Corrie the Hurling Dog

A day off after London to recover, although not really stopped for most of the day. The morning was taken up sorting out stuff in the garden and cleaning out the shed (after deciding at 7.30am that it was too early to go out for a run on the bike, and the cat could wait another hour to be fed).

Then Fi arrived. Fi (Fiachra) is our joiner. Well. I say 'our' joiner, he's not on some sort of retainer with us, and I knew him before he started laying our new flooring because I work with his wife, Susan. Anyway, afternoon spent nipping round to the flooring place to drop off the excess, popping to the tip with some stuff, and then getting in the way in various guises as Fi tried to finish off the work. Which he did. And damned well I have to say - if anyone needs any joinery done in Edinburgh give me a shout...

Corrie, the dog (or Corry, I can never remember how they spell it) is a wee bundle of energy, and after initial misgivings loves chasing the ball whacked by the hurling stick. And grabbing the hurling stick. And generally anything to do with sticks.

Work tomorrow. Damn.

Rejected blips:

Portrait
Handshake
Mad Eyes

p.s. I'm rather chuffed with the St Paul's shot from Friday...