Well, twenty-three green bottles, thirty-five brown ones, twenty-eight green ones…
OK, I was bored. For some inexplicable reason, possibly my reluctance to go exploring the rest of the island, I found myself in charge of the bar last night. Not that this was a taxing experience (at least, not until I fathom out what, if any, tax laws apply here, ha-ha) as I only had two customers the whole night. And one of those was Senna, who totally failed to convince me that Aoibheann had said she could have a free drink. The wandering harpist, whose name I learned was Gwydion, came in for a pint. And that was pretty much it for the evening.
So, instead, I decided to take stock. Of the bar, that is. Taking stock of my life would, under the circumstances, be a somewhat complicated exercise. I have lived it, experienced it first hand, and even I don’t believe some of it, much less understand it. This journal will have to suffice until then.
