My Granddad (he insists it's spelt with the DD) sent me this photo today. Its of him, my nan, my aunty and my dad before they emigrated here. I like my aunty's socks. And my Granddad's moustache. I don't have a story or anything particularly significant that goes along with it, I just like things that make up a history I'm a part of now but wasn't once. I've been to the house this was taken outside of- father/daughter pilgrimage to Surrey, so it was nice to see the shot in my inbox today.
A little update to the stop-smoking campaign for those playing along at home. It's been two weeks and although I'm ashamed to say I haven't passed with flying colours, I am happy to report I can still count the amount I've had on two hands. 6 in 2 weeks is still better than it was before. Unfortunately spending time with an old friend who has returned from a international sojourn with a new rolling skill has made giving up completely a little bit difficult. I enjoy having a chat with him over a coffee and a cigarette (or in this evening's case, a cigarette and some Mad Men) and that's not a guilty pleasure I want to part with just yet.
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