I'm fleeing the country. Off to the Bilbao and San Sebastian to drink cocktails for breakfast and eat pinxtos for tea, to collect freckles and hangovers like they're going out of fashion. To pander to the whims of the head of our social committee, to talk my brother through his broken heart, to laze in the Hurler's easy company. To ponce around in flipflops without fear of rain or recriminations. I'm hoping that by the time I get back I will no longer be Petty McLeper, Pariah of the Irish Blogosphere.
I'll send yiz a postcard.
I'll send yiz a postcard.
