Moths again

Sunday, so it must mean work. Locked myself away for several hours writing a lengthy presentation about things called infomedia booths.

Noticed as I did so that there seems to be lots of moths in my house. A week or so ago I saw one or two lurking in my wardrobe wiping their mouths on the backs of their hands, and so bought a hanging moth repeller. Perhaps it is my own fault for writing a poem called The Moth Display this year, and lurking in the Booth museum ghouling at their boards of dead pinned moths. They have put their weird feathery heads together and decided to move in as punishment.

Then once I could stand no more of writing about infomedia booths, Lorraine called by, listening to Muse in her car. She likes rock music generally, as opposed to the diverse and lofty stuff I favour. We drove off to the sea, which was green and choppy, and full of white horses and people windsurfing, and para surfing and generally being hairy chested and manly.

I boldly took my shoes and socks off and stood at the edge of the water with my hat on, and Lorraine did the same sans hat. After this exertion we drove off to eat some Indian food. After which we watched the European final between Spain and Germany, which to my surprise the Spanish rightfully won.

Then a blameless and early night.

Below Brighton this afternoon.