A T-shirt day in March (first third) and toddlers squeak, as peeps (a bird); the sun from hazed sky swelters us; Joe sits quite still; he makes no fuss to muss with Daddy's writing verse except to softly laugh - no worse.
Brendan is on the washing up:- sausage, egg, bean pans, coffee cup. Ursula's not so far astray; we'll pick her up upon the way and off to Delamere (the trail), to amble over hill, through swale, gauge the decay of winter's fosse for Saturn yields to Helios.
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