A midweek weekend.
Hills and mist and Leffe and "Spaten Munchen Boy!" and my first time eating halibut.
Twelve-year-old single malt Bushmills.
A rocking chair.
Steak cooked as per maternal instructions.
Rain and more hills.
Mussels in breadcrumbs.
Twitching from internet absence. Football news on the mobile phone.
Two pints of stout as it should taste.
Clonakilty black pudding.
Rashers and a wall decorated in menus.
A yacht in the distance, probably not Abramovich.
A screaming baby left alone in the back of a car - this did not stand.
Two hours spent reading 'Easy Riders, Raging Bulls.' William Friedkin is a bollox.
The Crazy Horse Saloon.
12 comments:
I remember the Crazy Horse partially. But it was the fun part. Barca signed Villa too and Fabregas is on the way.
Yum
NotRuairi - Torres to join Scarborough according to my dream last night.
Mook - Yar.
It's a great little country despite itself.
Radge, you almost succeeded in making me homesick-especially the mention of rashers and clonakilty pudding.
It's been a year and a half since my last fry and the cravings haven't dissipated
Holemaster - Certain parts anyway.
Green Of Eye - I was going to try something clever with the words 'Canadian' and 'bacon' but, ehm, well, yeah. I have nothing.
I hate you for bringing out the jealous streak in me - again.
I came back here to feel good. Damn you sir, damn you.
Sorry about that Anonymous.
And Red, I'm not porn. Not until the adult off-shoot anyway. Welcome back sir.
Certain parts indeed. Certain parts of anywhere really.
Perfect, but for the child in the car. Makes me grrrr
What does one do - call the guards? Wait by the car and ask the parent for babysitting money? (You know how that would work out.)
Very grrr.
My da went and found the child's mother and she came straight out, but it was still wrong.
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