The turkey-obsessive is back. It must be Christmas or something.
Polysterene balls continue to fall out endlessly of the sky all over Ireland and since the last leg of the journey to the JB's home town involves some cliff-teetering roads and narrow bridges with low, flimsy walls (quite vertiginously frightening at the best of times), it is prudent of Bus Eireann to suspend services until further notice. Austere Kerry Christmas 2010 has thus been cancelled. The JB is already in the bosom of his family (so to speak), so we will be apart.
Ah, no. It'll be fine. No, really.
On The Day, since there is no public transport and my car battery is flat, even if I was able to dig it out, I am to hike across town to Brother's house in Dublin 6 to partake in some bonhomie, then retrace my steps home, no doubt heated from within this time by plum pudding and brussel sprouts. It's over an hour's walk each way from my part of town to his (more salubrious one). For some reason, this plan does not displease me, (This odd Spartan streak of mine conveniently rears its head in times of adversity. Methodist forebears, what can I say?) in fact, I am girding my loins in a siege mentality sort of way, (only without the bombs and actual danger). I am almost looking forward to it. Well, sort of.
(There may be the odd workaholic/bah-humbug taxi-driver around, now I think of it. I could try sticking out my thumb.)
It may well be that I will fill the empty meaningless blessedly peaceful hours with a post or two, so I might "see" you before then. If not, I wish you all the best, wherever you are, and whatever you choose to do.
Be well, one and all.