An Apology, Of Sorts...

Excuse the blurriness of the picture.
But it perfectly portrays the gestalt of the evening, it seems...
The warm, contented buzz of time spent with kindreds, a bubble...

To digress-
Mr and Mrs Raheny Eye welcomed us to their home, complete with tea and biccies, in-house entertainment courtesy of Luca and Mimmi, ( Pere Clause was tres good to them, by the way...), and off to the Gravediggers for an afternoon pint.

Chauffered back to the Killester Kasbah, for superb food, Truck Smashing with Finn(zy Bob), and the Old Mills Memorial Half-Furlong Steeplechase.

And wine.

Then off on the DART, into town, to find the pub of choice closed, but Mulligans safely nearby, and met the wonderful WonderfulWorld.

And thats about when the curtain came down.

Just to keep things reasonably straight- I am fucked in the head.

Usually in a fairly eccentric but harmless way.

I remember fuck all of Mulligans, except for realising that Raheny had left, it felt wrong, and I felt very wrong.

And I'm fucking plagued since.
I cant sleep, I try to remember, I cant, and questions are asked of me, I cant answer, oh fuck.

I just know something went wrong.

With a man who welcomed me into his home, and family.

I feel sick, with the knowing and the not knowing.

For once, I'm not joking.

R-E, I'm sorry, for anything, and everything.

You are one in a million.