It’s all gone a bit serious, isn’t it? These days, I seem to be preoccupied with things that, in the old days, I wouldn’t have given a rat’s arse about. Balance of payments. Structural deficit. GDP. GNP. Back when I was a lad, mention of such things was guaranteed to send me screaming to the nearest tavern, but these days, like most of the country, I’ve suddenly developed an unhealthy interest in matters fiscal.
Damn. This will have to stop. I think I need a holiday, and I’m seriously considering a trip to the lovely Istria region of Croatia, a place I often visited in the good old days before the Celtic Wombat decided to go belly up.
Now, you might, or might not, be aware that Limerick is packed solid, wall to wall, with first-class musicians, while most of continental Europe has almost none, or at least, not the sort you’d come across in a pub. A good friend of mine, who has a little place there, got the notion to bring our finest over to them and see how they get on. This is a surefire winner, in my opinion, and I think I might take myself to Croatia to enjoy the enjoyment. Maybe for a week or so.
I’m just tired of all the serious crap all the time. I want to chill out in some charming little Adriatic village and send you rants from somewhere else like I used to do before. Enough of Merkel. Enough of Endakenny. Enough of abusive priests.
Enough of bastards everywhere.
It’s time for a bit of Bock time. Let’s get our asses over to Istria and have some fun.