I once read a compilation of diary entries. The editors of the collection noted that the one theme that reoccured in every diary was guilt at not writing in their diaries more regularly. So I’m not going to bore you with breast-beating at not having updated the blog in a while.
My weekend wasn’t a great one. Towards the end of last week, I was living cash-free. My pay was going into my account at midnight on Friday. I’d spent much of Thursday and Friday, roaming the streets, cadging cigarettes from the smokers that line Dublin’s thoroughfares. If you’re interested, I find it much easier to bum a cigarette on the Northside than the Southside, and in DCU than in Trinity.
Anyway, on Friday, two friends of mine bought me lots of pints. I wasn’t in any way unwilling by the way, they didn’t hold me down and force-feed me Carlsberg. I got nicely drunk.
At midnight, pay had hit my account. I merrily walked to the National Irish Bank on Leonard’s Corner. I bought a box of fags. And a packet of biscuits. When I got home, the money-madness was still upon me. I ordered a pizza. And Taco Fries.
I was fairly sick on Saturday morning. I decided to soothe myself with a breakfast roll. And a muffin. Or two.
On Sunday, I was still fairly bleurgh.
I spent the day eating prunes. And drinking water.
By Monday, I had recovered.
But my little rundown cottage had no water. Try healthy living without water. Stoopid cottage. And stoopid old pipes. And stoopid cold snap.
The snow is lovely though.
I have cold water again. But I have to shower at work. I have a five-and-a-half hour break today. I could study and go for a nice long walk, but my main plan is a long, hot shower.