Bread-truck monday

( I think that's the expression now. ) Preaching yesterday seemed to go OK - though I desperately needed a Potter's Cattargh Pastille. Un petit verre d'eau had to suffice.

I asked Ben if he thought one of my illustrations worked. He has certain drawbacks as a critic, though. For one thing he is of an encouraging character. For another he doesn't usually spot my foul-ups in French. Still.

Afterwards s small gang came back to eat - kids, students and young and singles. And the Griffins.

But this morning I feel tired and I'm coughing. Help, I'm a Welshman, get me out of here.

(don't worry - it won't last) ( it didn't )

Comments

Alan said…
I know a man who drives a bread-truck. It's a grotty job.
8:07 am
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