I'm Terry, I tarry

Hey! Remember me? I used to blog here, Terence is my name.

I've been away for a little while, I know, I know...it hasn't been easy for me either. I've been musing, reflecting, gathering my thoughts, working up a head of steam, girding my loins, herding my lions, steeling my irons, hatching plans and most notably, planning hatches.

It's been a not very nice month for old Terence. In this order, it was a week-long flu (see last missive underneath, don't be fooled by the jokes, I was very pissed off), followed by disbelieving half-eyed glances from the bosses when I got back, somewhat shook but alive. It had taken a lot out of me; I'll never forget the first morning back on the train into the city when, clearly not back at full pitch yet, I took a strong weakness in my legs and looked around in vain for a seat. Now I've always believed in the old pregnant woman/sacrifice seat practice, so mercy of mercies, I was able to find a middle aged lady heavily swollen with child, and tell her to get the feck up outta dat so I could sit down. She grumbled a bit but I stood over her and glowered menacingly and she eventually waddled off. You'll be relieved to read that I was alright then and made it to work, noticeably flushed, but none the worse for my little turn.

Then, heavens above, the good Lord saw fit to bestow upon me a surprise apartment viewing which, when I think about it, was probably something he was leaving me in his will seeing as he passed away there on Friday.

Lord be good to him.

This out-of-the-blue-moon occurrence (someone tell me, on the level, is there a recession on or something?) saw me flailing comically and frantically around my little patch of real estate as I beautified it, hands crammed with J-cloths and cleaning products that hadn't been used in so long they were actually filthy themselves. I got through it in the end anyway, even if I did melt the poor oven because the crusty bits wouldn't come off and I had to pour a vat of acid in there. I'm a bit over zealous round the house you see - when wasps settle on my windows, I've been known to swat them with a wok. Well, it is non-stick like. And it's what I settled on after being weaned off the shotgun.
All in all it was good clean fun to be honest, I was like Brenda or Audrey from the kitchen towel ads. Whichever one has more stubble and is crappest at cleaning. (The other one's just a smug ould wagon and wants a good kick in the hole).

They didn't buy it by the way. Not yet anyway.

Meanwhile, back at the coal face - I always refer to work in this way, because my boss makes me feel all dirty and I'd like to burn him until he glows red - I landed the plum draw of getting to work every single day of the Easter break until about 2am each morning. I could scarcely believe my luck! It's like wandering zombie-like through a half life, people are on holidays while I'm working, I'm getting to bed at 3am and up at midday, I literally don't know what day it is and every where I look, I see pints of Smithwicks making comely eyes at me like little shimmery red mirages. And divil a weekend off coming for ages either. BIG SIGH!

Life? Are you listening? I'm going to get you back for this, just you watch me.

That's about all that's been happening. I could mention certain very dramatic plans I've been fomenting during my enforced absence from work, social scene, life and anything approaching a decent existence, but I've some way to go before seeing them to fruition so I'll say nothing. Besides, I like to end in an atmosphere heavy with intrigue, and to leave people wondering.

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Oh alright then, I'm going back to the nude modelling. Hands up, who wants to see my willy?