Feet with matching blisters

Let me go on like I
Blister in the sun
Let me go on
Big hands, I know you're the one

There are things to do. They are done. Another chick has hatched. Another couple of trees are pruned. Proposals are written. Conversations unfold.

Mid-afternoon, I drive to Glasgow to visit Megan. She marched 50 miles over the weekend with the RAF around Gairlochhead and, unsurprisingly, she is blistered. The extent of the blisters is impressive. They are bandaged - but she shows me photos.

We hobble to a café and then around Kelvinpark. She’s in fine fettle, looking forward to a full summer of fun times - and a rerun of the march at Nijmegen.