Racing home

The new hens are settling in well although Sarah-Jane is quite obviously Queen Bee and the newbies quake in their boots as she stomps past, head held high. The kids are at windsurfing camp all this week, although the wind and rain has swept in over night. They have all got a wonderful golden glow to their skin and the two blondies have gone much lighter. The eldest is a dab hand at it. Yesterday a boy asked her for a lift to the shore. She said she'd go and get a bigger windsurf at which point he used a stream of foul language on her. Coolly, she told the tutor and carried on surfing past him as he was left flaying around with in sail in the water.

It's the Galway races here this week and everybody, but everybody goes. Builders get 2 weeks off for race week. Other work places shut for 2 days. Yesterday was ladies day and buses and pavements were a blaze of colour as beautifully dressed young women in hats and heels made their way to racecourse. The men were all in badly fitting suits with gelled hair, but hey, they'd made an effort. The norm is that you go to the horse races by day with a big group of friends, the dogs in the evening then off clubing into the night. Too much excitement for me I'm afraid. I was tempted to go on Sunday as it seems to be a religion here but I still can't get excited about spending a day in close proximity to 17,000 other race goers. I think I'll wait until I can get into the owner's enclosure.