It’s not in the patterns, colours, textures or technique.
It’s in the main ingredient.
This lunch time’s petite friture de lieu jaune was supplied by the kids.
And we lived to tell the tale.
And before you go all “And?! What’s so shaggin special about that, buddy?” let me be more specific: we swam in the ocean!
And not any ocean I might add. One of the Northern Atlantic persuasion!!!
And it wasn’t the once-every-three-years-10-seconds-of-intense-pain ritual.
The in-scream-out-scream dash from the bathrobe to the icy cold water back to bathrobe for just as long as it takes one to lose a pair of testicles.
Today Mrs Raheny and I swam for a good 20 minutes!
And then only we were sort of delighted to wrap ourselves into a fluffy beach towel.
Because towels are like puppies and kittens: the fluffier the better!
Not so mighty if you ask me.
12 stones in and it’s already showing signs of weakness.
And the Finnzy-Bob is only warming up!
I’ll have to send a letter to Longford County Council, suggesting that they drop another skip or two of grade A stones at the waterside car park in Tarmonbarry.
We do stop there on average 8 times a year.
The view from outside the POW*
Sadly I will not see it for two weeks. Someone pass me a handkerchief quick, I can feel a tear coming.
My Out of Office message:
“Dear sender, I am on annual leave for the next 2 weeks.
For the first five days, I will be doing an intensive speleology course. I will be exploring shitloads of dark caves with no internet connection.
For the following five days I will be taking part in a diving challenge. Five whole days at a depth of 40 meters, with shag all access to the internet.
For the last four days, I will be visiting a friend on an army base… where you have to surrender all electronic devices at the point of entry.
In order words, I will be out of reach for the next two weeks.
In the event of an emergency, place a brown paper bag over your nose and mouth and breath slowly. It helps to prevent hyperventilation.
See you on August 12th!”
* Place of Work
Enjoyed a few quality pints with Michael and Vivian in the…ahem… lofty heights of Farrell’s.
We talked shite and had a laugh and watched life go by below us on Marine Road (it’s not quite the Atacama down there on a Wednesday night but you wouldn’t quite call it the epicenter of the fiesta…)
We almost convinced Vivian to get a smart phone. But he is too smart for that.
The ride back down to earth in the Elevator of Inebriation was fun.
It doesn’t take much to make us laugh. Not after 6 pints anyway (and a pack of Bacon Fries).