About Me

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Typical Piscean, dreamer, story teller in the tradition of my country, I love to write. I'm not sure that I'm any good at it, but getting the words down has its reward.

19 August 2015


I took this last Saturday while sitting out in the front garden.  OH was busily cutting hedges making the best of what was to be the first of four fine days.

This summer, to loosely call it that, has been alternately cold, wet, foggy and miserable interspersed with beautifully warm days with chilly evenings.  Galway has been left off the calendar; weather-wise there is no point in sitting on a train watching fog across the country to arrive with a downpour in the City of the Tribes.


Madam Pounce sitting contemplating her next bird attack.  She is fourteen and still going strong.  I dream of a civilised cat to replace this maverick with the fast paw and quick and bad temper.

Maison Madame Pounce


OH's first attempt at a bird table; balanced on the trunk of a cordeline and his excuse for it's drunken stance is "Drainage my dear, drainage!".


Show off!

On the Foxfront, we have lost our brave adventurer, we found his headless corpse hidden behind some gorse.  Miss Pretty, his mother, was keening for him one evening, and about two days later we found the grim remains.  On the brighter side of things, his sister has survived, and blossomed.  Both Dash and Miss Pretty are very protective parents and she is well cared for.  She is passing through her fox teens, and bids fair to give Mum a run for her money in the glamour stakes.


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