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This is What I Imagine All of Your Weekends Looked Like:

So how was your Bank Holiday weekend? Kick back, relax, re-connect with friends and family, did you? Spend quality time with your pets? Contribute to the betterment of your community? Well, that’s nice and all. Thanks to my beloved, disease-receptacle god-daughter, I just spent three days alone in a darkened room, groaning, hallucinating and vomiting into a bucket. Think Sal Paradise in Mexico City, except that at height of my fever, I have vague recollections of bundling some rolls of kitchen roll and flat 7Up into the the back of my car, driving fifty miles north to a field in Co. Louth, and attempting to write a chirpy account of a campervan music festival for this morning’s Irish Times.

To be honest, I have no idea what I wrote. But those portoloo memories, well, they stay with you a lifetime.

To her credit, the kid tried to make it up by putting on the (admittedly hideous) Mayo baby-gro we bought her last year. Well, that ain’t gonna swing it Lola. This is the second time you’ve done this. Once more and we give you to the tinkers. You have been warned.