The Patient Reader: I was wondering if you would ever come back to get around to that.
TDIA: Well it has been very busy over at the Sister ship of The Brothers’ Lot and then , well I got sidetracked watching Rory McIlroy winning the US golf Open and then I was on the radio on Bloomsday and…
The Patient Reader: I heard you. I fully understand and am delighted to see you back, I was up until all hours watching the golf myself.
TDIA: So here goes. The story so far:
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came across from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressing gown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:–_Introibo ad altare Dei_. Ha
The Patient Reader: Right. I’m with you.
TDIA: And this is 2011’s offering:
lted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely: Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit! Solemnly he came forward
The Patient Reader: Ah, that’s lovely. It’s really starting to pick up steam. I can’t wait for next year.
TDIA: But wait! This year it is actually on Twitter too.
The Patient Reader: You don’t say!
TDIA: I do! @KevinHolohan is pushing it out any minute now.
The Patient Reader: Ah that’s marvellous!. In a strangely self-referential kind of way.
TDIA: The times we live in.
The Patient Reader: Indeed. Oops here’s me boss! Back to my spreadsheet. [Alt+Tab. Exit.]
TDIA: Goodluck now.