Sunday, September 10, 2006

Hop, skip and a strut

This is me as a sprightly individual. Very much so. I'm in finest fettle.

Have been down in Limerick for the week, came down with a pure bastard of a virus that levelled me for, I don't know, three days or so. Would have done worse to others but my reserves are strong. Like oak. Beats chest.

Had taken the aul boy to Dingle for his birthday on Monday. It's not a town to disappoint, as many of you know. I had oysters for the first time in my life. They taste like the sea smells. That's my best description. Nice, but I'm more of a mussel man.

Anyway, the usual after that. Dick Macks, O'Flahertys, Fergus, visiting old friends of the aul lad, stayed with Patrick and Helena. Here, if you haven't been get yisser arses down and quick trot...

So, Monday aside I've not had a drop. This Tuesday is a month since Brain Day Eve and I have been out on the lash twice since.

Twice.

Once with Skehan and Noel. Once with my Da.

Twice.

In a month.

I'm slightly leaner, that's for certain, but my life has lacked a certain spunk of late. Too many nights in watching The West Wing over again on DVD, not enough nights springing my verbal dexterity and snappish wit on a suspecting yet strangely compliant audience.

Well that stops soon. Fitzbollix is back today, Skehan seems to have abandoned (once again) all pretensions to sobriety, and Cowzer is bound to be interested in an afternoon in the Stag's Head sooner rather than later.

And that's just the lads.

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