Wetland Row

That's Westland Row in Dublin (forgive the pun). Left the wean with the wife as she was leaving work and roamed the city for a couple of hours, looking for photographs. As with the docks, there is always something, some stray little riff, a lone figure in a scale, a note that ramifies (for me anyway).

Caught a bus to P and E's later and had a lovely dinner (I brought the wine). Watched a movie with them; E falling asleep, exhausted after hitting the town with her pals last night. Then a taxi home for a change, a youngish driver in a big roomy comfy old Merc, reeking uncomfortably of super sweet air freshener.