Bad choice of title

Not this post, the previous one. It turns out "gastro" was unfortunately accurate as one of my sisters came down with full blown gastroenteritis after the whole sorry affair. The local (who are still remaining nameless!) have been very communicative, phoning every day, but have yet to come up with a final resolution/offer/apology. We should know more this evening.

In the meantime, I'm gearing up for a full, but fish-free, weekend. An old friend from college recently got engaged (it begins!) and herself and the affianced are having a party to celebrate. It's pretty telling of the last five years that I haven't even met the guy yet - I've only seen photos and the suspense is killing me.

Tomorrow afternoon, I'm having my first Irish haircut in years. This is making me quite nervous because I'd only just found a hairdresser I trusted in Amsterdam before I left, and now it's back to square one and I am very picky. And paranoid that I'll end up with a mullet.

And tomorrow evening, I will be yelling at the TV along with half the country as Ireland face Georgia in the rugby world cup. There are eight rugby pitches (eight!) in the whole of Georgia, so we have no excuse this time round. Here's hoping the team can forget they're Irish, with all the self-doubt and self-devaluation that comes with the territory, and manage to kick ass for a full 80 minutes...