Dublin Contemporary

Dublin Contemporary, a major international exhibition which is advertised all over town right now, runs until the end of the month. I keep on telling myself that I must have a look, but the days are eating away, I've been in the immediate neighbourhood several times recently, and still I haven't got there.

This afternoon was the latest close encounter, as I got off my cross-city bus right beside the venue on my way to collect the car. I'd got a call from the garage around 10:30 to say it was ready and that yes, one of the coils needed to be replaced. I told them it'd be three or so by the time I got there, and it was. With the wallet another hundred euro lighter, finally things are back to normal once again. (Incidentally, numerous comments from friends who've heard about the saga have led me to check what had actually been replaced on Friday when all that was wrong was a reluctance on the part of the engine to start. It wasn't a 'crankshaft', it was a 'crankshift sensor' that was at fault.)

Anyway, I made my way over for another visit to my friend Rita in Blanchardstown hospital after picking up the car. She'd been brought over to Beaumont yesterday and was to have a gall stone removed but came back to Blanchardstown without that being done - because her 'bloods' weren't right. Naturally she was disappointed, so I was all the more anxious to fit in a visit today. She was in good form, and we had a good natter. Her evening meal came around while I was there and Rita was surprised when my request for a cup of tea was met without the bat of an eyelid.

I hadn't slept well last night, so I went for a lie-down when I got back home. What was meant to be a lie-down turned into an actual sleep, and it was after 10pm when I woke again. Now I'll probably end up without a proper night's sleep because of that. Off now to continue listening to BBC Radio 3's production of Bernard Shaw's Saint Joan, the first forty-five minutes of which was really, really good when I listened to it earlier.