I'm so knackered, jesus. Probably what I deserve after going out late last Thursday and Friday, then spending Saturday-Monday in Castlebar, Ireland. The occasion was Rob and Una's wedding, and by 'eck do the Irish ever know how to do a wedding properly. Mind you we English held our end up pretty well, although I did fall asleep slumped on a table at half-midnight in the reception. Recovered, if that's the word, enough to let Keen convince me that drinking until 3am was a good idea.
It wasn't. Neither was spending two nights on the trot sleeping for less than 6 hours, in my clothes, on a small sofa.
Upon my return I was 3kg heavier than when I departed. Surprised Ryanair didn't try and charge me extra on the flight home. Got to work really late yesterday feeling not exactly awful, but not exactly great, only to spend the evening on the sauce again, this time at the Great British Beer Festival. Was there mob-handed, amongst a party of 12! Had way too much dark beer but was sensible enough to not take me up on my offer of my vodka when I got home. Phil, however, did take me up on my offer of my vodka and was proper fucked this morning. Bloody lightweight. Wish I'd not stayed up chatting shit with him 'til almost 0200, not because his conversation is dreadful -- mine is far worse than his -- but just because I really need a decent night's kip.
My holiday is almost booked and I'm as excited as a very very excited thing. I'm also somewhat terrified. A curious mix of emotions. I really hope the terror subsides soon.
Under Siege has been on for 40 minutes. What a film this is. I'd forgotten how good the cast is. I wish it wasn't on though, I've already got too big a backlog on Sky+ to cope with which is why I'm watching it live but it means I'm once again not going to get to bed 'til after midnight. And as I opened with: I'm so knackered.
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