This is the bad time. This is the day after the hangover, worse by far. Class tonight and nothing prepared. Same story. Typical Tuesday. Thankfully I'm not in work but I feel like a boiled and broken shite.
The birthday, however, was great. Travelled down to see the folks on Saturday, took it easy, then on Sunday we took a road trip to Dingle.
The place was deserted, I'd never seen it like that. Foggy and subdued, not a fat tourist or a camera in sight. My mam sent myself and my da into John Benny Moriarty's for stout while she visited my grandfather's grave, then joined us back there for black sole which was very pleasing.
Meanwhile, the lines of communication had broken down and Aisling was busy cancelling my surprise dinner in Dublin. Apologies to those who planned on showing up, it was so well conceived that I didn't heed the signs, signs so obvious to me in hindsight.
We left Dingle and hit Limerick again at 7pm. Birthday cake and telly, then the pub for myself and Radge Senior. Then home, and more drink, until in the dead of the night I turned my bedroom carpet a glorious shade of technicolor. My da didn't enjoy the wake up call, but he came through and fair fucks to him for that.