Well, it's official...

I am now a useless, blundering, incompetent and unfit alcoholic. And it only took three weeks. But rather than 'do the Hollywood thing' and attend an expensive desert retreat to detox, or sit in a room full of others afflicted by an inability to walk into a pub for lunch and end up instead ordering three pints of that delicious black stuff, I am going to embrace my inadequacy and use it to my advantage. I am going to become a songwriter and live like Shane MacGowan. (For those of you unfamiliar with his work and, indeed, his lifestyle, I recommend a quick search on that wonderful new tool known as the 'internet'). Previewing it now for all you is the first piece I
have written, simply titled, 'The Rooster':

We had some chickens, no eggs would they lay
We had some chickens, no eggs would they lay
My wife said, "Honey, we're losin' money
Because our chickens, no eggs will they lay."

One day a rooster flew into the yard
And caught those chickens right off their guard.
They're laying eggs now, like they never used ta,
Ever since that rooster, flew into our yard.

We had a milkcow, no milk would she give.
We had a milkcow, no milk would she give.
My wife said, "Honey, we're losing money
Because our milkcow, no milk will she give."

Then one day that rooster crept into our yard,
And caught that milkcow right off her guard.
She's giving milk now, like she never used ta,
Ever since that rooster crept into our yard.

We had an elephant, no tusk would he grow.
We had an elephant, no tusk would he grow.
My wife said, "Honey, we're losing money
Because that elephant, no tusk would he grow."

Then one day that rooster crept into our yard,
And caught that elephant right off his guard.
He's laying ivory eggs now, like he never used ta,
Ever since that rooster crept into our yard.

We had a rooster, he was awfully gay
We had a rooster, he was funny that way
My wife said, "Honey, we're losing money
Because that rooster, was awfully gay."

Then one day a chicken crept into our yard
And caught that rooster right off his guard
He's laying chickens now, like he never used ta,
Ever since that chicken crept into our yard

Actually, I need to make a confession. I didn't write this song. Yet the fact I claimed that I did just goes to show how much excessive consumption of alcohol, combined with a lack of sleep, can ruin an already fragilemental state.

I will, though, confirm that I have spent two weeks seeing stuff, doing stuff, admiring stuff and consuming stuff. I could bore you all with details but I am a fairly firm believer in 'what happens on tour STAYS on tour'.That is, of course, unless I get drunk and then you can't shut me up.

I will say that three (clean and appropriate) highlights so far have been:

1) Being invited to join a group of musicians playing in a pub in Derry for a rendition of 'The Wild Rover' after having had a couple of pints in the infamous Bogside area. (The North of Ireland, by the way, is amazing. Irecommend it).

2) Climbing Ireland's highest mountain, Carrantuohil, in my Dunlop Volleys and a pair of jeans. It took eight hours of some of the toughest walking I've ever done, but the view was worth it. There's nothing quite like looking through a cloud of thick fog to make you appreciate the wonder ofnature.

3) Having a few pints with a few of the locals in a country pub in Anascaul, on the Dingle Peninsula, and having to separate a 78 year old farmer and a 65 year old farmer because of a feud that dates back 34 years when one lefta gate to a paddock open and three sheep managed to get out.

I'll now have to sort myself out and get a job. Which might actually be good - I need a holiday from all the holidaying. I'll keep everybody posted as regularly as I can manage (and most of you know what I'm like) and just hope everybody is staying healthy, wealthy and wise.

Daniel.