Not the Watershed

And there it was right at the very back, beyond the BenRiachs, beyond the Caxton’s, the A’Bunadh tried shouldering to the back, even the urbane an Cnoc was being naughty.  But the Current Mrs Creel assured me she had secreted a bottle of the Botanist where I least expected it.  So it was out with the tonic, lime, ice cubes and CMC’s hammock.  For today we have been afloat in a blue bejewelled twinkling sea.  It has been difficult to discern where the sky / horizon, sea are.

To celebrate I even planted some beetroot and carrots and harvested the asparagus.

In the distance Andrea Motis is performing an Emotional Dance.