Sunday, August 27, 2006

Too many old socks.

My foot hurts. Quite badly. Was transporting a portion of my worldly belongings across Matt Talbot bridge last evening when I fell arse over tit and did my hoof a damage of some sort.

Moving house is no fun, and I've escaped the worst of it. Topmost kudos to Johnny and Aisling for taking my stuff and housing it in Drumcondra, this week saw a festival of packing and binding and breaking and throwing out of stuff. A headwrecker, I've escaped to Limerick city for a few days.

There was drink taken the other night. Hadn't seen the inside of a boozer since Brain Day, so come Friday I was dangerously sober and toying with a clarity of thought that, frankly, I'm not comfortable with.

Ergo headed to Neary's with the brothers Skehan and then on to O'Donoghues of Baggot St. Some lad playing a tin whistle, stouts lowered, left under a drunken cloud of my own making but hopefully the air is clear and bright and breezy once more.

5X is home next weekend, but sadly I'll not set eyes on him as it's a brief Electric interlude for the man and then back to Paris. Which I hear is 'gay' in the true sense of the word.

What else? Cowzer's started up another new blog at, he says he'll stick with it this time. Me, I never saw the point of moving on from Radgery.

So the next couple of weeks will see me alternate between this place and Anne's in Baldoyle. She has a plush little place for herself there so it'll be a few weeks nicely spent. AND we're moving from Prince's St into our new offices in George's Quay. Such upheaval!

One month, though, and I'll be skipping down the Quays to work. No, wait, make that strutting.

Yeah. Strutting.

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