LAST LEINSTER FAN REPATRIATED

At last, at last, my Dad is on our side of the water. He and Brother were transported by ambulance on Thursday of last week and though the difference to him is probably mostly psychological, to us, it makes a massive difference. Instead of visiting him being a lifestyle choice - the full-immersion Scottish experience complete with foreign accents ("Sit aweee doon there, lassie"), (yes, they speak thusly, and I love it) BnB breakfasts and hospital visits, and rest times spent in the Cameron Toll Shopping Centre, life can go back to a version of normality, and I can visit him by bus in the afternoon, in Hibernian English.
HURRAY!
He is getting better by the day, too, noticeably so. More Da-like every day.
And as if that weren't enough I am now esconsed (if that's the word) in my new shed/studio/outhouse and it's cool. I used to have the robust opinion that it doesn't really matter where you are, you can make art wherever you happen to be, in an plane hangar or a bus stop if needs be, but I tell you, what foolish nonsense! This is great. I have room! I have light! I am all inspired.
I really must make something. As luck would have it, in true feast or famine style, my clocks have been accepted into 2 different shows in July, and as a result of some last minute decisions on the part of a curator, are now double-booked. And since I still have not mastered the art of object-bilocation, (DRAT!) I need to scramble frantically to produce more.
Good! Should keep me off the streets. More on this later..
Your repatriated,
Twangy