Steak and Guinness - healthy eating in Dublin

Here I am back again to my public baying for more of my humourous meanderings on life, with that checky-chappy knowing nonchalance that is mine at certain specific moments punctuating an otherwise pretty hectic stress-filled existence. Aah, the joys of fiction. No, well the reason I haven't been blogging so much is that my life has been pretty full of the living-stuff recently with both Barbara, and then Goren!, coming over to visit in quick succession - just like buses. But now the old s.l. is cooling down again, so here goes with my surragette form of communication, my old friend Dear Kitty, the blog. This picture is evidence of the fact that I do sometimes do the young nubile man about town thing (I hope nubile isn't entirely feminine). Here I am eating a guinness pie, while drinking guinness, in what I like to think of as a mood of careless abandon. Then Barbara and I went somewhere and had a guinness. So too when Goren arrived. Guinness seems to be the glue that God uses to keep our friendships stick-stuck, and I say cheers to that.