A sky…

on a Friday morning. Is that a front? Or a back? Or the back of the front, who knows? But a lovely gentle and wistful start, even the contrails are joining in and being artistic in linking the fluffy patches.

Contrails going to Lanzarote, Alicante, Gibraltar, Faro, and Stansted. Holiday dreams of screaming, over-excited kids, good old British bum-cracks lording it whilst swaggering or staggering down Main Street as the locals cower away. “It’s my right, mate, my ‘oliday, I’ve worked ‘ard at ‘ome payin’ for this…”. Ya see that’s where Boris ‘as got it wrong, innit? Stands to reason don’t it?

Dream on my lovelies, our dream is right here without the mucus laden lateral flow that drinking on that beach involves.