The man on the radio says he went out last night to The Gaiety, and on a school night too. As ever, I'm distracted so don't catch exactly what it was he went to see. 'The Very Thought of You' with Ella Fitzgerald follows as he continues to extol the acting virtues of Dan Butler.
Weather today is mild with a heavy hint of chicken manure. Still preferable to the chemical 'fresh air' that the shiny metropolis denizens seem to have a penchant for.
The larger size moths have hatched indoors again, so I'm vying with them for the light of the screen.
The water butt dwellers are also busy increasing their numbers whilst diving away from the twig missiles that the Rooks keep dropping mid flight. The guttering is beginning to look like a strange kind of legless porcupine with the amount of nest material that's landed in it.
Obviously time to put in my bid for The Umbrella (Ireland only has one) ... all sorts of things to dodge now the breeding season is well underway. If you don't hear from me for a while, I either got buried beneath the latest nesting material deluge or I'm now part of someone's nest ;-) ...
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Plants are more courageous than almost all human beings: an orange tree would rather die than produce lemons, whereas instead of dying, the average person would rather be someone they are not.
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