Then an evening chat with second daughter, the Norfolk one. There were also brief convos with Anglo-Irish grandchildren, James and Emily. James and I discussed trampolines and I'm not sure what Emily and I were talking about. She might have blown me a raspberry.
Third daughter got her foxy door knocker screwed on.
An Urban Fox relocates to Cullybackey
Then Bert and I watched The Holocaust Memorial Day Commemorative Service which was dignified and moving. Even hopeful.
Afterwards, I said,
From now on I'm not letting anyone, anyone at all get away with saying anything racist, sectarian or sexist. What should I say to anyone who does say anything like that?
Tell them they should be affronted at themselves.
Tell them that they are the sort of people who would have stood by and let genocide happen.