Seething after some clown took my parking spot. Die, scum, die.
Ah, the joys of middle age hatred.
Uneventful weekend, a large part of which was spent dining on an excellent boeuf bourguignon at the brother's, with persistent after effects from the unfeasably large number of onions there included.
Took a day off to go flying yesterday, but winds were howling, so did various maintenance tasks, getting the moral benefit of playing with the airplane without having to go through the terrifying experience of flying the thing.
(Two buckets of sick walking through Temple Bar. On starts sniffing and dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. "What's wrong?" asks the other. "It's just that I was brought up around here.")