I was much more for the doing, and less so for the writing about the not doing, this past week.
A few days free from Mother Internet.
I got back to it yesterday to catch up on the football stories I'd ignored, the financial irregularities in my online banking, the work I'd put off for three soulful days and the blogs I hadn't commented on.
My head, however, stays fixed on the few days of holidays we shared in her house, in Portobello and Howth, in the only Select Bar we know how to drink in and even Temple Bar. Temple Bar, with hats gaudier than a R***l W*****g, hilarious and terrifying but far more the latter.
Now for a redrunkening. Anon.