But we had a peaceful weekend in Dublin. It's actually easier to get to than Sunderland, wheich is just down the road - a forty-minute flight followed by a coach straight to the hotel. I was amazed by how English the place is. We didn't do stag party stuff at all (well, we wouldn't, really, would we?) but enjoyed galleries, gardens and sightseeing instead.
I have a vaguely worrying mental disorder that I used to call "the morning horrors". It would typically manifest in the shower as the fog of sleep was replaced by a memory of an act of which I was not proud. It could have been from the previous night, or from years before, and could be anything from an inappropriate advance to a member of the opposite sex, to a stupid comment in a meeting. Over the years my reaction to these memories has been to sharply inhale, moan quietly, swear, or click my fingers repeatedly. And it's no longer confined to the morning. I also talk to myself quite a lot - typically replaying arguments from the past that didn't go the way I wanted. Helen sometimes catches me doing this and is a little concerned.