Hoist up the John B's sails

Yep, an afternoon of WFH! Shirts washed and pegged out. Whilst working of course. And I've been engrossed, so I have, in Robert Crawford's magisterial tome (doesn't that sound suitably bloody lofty), The Bard. I was particularly delighted to find that when Burns stayed at Gatehouse of Fleet, where my forebears were living, he got 'utterly drunk'. Reminds me of my younger self, though he was only 34. He was dead within three years. A sobering thought. Mibbe.
Anyway, it was time to step to see Under the Skin at long last. Enthralling but slow. Loved the urban scenes. Jees, I felt like an alien too.
And straight home. Via the usual haunt.