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May 14, 2004
Summer? Where?
So its the middle of May right? And in the northern hemisphere (in which Ireland is located) is supposed to be in the approach to summer.
Um, no. Take today for example. 11 degrees, a monotone grey sky and a slight chilling breeze. Not what I would call summer.
And yet the population of the country, either through mass delusion or an attempt of mass-willing, acted like it was summer; basking in the grey light of a non-existent sun, soaking up the atmosphere of the concrete that is the IFSC, playing ball games in the middle of streets.
I am told that last year was a wonderful spring, with lots of sunshine and happiness. All evidence to the contrary.
It constantly amazes me how much the weather affects ones mood (particularly mine). I have always been a sun person (I think, like Garfield, I am truely solar powered). The prolonged absence of sunshine is starting to take its toll - I am becoming a pasty white (although that might be because of the lack of fresh food...nah) and I have noticed that I am getting progressively more glum in the mornings. Maybe thats just the lack of sleep, and I am hoping that is it, cause I don't like the other option: I am becoming a zombie.
Don't laugh, it could be true. I watched a really great zombie film the other day, Shaun of the Dead. (I was thoroughly amused by its tagline 'It's a romantic comedy. With zombies.' A really well done film, but at the same time, it got me thinking. I have noticed that I am shuffling around a lot more, as opposed to striding. The previously mentioned pasty skin. General lack of enthusiaism for daily routine.
It all points to one conclusion. Drinking Guinness turns you into a zombie. Damn those multinational drinks companies - they are not content with extracting all the cash from my wallet and bank account, but they drain me of a soul and form a love for eating human brain.
Bastards!
