Hi Honey, I'm home!
So I'm back from my little bloggy holiday and I'm suffering from a close ally of jet lag. I mean, it can't be jet lag, because I haven't been anywhere near a plane, but I'm seriously suffering from the change in time zone.
OK, so my regular readers would recall that my time was spent at Grandad's house and I can walk it in 25 mins, but that doesn't mean there's no time zone change.
We had a great time. I had time to sit and listen to his war stories, and the early part of his work as a Methodist Minister; we giggled at huge numbers of episodes of "Dad's Army" (set during the same war); and I found a stash of Nan's kid's books, delightful, sweet stories set in the '30s and '40s and many published in accordance with 'War Production Economy Standards'.
I'm having some difficulty re-adjusting to this time zone.
Chances that I can just stay in '40s rural England?
Tokyo's unexpected green tinge
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