Not A Bad Weekend At All, Considering …
Posted on Monday, August 25, 2008You know, I’d have to say things worked out pretty well really, in the end, despite a disappointing start to the weekend, which I won’t go into.
The Nut’s party on Friday night was great but nobody was ever going to survive it unscathed. I’m glad to say that the boat race on Saturday was cancelled due to bad weather, which was just as well since none of us would have made it out on the water anyway with exploding heads. I’d already decided I was fucked if I was going to drive any power-boat across twenty miles of a six-foot swell with my brain bursting out through my ears due to the drink. Impossible.
Of course, the party should have meant spending most of Saturday in bed, which was my plan, but which didn’t work out too well, due to people texting and phoning, and in the end I had to just get the fuck up and go to the market.
I’m glad I did. I had a delicious lamb shish-kebab in the Turkish café and after that conducted one of the nicest barters ever: I wrote out a recipe for a stall-holder and in return received a pair of plants. Isn’t that nice? Really, isn’t that what civilised society should be, all the time?
It rained, but so what? This is what we’ve come to expect lately due to global warming and the fact that we live in Ireland. Get used to it. At least we don’t live in the Sundarbans. We can work around it.
Now, I’d like to be telling you that I did this and that with the day. Useful things like building something or painting something, but I’m afraid not. The truth is that the hangover kicked in and I collapsed in the bed for the afternoon, waking at about six o’clock sweaty and drenched but refreshed nevertheless. Refreshed and ready for the next challenge, which turned out to be yet another night on the town. An interesting night on the town, as it happens, which turned into a mini-party chez-moi. With wine and fires and food and music, and some utterly ludicrous behaviour.
Torture.
And that leaves Sunday, with yet another sweat-drenched recovery followed by an evening of music in one of our local establishments. A wonderful evening of music provided by many accomplished musicians, complete with fun, irony and an awareness of our own absurdity.
I’m still laughing at this weekend, which turned out so rich in the end, and so absurd in so many ways.
Stumble it!
August 25th, 2008
Sundarbans? eh, what the fuck are Sundarbans? please excuse my failure to google
August 25th, 2008
Is it not the national park somewhere near Bangladesh?
August 25th, 2008
I (occasionally) find myself wondering when you do those mundane things like filling the washing machine or cleaning the toilet. Maybe you have an army of Latvian hookers who are glad of the change of scenery. So to speak.
August 25th, 2008
Bengal.
August 25th, 2008
Bollix — I don’t think it looks much like a park to the people who get subsist in the mud, but who knows? Maybe they enjoy it.
Nora — They’re good girls. Very handy around the house.
August 25th, 2008
Aren’t we all. :p
August 27th, 2008
Yyaarrr. Ok, my head is still crippled from the massive blow delivered to its legs by Sir Heineken. I too enjoyed Sunday night. Apart from a drunken waster being handed a guitar and TOLD to play, the harp player was nothing short of nothing.
August 27th, 2008
Cap’n —
I quite enjoyed the drunken waster playing the guitar, and singing too, unless I’m greatly mistaken. In fact, I may well have a short video of the occasion.