Random musings on current affairs, sport and the arts.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Walking the dogs up Killiney Hill on Sunday morning and suddenly everywhere in the dark dank woods are little clumps of crocuses - surreal splashes of colour, harbingers of spring. No uneaten sheeps' placenta fortunately and not a sound of the consumptive postman whistling the "Roses Are Blooming in Picardy". But it's coming for sure and the whole bloody business is starting all over again. Isn't that right Sam.