I am clearly in a Village People state of mind, with the 2nd post in a row borrowing from their oeuvre.
After the amazing concert last night, work was a dreary mess today. I found it quite the struggle to muster up any enthusiasm for remotely moving medication from point A to point B. But as I am a highly motivated careerist, I struggled through.
As Fridays involve an early finish at 3pm, I made the decision at lunchtime that I was going to the wild, wild west for the weekend and would be resting and recuperating in Limerick, at the Mammy’s house. Well it’s been a month since I’ve been home, and seeing as one of my resolutions when I arrived back in Ireland was to spend more time with the family it seemed like a good idea.
So I boarded the Green Bus and headed on home. The trouble is that at 5.30pm on a Friday afternoon all the other westerners seem to have the same bright idea as me. Through some artful queue dodging (for which I am not sorry – it’s every cowboy for himself in the Friday afternoon bus queue gridlock), I finagled my way onto the last seat on the bus – the one directly behind the driver.
The driver – a friendly Polish gentleman usually does the Kilkenny -Waterford route so as we approached Limerick he asked me if I could guide him through the university stops and to the city.
I happily obliged.
The weekend involves precisely no plans. The brother is in Dublin this weekend so my cunning plan to persuade him to come see Villagers with me in Dolans (the 2nd time in a week for me – you’d swear I was an 8 year old Spice Girls fan) is sadly not going to come to fruition. Never mind – I bought a solitary ticket. There comes a point in live when you have to accept that sometimes if you want to do something, you’ve got to do it on your own.
And if anyone asks I am going to pretend that I drove a big green bus to Limerick this evening.