St. Stephen's Day

While the Boys of Barr na Sraide go hunting for the wren, I'll go hunting for the aspirin. Another cup of tea, a bite of toast, and I'll be right as rain again.

Margaret's over to visit from Dublin, and brought a bottle of something special to share with us all. And share we did, until there was none left to share. Mary Harney's ears must surely have been burning, but I believe she's half asbestos, that one, and didn't even feel the heat. All in all, a lovely Christmas, with too much food and just enough drink.

There's a reason that Ireland is shut down on the day after Christmas. I wasn't wrong to take a week of vacation to see me through the New Year. The older I get, the longer it takes to recover, and I'm needing the full seven days to get over the party. After New Year's Day, of course, we're all in the same boat, back to work all bleary-eyed and hung over.

Now there's the perfect frame of mind to be in when I start sending out my query letters again.