Everyman is a cormorant, sometimes.

I was trying to find an image of the cover of my book, and uploaded this by mistake.

As it's from the inside of the book I'll leave it here.

Its title is above, and the subject concerns those times when we feel that it's all just a bit too much.

When Mark (husband and over-doer) is challenged thus, he reminds me of a cormorant drying its wings — a gesture of hopelessness, a shrugging of the shoulders; not that birds generally have shoulders, and probably not feelings about the impossibility of everything.

Time to stop. Need to watch DVD episode of Life on Mars. We are addicted to it at the moment.