Dear Diary,
So long to the longest month of the year and hello to the loveliest one. (14th … Valentines… Geddit). Whilst this diary entry will be published after all that ‘Hallmark profiting’ or ‘Aww <3’ inducing holiday (depending on your political inclination), let’s still give three cheers to the florists of the world who basically do all the work of Cupid, but without any of the perks Mr. Claus gets to enjoy.
Secondly;
‘Twas the night before UNOFFICIAL!!!!! rag week, when all through the county,
Not a nightclub was stirring, not even a Coyote;
The mixers were hung by the fireplace with care,
In hopes that a mad ole predrinks soon would be there;
The students were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Smacs danced in their heads;
And bouncers in their black getups, and I in my tanning pyjamas,
Had just settled down anticipating a wild week but no dramaz.
When out on the courtyard there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what the hell was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains in one swift dash.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be security testing their brand new equip’.
More rapid than eagles, the big burly figures they came,
As they whistled, and shouted, and warned us all to be tame;
Head honcho sprang to his sleigh (van), to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew to the office, almost like a missile.
But I heard my neighbours exclaim, as they drove out of sight,
Happy UNOFFICIAL!!!!! rag week to all, and to all a good night.
Thank you one, thank you all. Here’s hoping for a great week. The “UNOFFICIAL!!!!” that comes before or after anywhere the word rag is typed in all of county Galway always makes me chuckle. There seems to be the fear of God in us all that a lawsuit will hunt us down if we forget the unofficial bit. Maybe it will, I wouldn’t know. Better safe than sorry and all that jazz.
On to ‘more important matters’ (ish). The General Election of 2020 is being held as I write this very article. And whilst I shan’t be disclosing my political alliances or beliefs to you all (soz but those kinda things really don’t do you any favours), I will say that this election certainly has the potential to be pivotal and will begin to impact us (well, me at least, I don’t want to get in trouble for implying anything about you trusty SIN readers) in new ways. Being a Final Year means things like taxes and retirement ages, to name but two, are now about to become my reality. Adulting. Yay.
I suppose we’ll wrap things up there for now. In case anyone was wondering, yes I am still religiously watching Love Island and yes, I still absolutely adore Shaughna. That’ll be all. Hun.
GRMA,
Sadhbh x
