Week 13: Sixty three

We’re at the fag end of summer now. The wind carries a hint of chill, and the nights are noticeably shorter. I’ve had a quiet week.

  • Little E and I tried to catch up on our geocaching challenge this week and bumped this years haul up to sixty three. Still a way to go, but we might just bag the century after all.

    Fields near Riplingham. Last gasp of summer?
    Fields near Riplingham. Last gasp of summer?
  • My favourite shirt, which has been under my careful ownership for at least a decade, threw in the towel this week and headed off for retirement. Whilst in mourning, I enjoyed reading Ben reflect on the shirt that he has owned for 26 years. Being from from Yorkshire, I would rather pluck my eyeballs out with teaspoons than spend Β£75 on a single item of clothing. But then again, if I had, maybe I would still have my favourite shirt.

  • I can’t believe I’ve managed to do this for thirteen weeks straight.

From the net:

Some things I enjoyed reading this week:

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