It was a funny old day yesterday.

The first thing I noticed when I got up was the beautiful sound of Spring.

I opened the windows to listen to the blackbirds, the finches, the doves and the gunfire.

The gunfire sounded interesting, so I went down to the village to get the paper.  Sure enough, the villagers had caught themselves a tourist bus, and the tourists had tried to take refuge in the church.  That was foolish, because everyone knows our church is closed on a Sunday.

So I racked up my score a bit, and went home.

Last night, Herself got a bit stroppy because I was cursing at the Interweb  and saying rude things about servers that blow up, so I locked her in the coal hole and went for a pint.

Pullit served me my pint and we got chatting.

“What was that all about this morning?” I asked.  “It’s a little early in the year for large tourist buses?”

“Did you not hear?” said Pullit.  “Some feckin’ eejit has put out a brochure advertising this village as a tourist attraction.”

“Who would do that?” I said, though I knew it was just the kind of stunt Pullit would pull.

He looked all innocent.  “I haven’t a clue.  But we’re in for an interesting summer.”

“What does the brochure say?”

He went off to get me another pint and when he came back he slapped a brochure on the counter.

It was beautifully printed.  There were lovely photographs of the village which had been nicely enhanced to make the place look quite attractive.  There was a fancy little map showing how to get here.  Of course, the pub had a nice little feature spot of its own.

“It’s going to be a good summer,” I said.

“Aye,” Pullit replied.  “Plenty of sport.”

Printed across the front in nice Celtic lettering was the title.