Monday, Monday, Monday ...
After the sweltering weekend … (during which the one and only marble withdrew not only to his hammock, but then left the cranium altogether! I'm telling you, the cranial window was thrown wide open and all post it notes were scattered and origamified) … I think I just about have it together.
Fermata was also just about holding onto things. He managed to sit with me and have his noms but, after that, it was all too much and off he went to sit by himself, stare out into middle distance (of course he wasn’t sizing up the birds) and contemplate life, the Universe and killing small things (No! No! I already said he wasn’t looking at the birds… although it could equally have been the rats as I keep finding headless ones in the middle of the driveway … though that’s probably Killer Queen Lady Clemence’s handiwork ;-))
Anyway, back to all the this, that and the others that I was going to talk about.
Although … hang on a minute … (furrows brow, counts fingers and toes) … yep, yep, I think everything is present and correct, so let’s carry on ……..
I used to go The Journal to get my snippets of Irish news … however, they’re pretty quiet on the things that matter these days. You see, I began to wonder how come all the usual articles relating to our illustrious leaders had somehow magically meandered off … and then, I discovered the (ahem) delights of extra.ie. So, now I have a low budget cousin of the Daily Mail to keep me up to date with such fun headlines as “Hiss-teria in Cork after snake found slithering through street” … “Sketchy behaviour: Gardai not fooled by ‘pencil and crayon’ insurance disc” … and “Ryan Tubridy: Our trip to Wimbledon was in 30C heat so my Pimm’s was practical”
(puts head in hands … bangs it on table)
At least I spotted the headline regarding October’s budget … which means I now know that there’ll be no giveaways. No assistance for any of us. Those poor poly-tic-ians are obviously in need of another pay rise and bunging a few readies in the direction of the ‘vultures’ that pray on the Emerald Isle’s population from the shadows. And then, having read through that cheery little article, I noticed the one regarding the Dublin drug running and the ‘motherships’ that drop off the ‘sweeties.’ I confess, that all I could think of by then, was ‘A mothership you say? A mothership? A spaceship mothership? Something I can get onto in order to get off the globe?’
Ach well … I can dream. ;-)
Time to sign off. One day my (mother)ship will come! Until then, it’s breakfast ahoy … then building a trebuchet … and, if all goes well, I’ll be hefting humongous cabbages in the general direction of the generals and knocking some sense into their brain free noggins ;-D ...
