I’ve been offline for some time. Don’t worry, I’m back. The Internet may now resume. (The Internet stops when I’m offline, right?)

I was at a 21st on Saturday night. It was in Westmeath. For those of you who don’t know Irish geography, that’s some bit away from Dublin. Returning on the same night is not advised, unless someone remains sober to drive (yeah right!) or you have a pocket full of extra cash to get a cab. We’re students. We stayed the night.

Now, we didn’t exactly sleep on Saturday night. It was more like Sunday morning before people made their way to the tents. Me? I was in the kitchen at that point, where it was warm, and decided it was too much effort to go back outside. So I slept on an armchair. At this point, it was half seven in the morning.

I did not get a long sleep.

At nine, I was up and talking (barely) until breakfast at eleven. We left the house for the two o’clock bus, and when I arrived back home a couple of hours later, proceeded to shower (which was awesome) and then, when the dinner was on, watch Supernatural. I stayed watching television until eight, when I went upstairs. I think.

Evidently, I woke up at half three in the morning still fully dressed and lying on top of my duvet. I wasn’t comfortable. I got up, used the toilet, removed my tracksuit bottoms (classy bloke that I am) and got back into bed. I thought, I’ll probably just stay awake.

I woke up at eleven, dreary, and celebrated. “You can’t catch up on sleep.” Biology, I have conquered you. I managed to get two nights’ worth of sleep, having woken up in the middle of it all.

So, there you have it: I am awesome.

Right? Okay, maybe not. However, I can report more from that 21st. For a start, I got drunk. That’s always a plus, here in Ireland. I haven’t had occasion to drink all summer, so this was a chance for me at reacquaint myself with my good old friend Captain Morgan. We got along well, I must say, because not only did I not fall over, I didn’t get sick.

That’s a double-win. Even after the miscellany of alcohol finding its way to me (from Sex on the Beach to Vodka to Mickey Finns) I survived. I honestly expected to have some form of liver failure after drinking, properly, for the first time in that house.

A fun sidenote: it was the same house where I first tried alcohol. I won’t, for the sake of those involved, tell you what the drink was. I tell that story far too often as it is.

What can we conclude  from this post?

  1. Even after a weekend of sleeping and drinking, I can remember to write my weekly post.
  2. I can defy biology.
  3. The Irish can drink without falling all over the place.
  4. Westmeath is worth drinking in. Sometimes.
  5. It’s possible for an Irishman, even an Irish writer, to drink responsibly. Sometimes.

Next week, maybe I’ll have something to say that isn’t about drinking. But then, what more do you expect from we Irish?

PS I have a habit, usually forced, of telling people when I’m drunk. Just for good measure: I’m sober.

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