Ten Green Bottles…

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.



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