Gary’s little red mugs stole my heart a few months ago when I saw them first. I can honestly say that whenever I’ve seen anything else red, or puffy on his page they’ve kept coming back into my head over and over. I finally cracked towards the end of last week and asked the question which has scared me ever since I started putting myself through the temptation that is looking at Gary’s pottery: how much would that cost to send to Ireland?

It wasn’t as bad as I thought, and I didn’t go out at the weekend, so budgetary restraints aside, I took the plunge and ordered ‘em.

I cannot WAIT for them to turn up. I can’t believe I’m so excited about mugs, but you must understand, I collect mugs, I love big mugs (which these are, holding nearly a pint, woowhoooo!), and my mother wont give me my big pottery ones from home, so these just screamed at me to buy them. Also, they’re from my friend, I’ve never had a mug made by a friend, what a wonderful thought!

Thankyouthankyouthank you Gary, in advance!

Everybody – direct you’re good vibes to the little red mugs that they may reach us unharmed and ready for coffee and tea shaped welcomes and love

The door in work attacked me. I pulled it open in the usual manner and then a gale closed it on me when I was half way through, hurt my arm and particularly my shoulder, which got squished onto the outside handle of the right hand door (of the two that form the entrance to my workplace).

I already had achey shoulders/back from pushing a car yesterday, now I’ve got a bruise and a dead-coldness in my arm. Not nice. Brian’s response was that I should have held the door more firmly.

It’s a nice day out there all the same, the gale is a giddy proper one, tweaking the roof and yanking the flags off their poles, and pushing my Punto all over the road on the way back from lunch. It’s sunny though, really sunny, springy sunny. It speaks of sun to come, the sort that doesn’t have a gale attached.

Benny is improved today, quite a bit, much more bright eye’d and with a marked decrease in pain/lethargy. Must have been my veg soup last night. I say in jest. His soup is so much nicer than mine it’s worthy of a good pout.

I have the weekend off this weekend. This is a source of great joy to me. I have my eye on a night in Cavan again. It’s a little over an hour and a half drive, but it’s such a nice one, and the pints in the Abbey are just so crisp and clean, and go down so easy. We’ll see I suppose. The main thing is how nice it is to enter into the rest of the week knowing that Friday is a real Friday, with a proper break at the end of it. That’s a feeling to savour.

***

In case anyone was wondering, the trainee Housing officer job people never rang. I didn’t ring again since, as they were supposed to ring last week, and it seems a little too early in this week to risk annoying them with another call. I haven’t rung about the one in the government offices, I should really.

Well, I’ll go back to nursing my sore bits. Wish I had some Ibuprofen with me.

*’The wind, the wind, the wicked wind, it blew my skirt so high, the wind, the wind, the wicked wind blew dust into my eye’. My mother and me always sang it together pounding the road up and down to school when I was a small child. Our other windy day song was ‘Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low, over the hills in my kilt I’ll go, all the lassies say hello, Donald where’s yer trooousers’… I still rhyme them off in my head now when I see the wind like it is today. It makes me smile and softens my heart.