My head. My lovely, sweary head, is in ribbons. It happens.
A very public apology to Annie for missing the launch of her book but it wasn't for want of trying.
I explored the by-ways and lo-ways of Stoneybatter in an attempt to find The Joinery last evening, but no dice. If there's a 'fuck you' in here, it goes out to Google Maps and a taxi driver who kept trying to bring me to Capel Street.
"No, no, COWPER Street. COWPER... Fuck it, let me out here, I'll go by foot."
A mini-market, a row of bungalows, an angry looking Manchester United fan but no conglomerate of blogging sorts.
Bested, I ended up in Kehoes and John Mulligan and concluded this week of bar-room hopscotch with a curry chips and cheese, with a side order of spice burger.
My body is a tempest.