Morning, Idrone Terrace, Blackrock

Last night, after I put the wean to bed, I heard a sudden rattling, as if someone was flinging generous handfuls of gravel at the door and windows. A brief hail-storm, big blighters, set at least one car alarm going.

This morning, on the way to leave him into school, I stopped for a few seconds to catch this mix of blues, greys and copper: a wild, restless palette. Then I saw THREE GEESE, an arrangement straight off of Mrs Ogden's wall in Corrie, the creaky wheeze of their wings, a breath of fresh elsewhere.