There are two puppies resident in the ground floor flats in the Quad below us. Each belong to different owners, though they live side-by-side. One owner has put up a fence around the piece of grass directly outside his front door so that his puppy is free to prance. And he does. He is a delight. We watched him last night, digging. (He digs and his owners comes out and replace the soil. A hopeless business.) I think he is a German Shepherd puppy and will no doubt grown huge. I told him that I sometimes think (more like fantasise) about us getting a small dog, a Jack Russell, perhaps. He poo-poohed it immediately. It wouldn’t be fair, he said. He is right, and I’m glad.
There is a shop on a corner of Pier Street that has had various incarnations. When I first knew it it was a deli, then it was a café selling Welsh fare. Its last incarnation was as a Potato Bar or Bar Tatws. It didn’t last long, they never do. All those good intentions. The signs on the window are still there. This morning there would clothes in the window. Another charity shop?