Tattered outlaw

When fishes flew and forests walked
   And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
   Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry
   And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
   On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
   Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
   I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
   One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
   And palms before my feet.
The Donkey by GK Chesterton 

I was in the car, he wasn't but would like to have been On the loose on the back road causing a bit of havoc.
Library books back, cat food stocked, petrol filled, bag almost closed, fridge cleaned. I think we are as ready as we shall ever be. Himself still not feeling brilliant the painkillers have now knocked him out. I think we shall both be reaching for the chill pills as soon as we hit Dublin. And now we hear poor Joe has been stricken with something nasty. Hopefully he will have perked up by the time we arrive, possibly sometime on Thursday, Life is never straightforward.