Not even the seagulls would touch it…
Oh what a drab, dreadful, dreary Monday morning it had been.
Until I bumped into dapper Dave that is!
Monday 2 January
A day of glorious sunshine.
My last day before heading back to the Mistake Factory.
It’s been a weird holiday, to say the least. A least I was able to fully dedicate myself to being sick. Without being interrupted by pesky work emails.
Today I got to pick where to go for our walk of the day. The East Wall it was. Near the Poo Factory.
I should have checked the wind direction before heading. For we were downwind from the biggest poo factory in Ireland.
A week after Christmas and its superabundance of rich food and huge rations of meat…
Nothing cheers me more on a gloomy Monday at work than a walk on the sunny promenade and a look at the flotilla of colourful boats scattered around the bay.
Unfortunately no boredom in store for me at the Mistake Factory this morning.
It was full on 100 meter dash by decapitated galliformes.
I could have done with a bit of mindless copying and pasting, gentle boredom and soporific inaction…
… il faut cultiver notre jardin.
Started the day in a really bad mood.
A great, cathartic, ferocious mood.
I kicked arse, I wrote cutting emails, I laid down the law. I swore more than usual.
And I felt great. Alive.
How hypocritical of me then to lecture Luca this evening about his intolerable, and not tolerated, use of swear words.
With exaggeratedly raised voice and prompt switching off of the Xbox.
But I didn’t swear then.
What a poor role model I would be.
I have standards, for fuck sake.