Not at the parade

Had a spectacular Grit collapse today of the sort that I do especially well, even though I say so myself.

Related, I suspect, to that party turn I can perform where my face swells up like a purple helium balloon then my skin drops off.

I was forced to cancel the craft stall I had booked, where I was hoping to sell my new jazz number. Anyway, it is one good reason for not telling anyone where I will be, because there is a high probability, I won't.

But the elegantly supine Grit meant Dig (who is fortunately at home en route for HK via South Korea) had to ferry about the Gritties Juniors to today's events. To wit: parade of giant puppets where they are proudly (I hope) holding aloft the giant faces they have spent the last six Mondays composing, plus the Hat's party bash by the lake, where there were guaranteed to be choirs and guitars.

So I have no pictures on a day that should have been busting with them. I did, however, capture the view of the jasmine from the hammock.*

I can tell you, I am a crappy person to lose health. I do none of that brave to the last sort of dignity and composure. Absolutely not. I am kicking and screaming my way into this next new phase of my death-in-life.

*The hammock wot I made from an old football goal net and two chunks of tree because I am too mean to buy one. And I bet you did not know there is quite a bit of geometry to get right in a hammock, did you? Get it wrong and the bastard hammock pitches you face forward into the brambly bush. I got Squirrel to test it for me the second time round.