April has sailed by in a blur of van repairs, plummeting temperatures and hangovers. The van repairs (and hangovers) were far more involved than either of us cared for so it all took twice as long (almost finished) and the chilly Irish winds have kept me hovering over a hot stove, baking (mostly) delicious recipes with a glass of wine in hand. To counteract the change in diet I’ve been running, a lot, like Forest. The first week I ran 10km each day, inspired by Eddie Izzard and just to see if I could really. It wasn’t very difficult, however I do find running quite boring so I’ve since reduced this to 6km every second day, which seems like a respectable amount whilst still allowing me to eat a lot of cake. I f*cking love cake.
We’re about to head off in the van for a wee Irish coastal jaunt before getting the ferry over to England on 8 May. I haven’t seen my own family in over six months so I’m very excited. Unusually, a lot has changed since we’ve been away. Not least, my dear ol’ Ma has sold her home and business and bought a campervan (I guess that’s where I get my gypsy spirit?), and Rodney’s 90 year old granny who we did not expect to see again when we left for Asia, has returned from the brink. It turns out she doesn’t have dementia after all but was being heavily sedated by a cocktail of unnecessary drugs and depressed by an enforced liquid diet. She now has cake, chocolate and Murder She Wrote back in her life and is all the happier for it.
In other news I’ve just discovered that a comment I wrote on a comedian’s Facebook page last month garnered some unexpected attention. I don’t make a habit of engaging in the dreary world of Facebook comments and I’m not sure what came over me on this occasion but the responses are comedy gold.
So this celebrity had posted a warning about feeding chocolate eggs to dogs (it’s poisonous) so I posted this *hilarious*/predictably crude comment in response…
Now, you and I both know that I do not own a dog. However, I do know lots of dogs and many of them would confess to loving a tasty turd or two for tea, so I don’t feel a total fraud. But it is obvious from the responses that people really do believe what they read on the Internet… concerning and lovely in equal measure!
There were many, like Michelle, who fully understood my anguish…
Poor Michelle. Some showed their unbridled emoji-ladened appreciation for my comic genius…
You’re welcome ladies. Others skipped the comedy entirely and instead tried to help me solve my shitty problem. I started to take their advice on board and then I remembered that I do not own a dog…
(“Shit is food”. I repeat “Shit is food”. Oh Judith!)
Adam got a bit narked about something Sophie said and decided to educate her using concise sentences…
Lots of people from up north waded in to take the piss out of Adam…
(I like you Scott but you really need to get a new profile picture)
This wee man-child wasn’t impressed…
And Pia secretly wishes I was killed at birth…
Imagine how insulted I’d feel… if I owned a dog*.
And after all of that drama I was awarded my first Oscar…
Thanks Susan. After successfully getting the Internet to talk shite I shall now happily hang up my commenting hat.
Here’s a quick update on the past six weeks:
Rodney’s trying to start a new band…
I baked brownies, most days…
These bastards kicked me out of bed (not even my dawg)…
Rodney’s brother was a bit terrifying in his first charity boxing match…
Ireland is pretty…
Although my mouth is big, it turns out I’m unable to fit my entire hand inside it…
Just making sure his nephew’s new trampoline works okay…
Yeah I’ve mostly just been eating…
More dog-parading in his favourite jumper…
And a sneaky peak of the van refurb. It’s not finished by any stretch but starting to feel more homely…
Before
After
👆🏼 Not my dog
Until next time, cheers bitches!
*Rodney is taking a new parental approach to my persistent requests to get a dog and is saying we can get one but I’ll have to do all the walking, feeding, shit pick-upping, and dogsitter-paying. As I reeaaaally want to go to India next winter it’s temporarily made me see sense, but if anyone needs a short-term dog sitter in the meantime just say the word. I promise not to feed it chocolate or poo!
VanSpecies 