Ruby&Ruch

I wonder whether Burt Lancaster, as the waves lapped over his feet and with Deborah Kerry’s lips clamped to his mouth, felt just a trifle cold? 

I know that it sounds improbable, but as you get older even the most enticing scenarios can be burst in upon by the natural elements. It’s to be sure that he felt wet – from the waves! Blimey you can’t say anything?

If you could get a real close up could you see goosebumps? And a second after the take, was Kerr spitting out salt water and running for a towel and a hot cup of tea – bet she was. 
It’s easy to imagine that living in the south of France that you spend all day, every day, sipping cocktails by the azure pool as the sun toasts you to a lovely mahogany colour suitable for the occasional rub over with pledge polish. It’s true that for a good few months of the year I do have the distinct smell of lavender about me, but today listeners we are talking ‘life not film’, as Deborah said as she took up her Bovril.
Welcome to Dr Prosaic’s book of compost.
As a family we have moved over to the Dowding method. This does not involve large scale bombing of the garden from twenty thousand feet but the building up of several inches of compost over the current ground surface. I’m not sure which method is easier – the first could be messy and to be sure could even spread the weeds around, on the other hand it would complete the remodelling of the field more quickly. Obviously I jest, it’s the more smelly second method but at least it has the advantage of no digging ( so does the first – you cry) and it’s a little more socially reasponsible. 

So that’s Charles not the Air chielf of bomber command to which we are referring.
But we’ll still be having the Bovril, after all eternity is along time and the sea even with Burt Lancaster in it is chilly!