The Birds

Unseasonably warm day. A poetry workshop in Ardgillan Castle, which I'd never visited before. It went well, I think, though they'd left the heaters on and the room was not just warm, but hot. Coming out, I was struck, stunned really, but the sheer vastness of the lawns ('turf' I think they used to call it) that unrolled a green carpet down to the expansive sea/horizon.

Driving back through Dublin, I paid a very quick visit to the docks. Not much abroad besides heat and pigeons: the huge warehouse doors were open so I knew they'd be inside on the maize 'cliff-face'. I stepped in and they unsettled immediately and swirled out just over my hear, a roof-river of whirring grey.

I drove over to the far end of the quay then back, and met a friendly security man, Tony, who was happy to pass some of the time, sitting in his car, talking about his time in the army. I called Peter and he invited me for tea, so I drove home, walked the dog, and got a taxi to their place, where their own newly acquired dog, a spaniel called Oscar, glared and/or growled at me the whole visit. I think he's recovered now.