My Garden Of Earthly Delights

Evening all. (that rather dates me)

I have discovered as I gallop towards my twilight years that a little tart does not quicken my heart as it used to in my dimly remembered youth !!!
As a consequence, while I sit at the garden table with my evening cuppa alfresco and my occasional hat-full of ripe,red gooseberries, I find it preferable to suck the sweet insides out of these fruits and discard the skins, lobbing them in the general direction of the flower-beds for passing vagrant blackbirds or starlings to do with as they will. Recently I have also noticed that, to my inward delight and my wife's quite open consternation, that our resident pot-licker (a papillon, no less) is prone to hoover up all before him which even vaguely resembles food and this includes those skins which occasionally fall short of the shrubbery. This as you can imagine, has an unfortunate effect on the frequency and quality of his colonic offerings and has his mistress nonplussed!
I make no excuses. I know I am sinful in taking delight in the discomfiture of both the dog and his mistress, but I am just a man of mere flesh and blood and am therefore prey to these little weaknesses and, what's more, I'm resolved to keep on doing it. My gaff-my rules!!!
Right. It's eight'o'the clock and I've had my cuppa and my fag. I am now about to hit the bath. All is quiet in my private domain. Most of the fence has been repaired (my job of the day) and, apart from a cock-pheasant this morning, nothing special to report.
Good night from my garden of earthly delights.