heads down till Paddy's day

2008, feck that for a game of cowboys. Wind, rain and poverty. Too many pounds and too few euros. Calls from our 21year old baby boy, complaining about the heat in Cairns, ungrateful little fecker! Visa bills and having to sell my body to get some heating oil. Don't mention bloody sales either if you know what's good for you. The online scrabble addiction hasn't got any better. I'm also the only person in Galway who hasn't caught the dreaded flu, and the paranoia has got to the stage that I'm running away from anyone who looks like they might speak to me. Number two son is deeply depressed that college has restarted and he's not sure that he'll be able to remove his arse from the couch where he's been stewing in his own juices since late December. The dog still thinks he's a cat and the cat still thinks that we're his lazy, good-for nothing servants. Happy new year!