Mouthless Screaming

We had a 'celebration' for the launch of the redesigned website last Friday. Lots of drink, some good food, but given some work upsets during the week, nobody was really in a party mood. Then again, it might have been just me.

I won't go into the work troubles as they relate to a report that isn't public yet, but it's safe to say it didn't make me happy. The fears I have had for all those years have been realised. Yes, it may be internal stuff, but to paraphrase the title of a story by Harlan Ellison, though I have no mouth, I must scream. Let this be my quiet scream.

Back to the evening though. Besides the crowd from work, it was good to see Barry and Francisco. They worked in my group while I was on my travels and so had worked on the site, richly deserving an invite.

After the Porterhouse, Jules, Seb and I joined Francisco in heading into town for more revelry. We got refused from The Odeon, thought Tripod was too expensive (€15), and ended up (after an hour shepherding Jules down Grafton Street) in Doyle's. We challenged a redhead over her hair colour, tried to break up some longstanding relationships (I nearly got that Northern dancer), had a few smashed glasses (thanks Jules) and generally evaded eviction until eventually we went of our own volition. A late one and just what I needed.