Only 19 more to go!

Hey, remember this? In fact I was wrong about how many there were to go. Because I am good at my job, and because the place I work is populated with nice, reasonable people, I have been told that I can go home for good on November 20th.

So, taking into account Bank Holidays and actual holidays, there are only 19 more 6am starts to go. This is good news, because it's starting to get dark and cold, and I can see Orion in the mornings now.

Fat Comic and the Milky Bar Kid

On Friday afternoon our shop was robbed and loads of cash stolen from the till. Luckily, no-one was hurt or even threatened, but we'd had a good day in the shop and there was a lot more money than there usually is.

Ed to the rescue. He organised a lunchtime fundraiser in Cleere's for us, starring himself, Dara, Colin and Max. It was a brilliant gig. All four comics reckoned it was the best one they'd had in the festival and Colin got ten minutes of new material out of it. And we raised enough to replace the stolen money twice over.

Hurrah for the sad clowns.
Original comments
You must tell us when Dara is next on in Dublin, we keep meaning to go see him.

Posted by Ray on Jun. 07 2005, at 11:24 PM
I just keep forgetting, because I don't go myself most of the time.
Posted by perfectlycromulent on Jun. 08 2005, at 7:37 AM

At the end of another weary week

I would have to be really desperate for money to go back to working full time. Today, for instance, I got to watch Linus and Killick (who we suspect of being gay for Linus) run into the glass back door and bonk their little heads.

Then I could see my neighbour getting undressed in his bedroom. Okay, so I could only see the top half, and it wasn't like I was evaluating him or anything, it was more just the amazement of sitting at my desk on a Friday morning, able to see people in their bedrooms.

If I could only figure out something profitable to do with little danone yoghurt pots, I'd be quids in.

Miser's neck

Everything has ground to a halt today, I've got some sort of muscular injury to my neck and shoulder area. I blame the several hours I spent on Friday night and Saturday morning counting several hundred euros in teeny tiny coins, not to mention having to heft the lot around. Still, there is something mesmerisingly soothing about counting coins. A lot of coins.