lammas

On the first of August, the feast of bread, one would, ideally, be in Lyon or some other town of Lugh's, eating baguettes with sweet butter and golden honey and rereading the deeds of the spear-wielding, omnicompetant hero at the battles of Magh Tuireadh. But my own Balor of the Baleful Eye is the clockface, and I have things to do.