We're in the
land of my fathers! Or my mothers to be precise: Wales. And my actual mother is here, looking after her mother, while my aunt is away at the
Royal Welsh Show (where their
texel sheep picked up some big prizes). Yes, it's very rural around here, and we had a lovely drive from Manchester down through Snowdonia, stopping off at the small village of Aberaeron to meet up with Neil, the vicar who married us, all those years ago. Some prayer was said at our wedding about us having children so it's nice to know that Neil's still in good standing with the Almighty.
In other news, every baby born yesterday gets a special silver penny to celebrate sharing the day with the royal heir! I was born on the late Queen Mother's birthday and never got sent a single bottle of gin from her.
Pete with Father Neil.
Pete with his great-grandmother.
Four generations.
Pete with his grandma.
Pete with his great-aunt Liz (and a patriotic outfit).
Earning my keep.
