Surrey, UK
Soap maker, spoon carver, mead brewer, and (time permitting) husband and father.
Like joint pain, membership to the National Trust used to be one of those things that just happened to you as you got older.
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You probably have fond memories of summer. Those glorious six weeks that seemed to stretch forever.
It's summer. You can tell it is summer because the big orange ball in the sky is here and it's not raining as much.
Statistically speaking, you've been to one before. Probably as a child, probably dressed up in a weird outfit that you hated wearing.
At this time of year the British male develops an unquenchable need to barbecue.
You used to be able to sit down on a sofa without first checking for bits of plastic.
At a certain point after acquiring a garden, you will be overwhelmed with an itching urge to fill it with stuff.
The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, so food is always a safe bet. Beer is always nice.
Looking for a gift? As a good rule of thumb, nothing that's large, or noisy, needs batteries- or, God forbid, all three.
It's that time of year again when the pubs start getting emails about group bookings, and calendars (much like the wine) get thoroughly mulled over.
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