Phase one is complete.
Began with a casual few on Thursday, dipping the toes in, while it was a full somersault into the pool of disgracefulness on Friday in The Village. It got ridiculous for a brief time but marbles were recovered by 4am, and made stupid until 7 bells with John Boy and Michelle, home from Geneva.
Saturday was the Tom Baxter gig. Write this boy off at your peril. As Skehan remarked, "this is what it must have been like to see Jeff Buckley for the first time." Paddy Casey tried to spoil it all by saying something stupid like 'Purple Rain,' but the show was an absolute winner.
Didn't linger long, went home tired and emotional.
Sunday was a day of rest, did myself a damage by lamping my head off the sink in the bathroom, spent the rest of the day in the recovery position (spreadeagled on the couch, Stella in palm and Liverpool beating the shit of Arsenal on the telly. Quality.).
Last night took myself and the bould Julianne to the Elephant And Castle and then The Temple Bar. We both agreed it could have resulted in inebriation, but we steelied ourselves and took to our homes. Plenty of time on Friday for that sort of thing.
Come one, come all.