Wednesday, 20 September 2006
in dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty...
Look, I can't stop long as I've got to go and catch a plane to Dublin (the last remnants of Hurricane Gregory permitting). The plan from there is to take in one practice day and all three match days of the Ryder Cup at the K Club.
I'll tell you all about that when I get back next week. I've also just spent a couple of days away from my comfortable desk in the office and have been out working in store, so I'll probably tell you all about that as well.
I bet you can't wait, eh?
You lucky, lucky people.
One thought before I go -- I watched a daddy-longlegs buzzing around the living room for a few hours the other night. It wasn't particularly annoying, so I just left it alone. The next morning it was dead. This got me thinking: I don't know how long they live, but let's say for the sake of argument that they're like mayfly and they only live for a single day. That means that this poor sod spent about 6 hours of his life -- a whole 25% -- banging fruitlessly against the walls of my living room. If you assume that human life-expectancy is about 80 years, then that's the equivalent of a 20 year stretch.
Knowing this, do I now have a moral obligation to try to set as many of these things free as I can? Surely nothing deserves that kind of a fate, does it? The same thing also applies to moths, although on reflection I reckon that flies and wasps should do the time.