Sunday, January 24, 2010

Feetonfire

After weeks of sobering thought, no drink, millions of walking everywhere, irascible shopkeeps, flakes of snow, puddles of cold brown effluent, 7,815 episodes of The Sopranos, cellulitis and baked fish fillets I took myself pubwards this weekend.

Nothing to tell, really. Just another white shirt with the top button open, we are legion, suckling bottled beer to stave off utter destroyedness. Circumstances brought me to Shelbourne Park last night - a fine medium rare steak and a ten euro winner on the last race, dodging PETA barrackers on the way out, that kind of thing.

I'm on my holidays, taking off tomorrow in search of some words for myself because the ones I have are as creaky as the 1989 Ford Fiesta parked outside. There'll be nothing to see here for a few days but that isn't anything new, profligate at the best of times, me.

5 comments:

hope said...

Go forth and have fun!

mapstew said...

Happy Holidays!

(Get Drunk!)

:¬)

Kath Lockett said...

Well if you feel like a 1989 Ford Fiesta, then I'm certainly on par with the 1993 Mitsubishi out front of our house - dented right hand light, shopping trolley scratches and stained back seat and all.....

And wouldn't you just love to know what the word verification thingy bloody well is today - 'bards'. I'm speechless.

Holemaster said...

I'm away off down Limnock direction myself for the weekend. Well, I'm going where Limnock people go for the weekend.


Word verification: Whorker
(Someone who works for Rupert Murdoch?)

Radge said...

Off to Limnock myself today, before I hightail it back to Dublin tomorrow, a still very broken man.