Week Eleven

Saturday 22nd March

Woke up full of the joys of Spring after the previous day's jaunts. Had planned a vigorous day's study but then Other Sister called out and I decided that going furniture shopping was a MUCH more constructive use of my time. After an unsuccessful few hours chest-of-drawers searching, I called up to see Chum's fantasmic new gaff. Had to head off early though, as there were vanilla slices to be made for dessert the next day, but not before shoving a fajita down my throat at top speeds as I waited for Dad to collect me (Note to self - get a fucking car Jen). Dad was taking suspiciously long however, and as my stomach tenderly cradled the part-chewed fajita and began the loving process of digesting it, my phone rang. What came through form the other end was basically a melange of grunts, vowels and jumbled up Swahili , ie, Dad giving out to me because I apparently wasnt in number 50, oh no. It would appear that Sandra has all this time been mistaken about her own address.

5 mins later I was standing out on the road waiting for Dad to drive past, and he pulls up, face like thunder. I get into the car and he starts eating the head off me "Thats not number 50 its number 51" Im like "Dad, it clearly says number 50 on it" and he then starts counting back from house number 53 "Look, 53, 52, 5..1.....sorry" He even went into number 49 and asked for Jennie. "Jennie who?" the fella at the door said, "Is this number 50" daddy said, "yeah" the fella answered. What can I say? Sure you'll have that in small towns.

Went home and whipped up some Leahy's recipe vanilla slices. They are simply glorious. I made them for the first time at Christmas, but this time it only took a fraction of the time as I didnt have to meticulously cut the puff pastry into the shape of a heart (dont bother - it takes AGES), which, it turned out, was completely POINTLESS as the person they were for never even saw them. Im sure the birds I ended up throwing it to appreciated it though. That personal touch, like. Was supposed to be headin into Chum's for a few sneaky ones that evening but was slaving over a hot pan of custard so had to decline, plus I was wrecked.

Sunday 23rd March

Easter Sunday hurrah! Headed into Sister's house for dinner - roast chicken yum yum! Really missed a nice roast chicken dinner, roast spuds, stuffing, and the reason sunday dinners exist - croquettes. Myself and Sister ploughed our way through a few bottles of whatever shite came to hand, think West Coast Cooler, Lidl Buck's Fizz, etc. The two of us were three sheets to the wind, to the extent that Daddy had to go home without me and we had to have a little lie down on her spare room floor, swiftly followed by nap time on the couch. Bliss!

Monday 24th March

Was supposed to go have The Magic Road Experience today, but shitty weather and lack of enthusiastic driver meant that it was called off. Instead, I ploughed through a spot of Dante if only to speed up time between then and the main event of the evening - BEEPING BINGO!!!

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept of Beeping Bingo, here is a short introductory lesson: Beeping Bingo takes place every Monday evening in the parking lot of the Wellington Bridge Community Hall, Co. Wexford. Participants park up in the parking lot, before going inside to buy their bingo books at the rock-bottom price of 3 books for a tenner. They then have a choice: either stay inside in the warmth of the hall and play bingo with senior parish members, or return to your car and open the window to hear the bingo numbers being called over a loudspeaker. If you choose the latter option, you must beep the horn if you get a check, at which point you must stick your hand out the window of your car, maniacally waving your bingo book. Once spotted, your car will be approached by a member of the bingo team, your numbers will be checked, and if correct, your prize will be hand delivered to you as you sit in the comfort of your car, buzzin off your head.

Needless to say copious amounts of fun were had, photographic evidence was made, and after Sister won a whole fiver (in coins, mind) and used it to mop the sweat from her bingo-wearied brow, there wasnt a dry seat in the house. Fun times!

Tuesday 25th March

I definitely did something wondrous on Tuesday, I just have no idea what it might be.

Wednesday 26th March

Went into Geoff's for a few sneaky little cheeky little reunion drinks with my peeps from Digifoto. We laughed, we cried, we ate, but mostly we drank. Watched with glee as some underagers were thrown out. Its the simple things in life that give me pleasure. Afterwards Paul was given the priviledge of being dropped home in the Lurkmobile, and Lurk Eile and I were given the priviledge of his world-renowned hospitality, ie, a wave from the front door.

Thursday 27th March

Headed into town with Luk Eile the next day to pick her out a new pair of glasses, but alas there were no nice ones, so spent some time going from sweet shop to sweet shop in search of a few of Flesh Tunnel's favourite things. Keep him quiet over the weekend, like. Went home, luxuriated in the jacuzzi for a bit, then packed my bag in preparation for a (not so) dirty weekend. Later that evening, I heard the unmistakeable wild cow moan of Flesh Tunnel's jeep blowing on the winds of South-Eastern Ireland, and I knew he was nearing. Ie still about an hour away. He pulls up the drive, just as Daddy is painting the inside windowsill of the living room. I prance out to the jeep merrily "Well!" Flesh Tunnels gingerly disembarks the vehicle, "Hows it going now?" he bleats as the colour drains from his face, which by now is contorted in a look of pure terror. "Well give us a kiss then" I say, puckering up. Nothing. Nada. Niente. I start thinking "Is he a gayer or what like?" but then I look up and see him anxiously eyeballing the sitting room window, convinced Daddy is giving him the evil stare of death out the window. What he doesnt know, is that Daddy wouldnt give a flying fuck if he stepped out of the jeep in head to toe gimp gear, with cloven hooves. This didnt seem to quiet his qualms, which resulted in me having to lug my suitcase out to the jeep unaided, as he sat there and waited for me to load it in. Hmmmm. Not an impressive start to the weekend, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, as the mere sight of my father's fearsome moustache is enough to strike fear into the heart of any grown man, let alone one who doesnt appreciate the oral ecstacy of Babybel.

Cut to 2 hours later and we're in his house, which, Im shocked to discover, is very tastefully, and might I add creatively, decorated. For a fella with flesh tunnels, like. No bloodstains on the walls or previous girlfriend's body parts lying about. Good, good.

Friday 28th March

A little note about snoring, people. If you do it around me you can expect to be murdered in the most horrific way possible using whatever implements come to hand. I can't cope with it, like I just can't fucking cope. So imagine my dismay, when lying there all jimjammed up, having successfully gotten past the fact that I can see through his earlobes, he delivers an earth-shattering snore RIGHT INTO MY EAR. Like he may as well have crawled into my ear and hand delivered it to my eardrum. The red mist was teetering on the edge of descent. "ACTUAL NAAAAAAAAAAAME." He narrowly escaped a grisly death by giving me some earplugs, luckily enough for everyone involved. I mean, NOONE wants to clean THAT up.The weather was pure shite so all hopes of going fishing were abandoned and in their place we went for a big spin up the coast of Clare. After a lovely lunch we headed home and made sweet love to some fajitas. All seemed to be going well, until he tried to dutch oven me. Now, Flesh Tunnels. Flesh Tunnels, Flesh Tunnels, Flesh Tunnels. Dont you know that NOBODY beats me at my own game?

The middle of the week went well for the Diet but unfortunately once I hit Limerick all hopes of watching my financial weight were shot to pieces. Well, I WAS in Limerick like.