Stomach still in one of its twisted states, a stock standard result of the night before's many twists of fates.
Thought we'd be late to the early dinner, though as it happens we were somehow the first of all us latecomers. The entourage arrives in due processional, the usual suspects, one last supper.
Off to the show we go, caged creatures at The Zoo. Brilliance erupts on stage. The Brian Jonestown Massacre mass sprawls curtain to curtain. Matt Hollywood brings back the classics.
Off to Rics post-show-haste. All a bit hazy by then. A couple of BJMs wallow with the locals. Chatter, chatter, chatter. Unsure of arisings, but before we knew it the flock was on the move. Rics had just called last drinks. Everyone back to ours at Hynes Street. I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Needless to say, some chaos times. Neighbourly understanding approaches zero proportional to the rising sun. Another breach for the Hynes St kids, and threat of eviction. It won't stick I'm betting. Lay low for a while.
All in good fun.