I should be enjoying the final scenes of this famous farce, which is on all week at our local theatre. Act 1, however, was enough: the interval came none too soon, and I made for the exit and a bus home. Someone said that farce was tragedy speeded up; but when the timing is out, farce becomes tragic whatever its speed.
At least we didn't miss a beautiful evening outside: this photograph was taken lateish last evening, when we sat for the first time on our newly established bit of lawn - sown in the spot where we catch the sun before it finally goes off the garden. When there is sun, that is.