Marty

What can I say? I at least try to be good. (Sometimes)

Here's a haiku (the purists amongst us may say it's really a senryu) I wrote a few years ago to describe how I feel sometimes (such as on a grey, wet, miserable day like today) about living in this rural part of the west of Ireland... Grey mountain ranges dark lakes, potholed roads, and rain... welcoming me home

SNACK Simon's not appreciating Connor's kisses DENIA(L)

*Marty resists the temptation to make some comment about "sloppy seconds"

Sorry... What were we talking about?

Not sure if Gary will agree with you there....

I suppose that's one way of describing it...

Hmmm.... Not sure I really like the overtly muscular guys quite as much as you and Gary so obviously do, Alberto...

I think Nate may have explained at least part of that in the joint therapy session...

Well I certainly didn't! I actually had to go back and see exactly what I had written.

Jayzus, Bucket1 !!! You certainly know how to quote out of context, don't you !! ??

Yikes, indeed. Mind you, I think it was incredibly stupid of the British and Irish meteorological offices 5 or 6 years ago to decide to start giving names to the storms coming in off the Atlantic... That just gave the storms big heads and made them think they were more important than they really are, so they have now started to become more frequent and more violent. Hi, Gary, by the way!

Hope dad's parents are okay.

That's what is often called "a day for the high stool" here in Ireland...

Apparently Storm Freya is tracking in from the Atlantic over Ireland and Britain. It appears that, unusually, Ireland may suffer the least from it. I say unusually because normally Ireland (being further west) protects Britain from the worst of the Atlantic storms. It looks as though Wales might bear the brunt of this particular storm... https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-wales-47432609

Yes, thanks, Albert. I started today off meeting a good friend for breakfast. 👬 🍴 How's your day going?

Right back at ya, dugh! Hola, Albert! Same to you, clo --------- Hope you're all having a good Sunday. Here in Ireland, Met Éireann have issued a status yellow rain warning (with up to 25 to 35 mm precipitation) for the rest of the day for much of the south, east and west of the country, a status yellow snow and ice warning overnight for the same areas, and a status yellow gale warning for much of the coastal areas. Sometimes I'm happy to be living in the (usually wet) northwest.

And that's the last thing I'd ever want to do! It's your story (and the characters'). What keeps me reading is wanting to now what's going to happen {and why, maybe).

The pieces of the puzzle slowly drop into place... I'm looking forward to Greg's next session with Uncle Farid. Great chapter interlude, Jason! I'm still missing Keigan, though

Now that reminds me of a story..... There was this guy who owned a pre World War II Datsun car. One day it broke down when he was out for a drive. Being a bit of an amateur mechanic, he had it towed home where he proceeded to strip down the engine and try to fix it himself. Finding nothing wrong with the engine he moved on to check the gearbox and found several broken cogs. Checking online, he found that Datsun no longer made the type of gearbox that was in his car, nor was he able to find a second-hand one for a car that old. Taking the bull by the horns, so to speak, he emailed Datsun's head office in Japan asking for help. They informed him that they had just the cogs that he needed, and could fly them out to him if he wished. He decided, just to be on the safe side, to not just order the broken cogs, but also a complete set of all the cogs that were in the original gearbox. He also chartered a small plane and pilot, because he wanted the parts as soon as possible, as he was anxious to get his pride and joy back on the road again in time to enter it in a vintage car rally that was coming up shortly. Datsun crated up his order and put them aboard the chartered plane. As the plane was crossing the Sahara Desert it developed engine problems and started losing altitude. The pilot realised that the only way he would reach the nearest airport a hundred miles away would be to jettison his cargo. He dragged the crate containing the cogs to the emergency hatch, opened the hatch, and tipped up the crate, so allowing the cogs drop out though the hatch. On the ground below a camel caravan was trekking across the desert, each camel being tied to the one behind it with a length of rope. The owner of the caravan was sitting on the camel at the front, and his son was on the ground leading it forward using a rope that was tied to its halter. The man was leaning back so that he was looking up into the sky. The small plane was so high that the man didn't notice it, but he did become fascinated by the light of the sun reflecting off the shiny new cogs that were falling from the sky. At first he couldn't work out what he was seeing and wondered if these points of spinning lights might portend some miracle or disaster being sent down by the Almighty. But as the spinning lights got closer he finally realised just what they were. Leaning down slightly, he called out to his son: "Look, Nazif! It's raining Datsun cogs!"

Well that was a bit of a waste of an evening. There was absolutely no light in the sky to chase with my camera at sunset... Ah well, at least deciding to go and chase after some got me out of the house for an hour or so.

That sounds a lot more biblical than the expression I learnt: raining cats and dogs....

Boys and their toys.....