Cavorting hellhounds

 

Oisin and I wasted an hour and forty five minutes of our LIVES this afternoon TRYING TO GET FINALE TO TALK TO MYORGAN.

            We failed.

So let’s have some photos of cavorting hellhounds to cheer ourselves up.  Well, me up.*   These are the ones I promised you, from Gloucestershire last weekend.  Peter’s son and his family have this lovely loooong garden, dropping, in the sacred Gloucestershire way, like a plumb-line from the rear deck to the river.  Hellhounds, I feel, could grow used to Gl