Dry, well...

It's not quite the delicate colours of the sky and a big moon above the olive grove, lambs gently grazing that I could see and envisaged as my blip, but just the bit where I could stop the car on my backroad to work, inappropriately for the moment, named Sa Font Seca (the dry spring).

All are feeling a lot calmer, Agu went back to school and is currently drawing a picture of his gruesome wrist. His stitches getting an airing this evening. The boys returned from Big Agu's having eaten, but have managed to down an extra plate of noodles. Bottomless pits.

Flights are booked for England at Christmas, and my bank balance is running dry....

a bit of peace