Quiet please, I'm thinking.
For the love of Christ, man, spit it out.
July 3, 2013Posted by on
On the advice of a good friend, who was also my best man (should that be capitalized?) at my recent nuptials, I have finally succumbed to the modern day narcissism that is a blog. Everyone is at it, so I have decided to add my voice to the endless babble and banter of which the inter-squirt is composed. Sorry inter-squirt, but you know it’s true.
As the many that precede me adequately demonstrate one does not actually need to have anything useful or remotely interesting to say in order to produce a blog, so here you will find all manner of non-useful and uninteresting bits. Use them as you will. Being something of a would-be wordsmith I have always toyed with this inherited language (had history been written differently you would be reading this in Gaelic) as the Irish language was, long ago, practically stamped out. That being said, I do love the English language. With its twists and turns, inflections and borrowed words, it surely is the belle of the language ball.
But I digress. The reason, should anyone actually care, for my change of heart is simply that I now live further from my place of origin than I did previously. Istanbul, Turkey, to be exact. It’s been two weeks since I arrived here from the unpleasant experience that was Brussels, Belgium, for the last 5 years, so it seemed a good time to inflict my warblings upon the world. Oh, you lucky devils! With an enviable climate, more history than you can shake a stick at, and lashings (Did I really just use that word! Thanks, Enid Blyton.) of fine cuisine, I’m sure to have no end of inspiring experiences with which to sully your fine, refined, and hitherto unspoiled (yeah, right) noggins. So sit back, strap yourself in, and prepare to be amazed at the ridonculous volumes of verbosity and verbiage one Irishman, with spare time on his hands, can produce.
You have been warned, you lily-livered landlubbers,