<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3200994\x26blogName\x3dDreadful+Nonsense\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://shazzle.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d7615377689624956874', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe", messageHandlersFilter: gapi.iframes.CROSS_ORIGIN_IFRAMES_FILTER, messageHandlers: { 'blogger-ping': function() {} } }); } }); </script>

Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

We got up relatively early on Saturday morning. Shockingly early, considering how blind drunkenly drunk I had decided - and managed, which is quite a rare feat for me - to get the night before. Downing pints of beer is not a skill of mine, and yet I somehow managed. The alcohol seemed to take a while to catch up with me but when it did, by jiminy, it did. Little Sister Edel had to insist on me leaving the sofa and escorting me to the bedroom, where I apparently stood and stared in to space for a bit, probably unsure as to what my first name was, and then casually announced my intention to throw up.

So, the early rise on Saturday was a slightly unexpected twist, as was the complete lack of hangover, and we decided to build on the good start that we had by going for a good brisk stroll down to Blackrock with the small dog named Kesh that seems to hang about with Little Sister Edel quite a lot.

Kesh has a great love for chasing birds across the beach, so we headed to the dart station and over the tracks on to the beach, which was unfortunately covered in a lot of sea water. Kesh, however, didn't seem to either notice or mind this slight dampening of plans, and didn't seem at all put out that her intentions of running across the sand barking maniacally with a glazed expression of gleeful evil had been subverted. Instead, while we stood on the wall and watched, she carefully picked her way across the tops of rocks that had yet to be submerged, moving slowly along as they were very wet and slippery. When she reached a certain point, she'd raise her head, the birds would see her, and they would fly away. She would then pick her way carefully back across the rocks to the wall, and run along until she found another cluster of rocks that was accessible to her and that had a gathering of birds on top. The procedure would be slowly, carefully, almost autistically adhered to and repeated in every detail.

I could have watched this for hours.

This entry was posted on 05 December 2004 at 11:48 pm. 0 comments

0 Comments:

Post a Comment