Have a Heart

Last night was a 'quiet one' - I left for, and succeeded in getting, the last bus - but I still managed to get out of my head. I watched it rolling, laughing, on the ground. Taking offence at a can-swigging kid on the way into town, I swear I got off the first bus aiming to track him down and kick his smarmy face in. Thankfully I got that last bus instead.

 

Last night it was the birthday of Stephen's partner, Joanne. Today it's Will's. Couple that with Ian's free pass for the weekend - wife and child are down the country - and we 'have' to meet up this afternoon. I no more feel like it than a cow wants a steak, but free will is an illusion invented to make millionaires feel good about themselves. I am on the 19A right this moment heading out Finglas way. (My request for a city centre venue ignored yet again.)

 

As a by-the-way, foul tempered, tired and with an uncomfortable feeling in my leg (something I get on and off), I got on the bus to be faced with a poster that read something like 'Is leg pain something to worry about?' Underneath was a ripped out heart with a lit fuse bundle of dynamite inside. Thanks. Sincerely, thanks!