Avast ye scurvy bilge rats!

Aye, it be that day yet again - International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

 

So hoist the mizzen and scuttle some limey curs.  If ye have nae idea what to say to your landlubbin' mates, try here.

 

We be havin' a pirate party for the occasion, and to bid farewell to our resident cap'n from PEI. 

 

Yo ho ho and a bottle (or two) of rum!

We should be dancing, yeah

I'm going away for the weekend, hooray!  Knockengorroch for a celtic blues/roots/dance festival.  It involves camping but the sun is shining after yesterdays constant downpour so I am feeling positive about putting my tent up in the swamp.  Yeah.

I am really looking forward to dancing around in the mud in my new Croc gumboots, which after a saga of epic proportions (I have been waiting for the correct shoes/size/matching pair to arrive since July) have finally arrived, an hour before departure.  Yay!

Also, I have been a little negligent with my sending of greetings (and also been a little more than poor), so Happy Father's Day to my dad and Happy Birthday to my brother, cousin and mum.  And Happy Birthdays to all my friends with birthdays in September.  You know who you are, you probably got a text message.  Woohoo.

Finally, sorry for all the exclamatories following my sentences.  W00t.

High Street Hostel / Home Sweet Home

After a couple of months of insanity I decided that my long-suffering, extremely generous flatmates could stand to have their place back to themselves so they could finish creating a home.  It coincided well with a chat to the manager of my old hostel (who needed a receptionist) and also visitors to the flat who I was going to move out for for logistical reasons. 

Now I'm all moved back in to the hostel, in my old room (one of anyway), working hard at changing beds again, about to start on reception and it feels like I never left (also helped by the fact that I already spent a considerable amount of time here during the last two months).  So much so that people were surprised to hear that I was moving back in - "Where did you go?". 

Err, contrary to popular belief, I haven't lived here for the past two years. 

"Oh ..."

The Fat Lady is Singing

It really is going to be virtually impossible for me to completely catch up on the goings on of what has been the absolute best festival season of my four festival run. I've only just caught up with my personal notes (and that took me half a day), and am not even close to finishing processing it all in my head.

I've met so many people, seen so many different shows, experienced the epitome of randomness, witnessed nearly every sunrise and virtually not seen my very understanding flatmates for three weeks.

Anyone who has ever done an intense season of performance in a show or play may have an idea of the flat feeling when it's all over. All the work, preparation and thrill of an audience is gone. For me, obviously it wasn't a performance, but I did watch as many of them as I could. Free entry to shows, discounted drinking until 5am and friends to share it all with led to average bedtimes of 6.30am. For three weeks I had somewhere to be almost every day, and if I didn't there were always options. Waiting for pubs to open again at 6am wasn't unusual either.

Thursday was the first night I didn't need to be anywhere. It was a strange feeling. Although having had two hours of sleep each on the previous two nights, I ended up asleep by the late afternoon and up again around 4am. The last three nights I've been in bed before midnight and actually awake in the mornings. I cooked a proper meal yesterday. The normality (state endorsed normality that is, not my own) is freaking me out a little.

The closing fireworks are tonight, weather permitting, and hopefully by then I'll be coming to some sort of closure. The feeling that I might never experience anything like this again is a little sobering.

But I have been promised work if I'm back again next year...