Sultry and muggy today - a lesser pace to start with than yesterday but Fitzbilly will be relieved to know I have done a few household chores. Not ironing though - that would be a step too far. I have perfected the art of precise folding as far as sheets are concerned and an air of shabby chic as far as I am concerned. (possibly just shabby)

The hedgerows are having another burst of mad colour - this time a medley of montbretia (fealeastram dearg), meadowsweet (airgead luachra) and  ragwort (buachálan buí) caught my eye, often seen accompanied with purpleloosestrife and fuchsia for extra jazziness.

The last events of the Literary Festival this evening and I am going to two:  first up Emily Wilson  will be talking about her translation of the Odyssey, the first time a woman has attempted to translate it into English.  And then the next session is the couple responsible for the West Cork podcast - sad tale that has preoccupied everyone in this area for over 20 years. I'll report back. Himself will be joining me for this one.

First a swim. Catch up tomorrow. 

And Arachne and I had a weird moment yesterday!  More might be revealed later!