Amn't I fancy?

GrandDaughter1 messaged me on Sunday morning. "What are you doing this afternoon?"
"Going for a walk with friends."
"Ooh, aren't you fancy!"

Heck yes, I've got friends!

And just to prove it wasn't a one-off I met a different friend - my old school-friend - for ice cream at Verdi's today. I messaged GrandDaughter1, sent her a photo, and told her. "So I'm dressing up like a lady."

She laughed.

But I'm the one who was eating hazelnut basket at 10.30 this morning so who's laughing now? (I didn't have my regular Weetabix because I knew I was having ice cream soon. Instead I ate the two strawberries left over from the gannets' visit yesterday afternoon. Then having had my 'fruit' I didn't have to feel I had to have a fruit sundae. Cunning eh?)

I also didn't feel much like breakfast as George had just had a seizure. It was his first for two weeks, and just as we thought he was regaining a bit of strength in his legs.

And as for dressing up like a lady: I spilled chocolate sauce on my trousers. This is precisely why I don't.

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I read a recommendation on Polly's blog (I think) for The Heart's Invisible Furies by John Boyne. Ordered it from the library and very much enjoyed it. No, not very much enjoyed. It was too sad in places, and also quite explicit. But lots of funny bits too.

But what I noticed is that several times characters said, "I amn't."

I don't think I've ever seen this usage before. The novel was set in Ireland; is it a common phrase over there I wonder.

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My latest article for The Bay is all about bindweed both in the garden and in my head.