Friday, 2 April 2010
judging by the reluctance with whick i approached this blog, you might almost think I had a reader, or better still was expecting to be paid. Since neither is true,its surprising that it took me till well past noon before i worked up enough steam to sit at the keyboard and attempt to infiltrate the blogger website.its all down to the number of bees currently buzzing in my bonnet.I could start with my reflections on how best to avoid weddings ( surely the most boring manifestation of allegedly polite society). I don't know which is worse, the terrible clothes or the fact that noone will give you credit for telling the truth. Mind you, its almost as bad now at funerals. Time was when you could have a good day out at a funeral.mind you that depended on the amount of booze on tap. I had a friend, now long gone, who only attended the obsequies of people known for their bibulousness. I was almost at a funeral this week. In the event I turned up late for all the ceremonies but in time for the feed. This was taking place in a room to which you had to walk down three steps, like you were making a modest entrance. Since I'm wobbly on my feet, this involves me hanging on for dear life to a handrail while balancing the descending hip on my sympathy stick.Reaching floor level without incident I noticed that the eyes of the Loughrea contingent were focused on my progress, eyes hungry for calamity. Disappointed once again they swivelled back to the soup. later that day I found that the post had arrived with an invitation to a celebration dinner organised by the alumni organisation of the university which once, in an act of undiluted altruism, awarded me a modest and undeserved degree.Luckily,in those innocent times, it was enough to get me into journalism. Nowadays, the best I could aspire to might be a chance at being a Dara O@Brian substitute on some godawaful smart aleck post ironic " comedy" show. But back to the serious business at hand. For the first time in many years I have to do some clothes shopping. Once again luck is at hand in the shape of my granddaughter who will be my official " shopper". Thus I feel confident that making an entrance apart, I can face the prospect of turning up at the 50th anniversary of the occasion on which I became a kosher graduand - as I think they's called.