from recent weeks, so I shall do so. The second, with a brief explanation, will explain why Anne-Sophie has been amusing herself by posting comments on this blog reading 'NIGEL!!!' every other day for the last couple of weeks.

First up though, this modern take on St. George, modelled in plasticine, won us joint first prize in the George Quiz modelling round down the pub on Sunday - our first ever victory in that round.

Now for Nigel. A couple of weeks ago, encouraged by the weather, a group of us decided to have the first barbecue of the year on the beach - and had a really good time cooking sausages and haloumi and tossing pebbles about in the spring sun. The pound shop on Western Rd sells serviceable bbq kits for a ridiculous cheap, er, pound, which is excellent value - as were the ornamental plastic ducks which they were also practically giving away.

We bought one, christened him Nigel, and, as the sun began to dip towards the horizon, we set him free on the sea and watched him bobbing serenely out towards France. Pics below.

My suspicion is that he might have drifted into Iranian waters by now. Oh no!