St. Patty's What? Oh, Crap, Not Again...
Well, it happened again. St. Patrick's Day sneaked up on me and I missed out on joining the celebrations.
It's frustrating for two reasons. The first, and probably least important of the two, is the fact that I've got a little Irish in me; my Mum's Dad (who died before I was born) was a Maloney (I have to ask Trish about him sometime). The second is that I don't go to enough parties, and St. Patty's Day always seems like a great opportunity to go sink a few pints with a bunch of folk I've never met before.
This morning, when one of the managers comes in wishing everyone a happy St. Patrick's Day (slightly ironic given that she's a Scot) I performed the now-obligatory head-palm and insisted to myself that this year, I'm going to do something. At first I figured I'd get a schooner of green beer at lunch, but after eating in the company kitchen and wandering outside (my lunch hour is earlier than most others' due to ensuring phone coverage) I suddenly didn't feel in the mood to do anything in particular. So I put it off until after work, but P.J. O'Brien's, the local Irish theme bar, was already packed, and given that I was toting my shoulder-bag and lunch-sack I figured I'd wind up the sad-arse off in the corner drinking a pint on his own. No thank you.
I continued on to the car park, where I (finally) had the bright idea of calling a couple of people whom I was pretty sure would be in the area and seeing whether they wanted to come out for a pint. Unfortunately, neither of them answered their phones (not allocating blame or anything here; lack of planning on my part is my fault alone), so I hopped in the car and headed home instead.
Next year, though. Next year, it won't just be a pint of green beer; no, it'll be a beef and Guiness pie with an extra pint to wash it down with and some mates with whom bull can be shot!