After watching Masterchef last night (thank God it's over!), I put the kids to bed, picked up a coupola hundred High School Musical cards which were scattered over the four corners of the living room (six if you count the bay windows), poured myself a bottle Bishop's Finger (as opposed to a finger of Bishop's Bottle) and sat down to listen to the John Martyn interview on the radio.
To my great, well slight, shame I've been living in Ireland for nearly seven years now and I haven't troubled myself to learn the language. They have certain news programmes in Irish on RTE radio and, whilst I almost never turn them off, I can't understand anything that's being said. But I allow it to drift by incomprehensibly anyway.
A bit like John's drunken, Caledonian ramblings last night, in fact. If there were any Irish people listening to the interview (and surely there must have been) I think they would have known how I felt. I don't suspect they would have turned off either though.
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