5X has returned to these shores, albeit briefly.
He summoned me to ale last evening. I had been out thrice already in the week, so when I arrived in John Mulligan at 4pm didn't I order tae. The cheek of me. This did not go down at all well when my king nemesis - residing nowadays in Paris, you remember - arrived in a whirlwind of Fennellness.
He remedied the situation for me, fixing me with a stout and that most devilish of grins as I supped meekly and brokenly on my porter.
He's more 5X than he ever was, loving the French way of life, a divil for the romance. I didn't stick around long but promised him I would cross his path before he goes back on Tuesday. At that stage Gersende had shown anyway, as well as Fell and Dave Delany, so I knew I was leaving him in good hands, the shindig only starting. Me? I was in bed by 9.30.
Monday had seen me in the Ferryman with Johnny, finalising wedding arrangements and the order of the speeches. I am to be a toastmaster, no less. That was a term new to me. Anyway, once I'd taken stock of my best manly duties - to be carried out a week from today - we went for a few crafty halves and banter. No better men than the two of us, I figured.
Wednesday night I was at the Olympia via the Stags and later Brogans. The National played powerfully but it was a little fleeting for my liking, barely got an hour out of them. No matter, it ended as it began, with myself and Cowzer and Ollie and the belle setting the world to rights, as it should be.
What was Thursday? Oh yeah, Dave and Emma Nar took a thirst and led me to Bowes, but aware of my 8am start the following day I kept it to five lager beers and went.
Consistent drinkage throughout the week, but only Wednesday did I go beyond the call of relative sobriety.
Off tomorrow, which pleases me. Have to finally write this speech, have found myself jotting notes throughout the week and I think it'll be good to go by tomorrow afternoon. Taking her handy tonight, gonna put on Apocalypse Now for myself there.