An Orpington resident was enjoying a barbecue in his garden but his joy soon turned to grief when he gesticulated in the direction of his shrub filled border and his wedding ring flew from his, cooking fat greased, finger into the undergrowth. His wife placed him firmly in the doghouse. Brian, a recent recruit and I arrived at 7. 30pm and by 7 .35 Brian’s trusty Garrett pointer detected said ring in the detritus under a conifer. He was proud of his best find yet and hubby, now released from purgatory, was relieved and happy. (Brian also has a knack of finding my balls – golf that is – even before I’ve spotted them.)
Andrew.
