Saturday, November 20, 2004

Leaving on a jetplane - 16 days!

I am moving on from Ireland, folks.

What can I say about this great country? The restorative effect of being here since just August of this year has been truly brilliant, and should the cost of Just About Bloody Everything go down during the next few years, who knows, maybe I'll be coming back to live once more.

I am now just 16, sweet sixteen, days away from boarding my flight and getting out of here.

I suppose my landlady will be grateful. She has convinced herself in double-quick time that I constitute some grave risk to both the other tenants in my house, and may also be an international criminal. This conclusion is based upon just two pieces of information:

1) the old guy in the dressing gown upstairs who complains about noise every time I suck in a breath with a little more enthusiasm than is decent
2) the fact I have taken to wearing a long coat and flying in and out of the country on a regular basis

So this distress will end. I am grateful for that.

What will I miss about Ireland?


... everything being expensive
... in my part of town, the aggressively pert bodies of the local hyper-ambitious females
... Leo, the good man at the Internet cafe, with his inexhaustible supplies of grace and enthusiasm and all manner of tasty trivia
... Leo Connolly, my soul brother, a true Bohemian and keeper of the flame
... rain
... the enormous puddle at the corner of Mount Pleasant Avenue
... the sex noises from the little black guy next door, who supplements his R and B DJ sets by remorselessly pounding the pussy of any foreign girl with poor English skills who wanders into his orbit
... the washing machine that is constantly spinning, particularly between 3 and 5 a.m.
... the people upstairs who seem to chop wood and push furniture around their room all night

I think that's about it.

What a city! What a country!


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