I saw a girl trip this morning. I giggled. I think I’ve earned the right as during my first two weeks living – and walking around, naively – the Dublin 8/Dublin 2 areas I tripped six times and twice hit the deck. In so doing I hurt the palm of my left hand, my hip, my knee and my pride as there were witnesses each time. The girl didn’t hit the ground. The trip was followed by two giant wobbly steps before she regained control. Walking around here is lethal. Especially for me due to a slight lack of movement in my left foot. It’s extremely slight, barely noticeable, but enough to clip the countless raised edges.
It made me feel good to see the girl stumble as I was thinking it’s not just me, but I was glad she didn’t land on her snot.
I was eating my porridge with cinnamon bark, banana, and a new addition – sliced grapes. I was hampered by the skin of the grapes in the same way an old man with no teeth might have to settle for sucking the chocolate off peanut M&M’s. I removed some of the skin as I ate and built up a little pile that looked like lime green snot.
The Chocolate & Orange Muffin that I wrote about in my previous blog lasted four days. I’m taking a bow. It was still soft on the fourth day. It’s all part of the Battle of the Blood Sugars. I made a dangerous discovery. A pint of beer contains 1 gram of sugar. To put this in perspective, a can of coke contains 36 grams, which is nine teaspoonfuls. The discovery is dangerous coz I now know I can have a few beers without raising my blood sugar level. It’s not easy to be good. I had a packet of Mikado in my hand the other night and put them back before I got to the checkout.
I’ve decided not to go to Málaga in January. I made a reservation more in hope than expectation. I’ve been reading about the different curfews and restrictions in place there and now is simply not a good time to go. I’ve been there four out of the last five Januarys and it’s disappointing, but it’ll be there when we return to some form of normality. Málaga is a wonderful city to ramble around, even the locals love to ramble around their beautiful city. I’ve been doing a lot of rambling around my city. When I was a younger man, I never cared much for the city. I seldom – almost never – socialised in town. Now, I’m older and for some reason it feels good being here. That might have a lot to do with my near-death experience and the fact that it feels good being here, there, everywhere.
Time to stop rambling –
‘There’s work to be done.
And they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun.
And they sent me away to the war.’
I must relearn that song.