Like a bad penny

I'm a bit busy thesedays, but I felt the need, the need for speed - no, creativity - otherwise known as the blogsuperhighway. My life continues its meandering journey, and I've a few things to declare, but I'll do that with yous face to face. Other than those things, of which the keyboard must not speak, here are the rest of my sins. I've taken up snooker once more with a new friend, Robert, down here in Maynooth. He himself was doing a Phd for a while there, but discontinued it, so now we can play a few frames while discussing the contingency rather than the necessity of the pots going where they are supposed to. Robert's a lovely guy of my age, married, whose wife is a theology student, and who himself has his feet very much placed firmly and squarely on the ground, which is a very useful trait in a snooker player.

One thing I've found out in Maynooth over the last week is, amongst other things, the time and place that a student Irish music group play a traditional session in one of the local pubs - I can't publicise that either, as it's strictly on a nod, nod, wink, wink, need to know basis. But Fionnuala, there is uillean pipe player amongst them. I was playing the 'if I could play any instrument instantly without any effort whatsoever, what would it be' game, and I decided either fiddle or Cello. So I suppose I haven't decided yet. Another find to register was that i found out where the college washing machines are situated - no, I didn't think they would have their own machines either, but evidently ... So no more carrying my rucksack to a costly laundrette and dumping it on their counter with a nod, and a wink, a tap on the nose and a friendly fingerpoint, and then a slow, silent, aristocratic retreat as one's hired help did their servile thing. Nope, back to socialism and soap suds for me. As for the trad. session, it was good craic last week, and Cliona visited last night so I took her there letting on I was a man about Maynooth town and knew these things. I guess by now the sheen will have worn off that veneer, eh Cliona?

My supervisor found an email I had sent her a couple of months ago quite by accident recently. She was meaning to be letting me know what she thought of another piece I had written more recently, and as it turned out she liked the first one especially. So the errant sheet has been salvaged and is now the backbone of my whole thesis - good old twist of fate that puts me on the right track. I suppose no one else will appreciate much of this without more details, details which would probably also be details too many for our present purposes. So, on faith, it was an important moment for my research.

To put a cap on this theme of finding what was previously unfound, or taking up again a previously put down baton, I started to play football again last Friday (soccer to you, Emily). I wasn't as unfit as I thought I'd be and got to see an African seminarian threaten to do something resembling killing a brother student from Palestine. I stood in the middle of the pitch and shouted at people without running too much, doing my best Roy Keane impersonation - you looking at me, sucka? Oh no, that was Mr. T wasn't it?! Anyway, spring just around the corner, but it's still bloody cold here in the Irish plains. By the way, Ms F, don't think I've forgotten about you. I haven't gone away, you know.