Ahh summer. The time of year that a monkey’s thoughts turn to fudge and crazy golf (eight different courses so far this year. Beat that suckers!).

It’s not easy being a three inch monkey in a six foot world, so this year the Professor booked a surprised holibag in a special town for midgets! We flew in to the local airport, but we’re still not sure where our luggage went.

Our hotel was but a short train ride away. The local export is speciality meat. Please do not be disturbed by the graphic scenes of a locomotive nature. We all have our livings to make, and it’s not for us enlightened types to judge the primitives and their barbaric ways.

It didn’t take us long to get settled in our hotel, though there was a strange smell of rendered pterodactyl meat on the air.

You may rest assured that though the cake shop was monkey sized…

…the portions were as they should be.

The locals threw us a welcome concert that evening. It’s not often they get such modest, glossy and heroic monkeys as me visiting their squalid little town, so it’s right and proper that they showed their appreciation.

You may rest assured that I have many holibag adventures to share with you, including a SHOCKING time at the donkey sanctuary.

But those are tales for another day.

This is the Moonlight Sonata shawl in Posh Yarn lace club blue stuff from many moons ago.

It lives with the holibag bunny sitter now. The Professor was all for wiping her brain and dumping her listless body out on the moors lest she divulge the secrets of his lab to the world, but I thought that might come off as a little ungrateful.

Besides, if we did anything to her just after we got back it might look suspicious. Better to wait and kill her in the autumn see how the situation develops.