hail to the sheep

We drove to Limerick for the day today listening to a selection of music (Babel soundtrack, Springsteen's The Seeger Sessions, The Beatles Love, and Donald Fagen's Morph The Cat), oggling and cooing over the new spring lambs skipping around the fields by the River Shannon, practising our monarchical hand waves as we passed them: wrist, wrist, elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist.



While driving, we listened to the radio news. In the news today is the stomach turning story about an inquest into the death of a baby 34 years ago. The newborn infant died of massive hemorrhaging due to multiple stab wounds. It turns out that the infant's mother gave birth to it at the age of 11, who was impregnated when her brother and other family members raped her. The grandmother stabbed the infant to death. Good thing this isn't a US story... the USA Network made for TV movie would be out next week. Not to be flip, but what else can you say? "Eww, good lord... that's effing horrible!"?


And on a lighter note, I rang Tesco Clubcard (an Ireland and UK grocery store chain near us, who have a club card scheme which gets you points and discounts) to change my address because I haven't done so even though I moved over two years ago but have still been using the card. They told me that the name and address on the card didn't match my details and that all the points I've accrued since 2004 have been given to someone else. There's a Molly in Donegal, but it's not me... I'm not even on file. The guy suggested that I mixed my card up with someone else, but that card's been in my wallet since it came to me in the post, and back then I wasn't sharing a gaff with anyone so that was out of the question. I've written a nasty letter to them. We'll see how that goes. Who knows? This could be fun!