Pomme pomme pom pom
The pom-pom on Bella's hat disintegrated in the garden this afternoon, along with her mood. I suspect our nine year old neighbour trying to eat it might have been the cause.
Poor thing. She tries desperately to keep up, but five years is a hell of an advantage at that age.
Speaking of trying to keep up, I reached a new low cycling up the hill this evening - I was overtaken by a chap running. I'm used to being left standing by Lycra-clad racing types, and even the odd dickhead on a fixie, but a bloke and his bare legs? I think I made it up the fastest I have this year, too.