Hello my dears,
I woke up this morning to find Percival polishing his balls in the kitchen. And for the sake of any philistines who may be reading this, I am referring to his bowling balls.
He has unfortunately given up croquet and joined the local bowls club. I do find it amusing when he announces he is off to the bowling green. Naturally I have to point out to him that the proper description of this would be the bowling brown. They don't know what green is in this country. I do miss the lush emerald green of England. I have posted a little snap I took of our small back garden. This was my view from the west wing of our tiny castle in England. What a delightful carpet of green it was too. Such a delight to gaze upon as one ate one's boiled egg and hot buttered toast under the shade of a giant oak tree. It just isn't the same sitting under a Eucalypt with blow flies determined to land mid egg and those silly kookaburras laughing loudly at their own jokes all the time. At least the red breasted robin has the sense to chirp quietly.
Yours most wistfully,
Lady O.
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