Diamonds are forever

Lumpkin came over last night and knocked the arse out of another decanter and a further bottle of Port.
However, it was well worth it as I finally managed to get a look at those photos.
At first I thought that it looked as though the Bishop was attempting an exorcism on Mrs E and was trying to evict the dark forces from her manually. Under closer scrutiny, it revealed that he was in fact trying to recreate the story of Mary's journey to Bethlehem, with the Bishop playing Mary and Mrs E playing the part of the donkey. Having said that, on closer inspection it might have been more appropriate for the Bishop to have played the donkey...

Lumpkin went on to tell me that he is currently seeing quite a bit of some racey little number from the big smoke. He's got himself one of these iphone gadgets and showed me a picture of her and rather nice she was too - much younger than him obviously and I suggested that if he were to take her out anywhere, at least she could get in for free.
Anyway, he said that she likes to text him throughout the day but Lumpkin does tend to struggle with technology and apparently he didn't know anything about predictive text. Well according to him, she keeps angling to stay over after they get back from an evening out but Lumpkin has the cleaner round first thing in the morning and didn't want anyone to find out about this little sort. As it turns out, the cleaner is off next week on holiday and Lumpkin saw the perfect opportunity so when his little bit of skirt text him saying "Next week rather than having to dash back home, maybe I could stay late, LOL ?"
He replied "Next Week You Can Stay Late Any Time" but he didn't know about the predictive text and so just pressed 'Send'. What she got was:  "Not With Your Cludge Stinking Like A Trout"
A big bunch of roses and a nice sparkly bracelet has apparently resolved the situation...

I've got to try and see the gardener, Kipper, today. I went into the out house last night and thought someone had left a disc-cutter running. Turns out it was the electric meter. The bloody wheel is going round so fast you could sharpen an axe on it. He must have some powerful lamps in that greenhouse and at this rate I'm going to have the most expensive tomatoes known to man. His friends from the nursery in the blacked-out Range Rover were here again yesterday bringing him more tomato plants. One of them waved to me as they left, they seem nice enough, a bit young but pleasant.
You'd think they would have learnt how to wear a bloody hat the right way round though.