Whatever

The weekend starts on Thursday, according to some people. Well, some people would say that the weekend starts on Tuesday, but presumably they’re just reprobates, so we’ll ignore that. My weekend started on Friday after I’d finished a whole load of work and I was able to switch off and begin the fun part. First off we had a critique session where we had an opportunity to appraise my lovely friend Maria’s latest novel. It’s fabulous – an evocative tale of life in a nineteenth-century Italian peasant community, filled with colour and intrigue and mystery, and with a bit of night time eel-catching thrown in for good measure. It's definitely ready for publication and it's possibly award-winning stuff too, so well done Maria. After the critique session we retired to the pub for some refreshments and some of us, at least, later consumed too much whisky back at my place. The evening ended badly.

Then on Saturday, there came a visit from my crazy mad sister whom I love dearly. She’d been to a wedding locally and had clearly drunk too much champagne when she sailed into my apartment like a stately cruise ship, bubbling with her boundless enthusiasm. We went for a brief drink in a local hostelry and met up with a writing friend of mine who was sitting in a quiet, scholarly fashion reading a book. After my sister and her husband had departed for Wedding Party Part Two, I remained with my friend and our activities became less scholarly as the consumption of wine became more acute. Again the evening ended badly, I’m afraid.

On Sunday we’d been invited to a lunchtime party hosted by a nearby Indian restaurant. There was a huge array of delicious (and free) food on offer as well as an unlimited free bar. We were in delightful company but unfortunately I was unable to take full advantage of the bar because I had a play to finish in the afternoon, so I came home to work. With the satisfaction of having completed some work (however badly), I returned to the Hockley vortex to embark on yet another bout of wine-tasting. The evening did not end well, but on a separate issue I notice that this area appears to have become overrun with the Irish – they’re everywhere you look. Or could it be that they’re just being flushed out of their homes by the impending St Patrick’s Day celebrations? Hang on to your hats lads, we’re going back to Tullamore!