Stone walls do not a prison make

We have a path round one side of our house and decided to put a high fence, with a gate, across it so that Grandson and (in time) Granddaughter wouldn't be able to escape from the back garden on to the street. Mr Life considered putting up this barrier himself but then we decided that what with his incipient arthritis, preference for sitting doing crosswords in chilly weather and perfectionist tendencies when it comes to doing-it-himself, it would be quicker to employ a chap.

So in due course two big strapping young chaps came along. They came, they sawed, they concreted and now we have a gate with a catch on it, nice and high up so that Grandson won't be able to reach it for fifteen years or so.

There is one snag. That's me on the other side of the gate. I can reach the catch fine as long as I'm on the same side as it but once I'm in the front garden and the gate is shut... no.

You'll be relieved to know that there's a cat-sized hole cut specially in the fence. So that's all right.

(Also, when I reread yesterday's post I saw that I'd said I wiped the remaining trace of yogurt in Sirius's nose. Ugh. That would be mean. It was a typo. I wipe it on his nose, of course, and then he licks it off.)

PS  Son and Daughter-in-Law heard last night that they'd passed their very final medical exams and are now fully-qualified GPs (or will be when they've finished their current work placement in August). Woo hoo! Well done, Dr P and Dr A!