Day 13 - Thursday, January 13th, 2011

Another day, another €0.81726, and I must confess that my heart was simply overjoyed to see my good friend Sealey (named after the Coventry City goalkeeper Les Sealey), and brother of popstar Seal, young one Neil and interior decorator Ceiling, lazing in a carefree manner atop the base of the IFSC pedestrian bridge, for when he does, I have decided in a superstitious fashion that the days ahead simply must be filled with absolute joy and fortune.

                                       No, that's not a large slug, it's Sealey, the outlandishly social seal!
Again, work passed splendidly by, with not an eye gouged nor a tongue disgorged - great success! After a sweaty day's travail, I made a beeline to Cineworld, to watch 127 Hours, the story of a free-spirited dude who went out into the canyon-filled desert, and got his arm lodged between a rock and a hard place. Alas, he was so possessed with free spirit that no-one knew where he was, and his self-imposed social exclusion ultimately meant that he had to cut his own arm off - howl!, wail!, moan! It's a true story, what's more, but regardless, I awarded it a 7.5 out of 10.

I emerged from the cinema at 7.45pm, and my finest Drinking Lieutenant Conquer O'Keeffe was upon hand to join me in embarcation upon a magical visitation of Inner City Dublin Alehouses. First to enjoy our patronage was the Dame Tavern where we had the utter fortune to be accosted by an hilarious chappie whose "friend" had just ditched him there and he requested that he have the pleasure of joining our company. Naturally we acquiesced, and delighted in hearing his Tale Of Life, encompassing the fact that he was a student psycho-therapist, yet ironically seemed to be someone in intensive need of psycho-therapeutic treatment! Our crucial 3rd pints consumed, Conquer and I simultaneously made our excuses, and headed to Peadar Kearney's tavern on Dame Street, which had been ear-marked as the venue for next week's Thursday Night Darts Club. Alas, the establishment turned out to be a kip of the utmost order, whose dartboard was a good foot below regulation height, and was positioned at the foot of the stairs, which would ultimately cause much mental fatigue upon the athlete at the oche. An executive decision was made not to award it the TNDC franchise , and we ambled along to The Foggy Dew - an endearing hostelry that seems to attract all-sorts, from the most dapper of business suit types, to the crustiest of nose-ringed gadabouts. A triumvirate of ales there consumed, 'twas onwards for a solitary night-cap in Busker's, where a Live Band Karaoke was in session, but alas, my name was not called before departure.

                                 Note the foggy dew appearing atop the pints in The Foggy Dew
Contentment :       13 / 25
Excitement :          3 / 10
Memorability :      4 / 15

Overall Score :       40%   (Rank 5th out of 13)