Tuesday morning saw me being accosted by Frankenkeith as I passed his house on my walk to work. He was togged up in walking gear and accompanied me along the road and thence onto the footpath through Empacombe to Cremyll. The headline shot shows Frankenkeith catching up after a brief convenience stop.
I must say it was a pleasure to have Frankenkeith's company; we blethered on about little of consequence throughout the trog. I may have confused him slightly with the waving ritual, however. The waving ritual may not be well known except amongst the cognoscenti, but it effectively consists of waving to Mrs The Millbrooker from specified locations along the route. This works well when she's actually there but may appear less successful at times when she's not even in the same county. Don't knock it; it keeps us happy.
We reached Cremyll with plenty of time to spare. I boarded the ferry to continue my commute to the railway station and Frankenkeith handed himself in as an ideal specimen for a well known local business.
Thanks for your company, Frankenkeith; enjoy your trip to foreign climes (he never stops, you know).