Record high temperatures of the year, and where was I? In work. I know. It sucked. Now, normally I don't mind my job. I actually rather like it, when there's something to be done. But after the trolley was emptied and the kids' section cleaned, twice, there was nothing left to do.
Add in the heat, and you lose not only fluids, but customers. I got home at four, not knowing whether or not I'd get a chance to get in the sun. I asked my friend Eithne is she was at home, in Offaly. No, she hadn't gone home. She was still in Dublin.
Naturally, we went for a walk in the park, and had a little chat. Well, more than little chat. We talked about all sorts of things; fights we might have to prevent, people who are annoying, people who are sound, things we have to try do with our time in future summers. Eithne's one of the people I know I'm going to be in touch with years down the line. I really hope she's not the only one. People like Liam and Aidan, who I've spent ages talking to of late, and all the brilliant friends I became close to at the start of the year, rather than just knowing who they were, a bit... I don't know what I'd do without them all. And there are so many of them! I'm lucky to have that job for all the birthdays! Third year will be expensive for all those - so many 21st birthdays to go to, presents to buy for them, drinks to buy for them...
But I still plan on escaping somewhere. America. I'd like to go to America. In the meantime, I have work to do back here. I need to get qualified to teach, and I need to get my novel sent off, and actually finished. The second draft will be longer than the first; I explained this yesterday, about how I was suddenly realising I had so much more to write on than I had for my first draft of Meet Sam. And on Monday, I have to submit my poems to a group of people down in Limerick. Hopefully they'll like a few of them enough to want to publish them. And hopefully they don't get too depressed by them all! Subject matter... lost love (result of death), suicide, crappy life, guilt and death. Not exactly the most inspiring bunch of poetry, though you might argue they inspire deep emotions of pain and sorrow. My friends joke, when I tell them about these poems, that I'm going to be the really depressing poet on the Leaving Cert somewhere down the line that they're going to be forced to teach about. I would love that!
Right, time to leave you and love you, my dear readers. There's tea to be read and a novel to be edited! Goodbye and God bless!