Waiting

Is there anything more frustrating than waiting for somebody when you’re all ready to go?

 If the perspective seems odd it’s because the back door of the house is on a much lower level than the start of the garden.  As we are practically on the side of a small mountain, the garden is terraced and Stan has raced up to the first one and is looking down impatient to be off whilst I faff around with boot laces and cameras.

Stan fans will notice that those horrible pustulent spots he had on his nose, probably an allergic reaction to some plant or other he was foraging in, have gone but have left little scars which I’m hoping will get covered up when his hair grows back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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