Notes from Ireland I have to acknowledge, Irish Septembers are bliss.

Love that man

I must not petit four. Petit four is the mind-killer. Petit four is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my four. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the four has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. Slightly fatter.

It is our wedding anniversary weekend. This is our view from the hotel I chose 🤣🤣🤣🤣

I must not petit four. Petit four is the mind-killer. Petit four is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my four. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the four has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.