Item – L’shanah tovah.
Item – We’re spending Rosh Hashanah at my Dad’s, up in Brigadoon. We had mussels a la Marinara for dinner. We’re Jewish. Fuck yeah.
Item – Actually, as I said to my Dad (which made him laugh hysterically for several minutes), I’m not so much Jewish as Jew-flavoured. My mother’s side of the family are Catholic, so I am perfectly entitled to eat mussels on Rosh Hashanah. My Dad has no excuse.
Item – H and I are on holiday, and apart from The Grand State Visit to the Ancestors (are they ancestors if they aren’t dead yet?), we’re touring the North, poking about in ruined castles, admiring Norman churches, eating too much, standing about lost as buggery up to our hocks in mud on a ‘scenic walk’, that sort of thing. It’s great.
Item – Only place with wireless signal in my Dad’s house? Kitchen table. Umm. This is getting awkward and I am in the way of the vegetable peelings.
Item – Will check in again, err, eventually.