Buzzing

Good morning. It’s Sunday and there is sadness for Arsenal Women. I’m just not ready for sadness, but if you want to find out a bit more, Tim has reaction from Jonas Eidevall over on Arseblog News.

There is a small fly buzzing around my office and I do not care for it one bit. He (or she, I don’t know how to tell) keeps flying in front of my eyes and my eyes are not in the mood for stuff. Or things. It’s also just fast enough to avoid me slapping my hands together which, I suppose, is good. For the fly, obviously, but I don’t want fly guts on my palms, even if I might be rid of the buzzing.

Does it help that I have a Harry Styles song as an earworm today? No, it does not. I like watermelon as much as the next person, but the song is like the small fly and my brain cannot slap its metaphorical hands together to get rid of it. I also think that the idea of a brain with hands is basically disgusting. I have never touched a brain but I can tell you now, I would not like it at all. Especially my own one. For obvious reasons, in that I require it to be inside my own stupid head, but I bet they are awful in terms of texture. All lumpy but probably also slimy.

Now imagine one with some little hands and maybe some stumpy feet, waddling across the kitchen looking for you to comfort it because it doesn’t have eyes and it sore because it clattered itself off the side of the fridge. Sorry, but I would just boot it as far away from me as I can. Even that would be unpleasant. It’s basically why I can’t eat cauliflower. Too brainy for me. And the last time I ate some I was violently ill. It was part of a Thai curry of some kind, and on reflection I suppose it was more likely the prawns or the mussels were the culprit, but I choose to believe the earth brains were at fault.

It was lovely in Dublin last night, and while this might be a fairly obvious thing to say, it’s such a good city when the weather is like that. Sure, on the one hand the fact that its 26C at 10pm in Ireland is a consequence of cataclysmic climate change that will likely end our existence, but on the other, it was nice to be out when it’s so warm.

We walked through the city centre, and it was fantastic to see so many young people out enjoying themselves. I remember being young. It was good. If, for some crazy reason, you are young and reading this, make the most of your suppleness and ability to recover quickly from a night out. That is the best recommendation I can make. Do stuff. And things. And more stuff. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.

The fact that most of these young people have more disposable income to spend on socialising is great, but it’s mostly because they have to live at home now. Thanks to our terrible government, very few of them can afford to either buy a house or rent a place on their own. So, they stay with their parents who they should really only be seeing for Sunday lunch and stuff. Like when you’ve been out all weekend and then you have to go home for a roast dinner which is obviously very welcome but you don’t feel like eating too much because you’ve spent the previous 48 hours in Mitsubishi-land and food doesn’t seem like something you need to worry about until next week at some point.

Maybe.

Perhaps.

Anyway, the point is Dublin is great for a night out, despite what you might hear or read. The government remains terrible and the housing crisis is real. It’s mad that if they just banned Air BnB there would be loads more actual homes for people, but they don’t.

I think I need some toast. I love you all. Bye for now.

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