This was taken on a recent holiday to Offa's dyke. Brynhildr was with me and Eingar had gone to chase rabbits. As I recall, Brynhildr was perched atop the dyke shaking her pendulous breasts at the pesky Welsh in wanton defiance. That's my gel. She is so much more fun than Edith 'Swan neck'. "Oh Flaxen does this bauble compliment the delicate lines of my nape?" "Saucy red haired tart, get me more mead!" Fuck, here comes Loki. Quick Brynhildr, let us hide in the ditch.
And before you ask, Offa's dyke is fine. She's looking radiant these days, she really is.