A newcomer

Another day of two halves: grey morning, damp patio followed by sunny afternoon warm enough to walk in t-shirts rather than jackets; feeling like death with aching shoulders and arms followed by a walk, in the latter part of the afternoon, which left me feeling more normal. Apart from Italian (in bed - not an Italian!) and a small washing hung on the line, I did nothing until about 3pm, just moped around looking at social media and finding some lunch. Himself, however, managed to find the time to hang my most recent completed watercolour on the wall - we're running out of space, but it seems quite happy with a watercolour by a Prague artist rather than being overwhelmed by the photos among which I had thought of hanging it. (It's my preferred finicky pencil/watercolour small-scale painting -  of Matera in Puglia.)

This afternoon took us up the road between the farms at Ardyne, where we came across a gang of five young black bulls who all crowded to the gate of their field to observe us as we passed. So we sang to them - we long ago discovered that these beasts seem to like singing - giving them the Sanctus and Benedictus from the Kilbride Mass, complete with Hosannas (as you do). They fell completely silent and still - not a fidget nor a tail whisk, but immobile and gazing at us. Brilliant. 

We ended up with a quick walk along the beach road just because it was lovely, though we were much talked at by a random woman keen to tell us all about herself as her adult sons stood looking sheepish. Very odd. We remained civil ...

And for once I'm writing this before dinner, as we have another busy day tomorrow and I need not to be so late abed. 

Extra not of the cows, for they were a bit black, but of the yellow irises by the road and the lushness of the fields.