Returned

I am returned from Wales.
The North of the country is very different from the South.
They are VERY Welsh there.
We did a day trip to an area called The Llyn, where they blot out any English on signs and speak a dialect that Welsh speakers find incomprehensible.
Unfortunately we needed petrol and had to stop in a small village.
The petrol station was basically a lay-by with three pumps.
They also don’t trust you to fill you own tank.
A Yeti of a man appeared at the window and said something very fast and very ‘phlegm-y’.
Luckily the fact it was a petrol station limited what he could possibly be saying.
We worked out it was the keys. Obviously.
While he was doing his bit I told ‘M’ to only speak French to him when he returned and I’d go for Germish.
Chuckling, we were ready for him!
Bastard suddenly found a command of English, robbing us of our bilingual “Up Yours”.

The Garden has exploded in my absence. Everything has got big and ‘Fat’.
There is also a flea epidemic.
Murff is running alive and at the moment has been Frontlined within an inch of his life.
I’m trying to work out how to submerge him in the bath without injury to either of us.
I have leather gloves, leather jacket and a full-faced crash helmet from the attic.
I’m going to attempt to put some Frontline Sassy’s cats in the same gear, as I’m not sure how they’ll react.