its been a fun couple of days. The annual brownlow night celebrations took place on monday night. A bit of a social ritual with our mates, we usually gather at someones house and watch the weird, frequently embarrassing spectacle that is AFL's highest award. Car crash TV at it's finest. Tizzied up WAGs, drunken bozo footballers, gag inducing tributes and a frankly bizarre combination of the Oscars and a pie night. Its great fun to scarf down a few sausage rolls and enjoy a tipple while you sit back and enjoy a thoroughly Australian experience.
Lunch today was out at the parentals. The bomb has been dropped - they're putting the old ranch on the market and moving in to Ballafornia and they assembled us kiddies to give us the news. We all kind of knew or suspected but today confirms they are deadly serious. Younger bro Seán seems a little nonplussed by it, I guess he spent his entire childhood there with Diármaid where Theresa, Eilín and I all moved countries and houses several times before we even hit secondary school. Anyway the real estate agents have given them a much higher estimate than they thought so fingers crossed it all goes well. The place looks gorgeous, with lovely gardens and a lush paddock surrounding it. Fair play to them, I remeber when we moved there is was an arid wasteland with one tree on the whole fifteen acres and a patch of gravel where now there is a quite a lovely house. The lunch itself was fantastic - grilled thinly sliced marinated chicken, gourmet sausages and crusty bread and salad. Trifle for afters. It really brings out the Mammy's boy in you when you sit down to spread like that for lunch. Endless cups of tea and lemon, lime and bitters kept the dust down in keeping with the folks teetotalling ways.