There’s a wonderfully poignant poem by Pam Ayres, about a racehorse making his will before a race.
Wish I could quote the whole thing, but it’s not in either of the books I have. IIRC he refers to his jockey as the ‘(something) little short-arsed bastard…’
Good Morning Saturday 27th April 2024
The Republic of Ireland and their tensions with migrants.
apple trees not flowering this year. Anyone else?
Passports not in the drawer I always keep them in. Turning the place upside down.