I'm blue, pissed off, broken down and barely myself at all. It was another one of those weekends featuring liquor, ladies, lads being bawdy, drumbles and drinking stupidly and longingly.
We made for O'Neills on Friday evening, myself and Johnny and Kev, and all sorts of others came a-panting with tongues lolling pintwards. La la la langered, but only after myself and Titface visited the Pearse Tavern* and the Ferryman and rose-ay wine in his place until the small hours, with Aisling sleeping alone and silently in the room next door.
God help them and the sight of me greeting them at their bedroom door the next morning, lusty for painkillers for fear of my death. Four bottles of Heineken and a Panadol Extra later I was flying, and at 3 in the day I left their abode for part two, which was to prove interesting.
Somewhat sobered up by now, I made for MacTurcaills with Emma and Owen. We met Etaoin there and progressed to Bowes. Great corner seats and lots and lots of hours later I fell home. It was with the awkward lament of a man who'd seen something good come and go in the slow blink of an eye.
It was with regret I failed to meet up with Rosie and the unknown bloggers yesterday, but I was a disgusting shadow of a man and Hogans was a better place for not having known me. Instead I watched the Spain game with a solitary can and a hurting gut in Emma and Owen's, silence in me and my mind akimbo.
My mood lifted briefly with lunch today. Met Denise on her break from work and she, as ever, proved the perfect salve to my battered ego. I won't see her now before my travels and her move down the country - a source of sadness to me - but I don't worry about our prospects. The friendship we got does not get undid.
*Shocker of a pub. Really. Maniacs aplenty. Haven for drug kingpins, prostitutes and butchers.