Burry

Lorraine up with Betty in Kingston all afternoon and early evening which gave me a much needed opportunity to nurse my dreary sore throat and deaf ear and snooze a little. Nothing happened in abundance. Calliope tormenting the other cats, read a poem or two by Akhmatova. One of which mentioned the plant burdock. I couldn't picture this plant so I availed myself of Lorraine's book of British plants. Here I discovered all about The Burry Man of South Queensferry near Edinburgh. This is a man who dresses up head to foot in burdock burrs, and lurches around town accepting nips of whisky which are taken through a straw. He has two supporters who keep him upright when his labours begin to take their toll.

Otherwise wrote a draught of the liner notes for the CD. And watched junk TV till Lorraine arrived sneezing in the evening having had an excellent time with Beth. All well. Match of the Day. Bed.

Below: the burry man.

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