Boys will be boys, bad boy, bad boy

When the neighbours came round the other evening for beer and cheese (when although we laid on tons of food we still managed to have more at the end than when we started, despite all eating and drinking ourselves silly), the conversation turned (as it does) to the subject of urination, and how much one would have to drink to write one's name in the snow. Christopher decided that it wasn't physically possible (he could possibly manage 'Christop' but definitely no more), but we reckoned we had an advantage there. One of our lovely neighbours, who didn't believe anyone would do it, is also very trusting, so when we saw the bank of snow she'd cleared from her drive, we couldn't resist ....



(No, it's really yellow food colouring from a washing-up liquid bottle, but I'm betting her shriek of horror when she sees it will carry for miles!)