Under his wing

The day began with a trip over to Carl's place to catch up with Hollyoaks (not one of the better omnibuses, really). The Turkish Grand Prix was due on TV at 1.00 pm I expected that we'd watch it, but nice weather outside exercised an irresistible power and we went out instead, first for pub-grub carvery lunch locally, and then over to call in our friends in Bray for a pleasant couple of hours chatting in their back garden.

I dropped Carl off at his place and went on in to town, planning to pick up a copy of Ian McEwan's book Atonement, which Carl had with him in Zürich and which I'd begun to read since he'd left it in my carry-on bag from the return flight and I'd finished the latest (and hugely disappointing) Nick Hornby opus Slam. I'd previously twice devoured Ian McEwan's Saturday, and had half-heartedly made my way through his Enduring Love. Carl hadn't taken to Saturday at all, but was full of praise for Atonement. He's right: it's brilliant, and definitely the best of these three. I'd got half-way through or so, and just had to get my own copy so I could finish it. Unfortunately I was too late getting in to town to catch the bookstores before they closed, so I took a stroll through Stephen's Green instead, hoping to catch a better blip than what was already in the bag.

It had been a lovely day, though quite hazy. The sun was still shining and the Green was crowded. This shot was taken as I left the Green on my way back to my parked car. The sculpture dates from the late 1960's and is a memorial by Edward Delaney to Irish patriot Theobald Wolfe Tone. The pair of young lovers aren't part of the memorial.