I don’t know what time it is where you are but….
It’s half one in the morning here in Cork. I have insisted that Fred shower. He’s doing that now. After several rounds of tequila he jumped into the river Lee and swam its breadth and back. (against all advice) The Lee is dirty. I feel sorry for his underwear as it is still floating in there-making its way to the Atlantic now.
…It all reminds me of Helene’s 24th birthday (July 24th for anyone who wants to send a card). Awesome party- vodka chess and naked gentlemen jumping out of cardboard cakes. this was B.P. of course (before Pierce) though some of his acquaintance were present. Fergus, Carl and I sampled the joy of dawn showering in Helene’s garden shower (the parents were hippies… and wouldn’t we be happier if we were too?) Glorious. Anyway, I remember the text I got from Fergus the following day “Waking up cross-eyed drunk but squeaky squeaky clean… weird.” And it was.
I hope Fred appreciates all this in the morning. Night night. x
