#30. Rant!

Let's face it, Dublin is not a nice place. Like every city, it has its seedier sides, but not at 6 O'Clock in the evening, walking through a supposedly "nice" part of town. On my 40 minute walk home from work in Harold's Cross to the city centre, approximately 5 people ask me for money, 3 drunks clutching cans of cider almost fall on me or shout abuse and I walk past dozens of, well, scumbags. "Scumbag" is not a nice term, but I can't think of a better way to describe tracksuit wearing little runts who only put down their dinner of abra-ke-stab-ra to spit on the ground in front of you and leer at you before making some foul comment to their ugly pregnant malnourished fiancee.

To top it all off, my train home has gone AWOL. No announcements, apologies or anything. It just never showed up.

On a lighter note, if Helena ruled the world, I'd be minister for fruit and vegetables.

I'm actually in quite a good mood today. Reasons for which I won't go in to, but are at opposite ends of the same stick.