Another day, another dawn, but the Caillech and Lugh seem to be in a bad mood again. It's been raining buckets with a faint hint of sleet plus high winds. Maybe we should have gone down to Waitrose, Morrison's, Tesco or Sainsbury's and bought a pre-prepared sacrifice to put a smile on the ancient deities' faces. Hey, ho ...
We risked the deluge and walked in the very large,
Sheffield General Cemetery which is now a sort-of park-cum-reserve for the local fauna some of which wear traditional ethnic dress and smoke certain substances while skulking in the undergrowth.
Another puzzling activity of some of the locals is the desire to share their dogs excrement with all and sundry. You can be sure that the largest dog is housed in the smallest flat occupied by a Raskolnikovian reprobate; the crime seems never to be punished - I'll clean my shoes when I've finished my wanderings ...
