It's coming, and soon! Tomorrow's my last day in Setanta Central until the week after next, and mercy me but I'm an excited man. Have been in remarkably chipper form the last couple of days, annoying the heads of my colleagues with my exaltations and hyper-activity.
They hate me. I can tell.
Hitting Bantry anyway, myself and the aul boy heading down to Sean and Kathy's glorious abode by the bay. Oh brilliant. It's the most remote place I know, when the lights go out at night not a shape can be made out in the dark, and total silence. The smell of burnt wood greets upon entering, as the house opens into what surely must be one of the finest cottages in West Cork. Hopefully I'll remember to bring the camera this time and I'll post pictures that people will pretend to be interested in.
We'll be hitting the Crazy Horse Saloon no doubt, as I put on my drinking shoes once more with Murphy's and Jameson in mind. Ten days off the gargle now. Remarkable how such a small feat on a global scale is greeted by wonder here in our drunken little country.
I mean, ten days, a week and a half, and I feel a medal of some sort should come my way. At least a bronze.
It took all my willpower not to sup last night though. Left work with the intention of getting on intimate terms with my new d*d*y box. I use asterisks because you never know what trouble those hoors at Google will get me into. All the channels under the sun for the price of 28 pints. 140euro in old money.
Anyway, I eschewed the couch to head to Bowe's with Juliannus Mirabilis. We'd intended on one, and I was on the non-alcoholic shite anyway, but bless her we got yapping and the clock struck half ten before I cried no more and sent her on the way to meet James.
Birthday plans are finalised and there'll be a mail going out shortly. What else? Keep away from yourselves.