slice of toast

 Yesterday turned exhausting, like all the days in this holiday so far.Much of it was pleasant, but now it is just a tired muscular ache in the calves of the legs. There was a short drive around Tallaght yesterday, this was all a disaster, a strange feeling that Ireland has turned to the home of the motor car, and that pedestrians are no longer the norm. Bicycles are most likely a dangerous way to travel. Shop around in the Square, a mall that appears attractive to teenagers, all flouncing about in jogging suits, the girls showing off their abdominal musculature and the boys remaining cool.

At hom, spend a restful evening, all is well again. Avoid the in-laws, that is satisfying.

This morning runs late, breakfast for three. The son tries out the Marmite spread bought yesterday, on recommendation of a friend, and discovers it not to his liking.

Enjoy a slice of toast with marmalade, that is good.

Perhaps there will be more to write later on today, but not now.