Yesterday we went to the island of Ulva for lunch. We took baps filled with cold chicken, and a little fruit, and when we had eaten all that, visited the little cafe to buy oysters and Guinness. Some of the children hadn't eaten oysters before, so we bought one plate raw with onion and lemon juice, the other cooked with butter and garlic. All eaten in short order.
While we were eating them, we saw the fishermen checking their creels for lobster, and fish being transferred from boat to van ... I should think that it's in Spain by now.
A grave matter - Reading Roger Lancelyn Green's Tellers of Tales* a few months ago piqued a latent interest in Andrew Lang, and discovering that he was buried in the ground...
1 day ago