Rooster day

Lorraine had a hen day. Off with Beth to Hotel Du Vin, where Rosie and her hens had a splendid time.  One moment where there were hints of a stripper, but the door opened to reveal a cardboard cutout of Innis in his life guard gear. The ladies also had a session learning how to mixing assorted fragrant oils. 

I had a rooster day. Main event a walk by the sea for thirty mins, which is a record for the week. Fish and chips later. Once Lorraine was home, we watched  Foundation on Apple TV. Enjoyably doomy and complex. And some footie too. Compelling Arsenal psychodrama. Arsenal swept all before them, amid talk of an unprecedented quadruple. After a disastrous couple of weeks, I find it painful to watch Mikel Arteta, Arsenal's manager, rigid with anxiety, as he stalks the touchline as glory slips through his fingers yet again. 

An actual payment came through today, via PayPal, for the poem Gardening With My Wife, just appearing in Ireland's Channel magazine. 

Below Lorraine and Beth waiting for a bus.