Because I have a brother, I'll always have a fiend (not a typo)

It was my brother's birthday at the weekend - he's turned 30 - so Mum and Dad, with their usual generosity, put on a slap-up feast. For once, there's not much of a story here. Just family sitting around a table, enjoying each other's company and only occasionally descending into rows about Brexit. Rather than forcing jokes about a lovely afternoon, I'll let the pictures do the talking.

It's like looking at me, but with optimism about the future

Food? But look at all the lawn toys! Golf instead! Play now!

Oh...wait. Hummus? What was I saying?

My brother and his lovely fiancee

 Celeste insisting on washing up the cutlery. From a different angle, you could see a quarter moon. Think about it Tom.

Tom's game attempt to light his birthday candles in a stiff cross-breeze

For some strange reason, I didn't think putting a picture of a bare-bummed toddler in the paddling pool on the internet was wise. This will have to suffice.

A lovely afternoon was had by all. I drank enough beer to catastrophically wreck my diet and Lyn kindly drove the three of us home afterwards. Celeste went to bed nicely and I fell gently asleep too, stretched out on the living room floor (I wasn't drunk, I was just really tired - oh hell's bells, who'll believe that?)