All of the nice things we were lucky enough to get for our wedding.... It's strange to be packing them up for storage in my grandmother-in-law's basement. We're approaching departure, and I have been hunting for jobs and places to live in Cork. I have blanketed the temp agencies with my CV, and have come up with a few housing leads. One situation is a nice house five minutes' walk from Cork City Centre. The fellow I have corresponded with sounds very jolly, and the monthly rent is reasonable. Another possibility is sharing an apartment with a Frenchman and a––and I'm quoting––"very serious German guy." If that doesn't sound terrifying enough, they have a "strictly enforced" cleaning schedule. I'm pulling for the jolly house mate to work out.
Thanks to all that have become followers of my, um, online magazine. A gentleman very intimate with the ways of the press, who might be associated with Washington College, and who might have something to do with the Chestertown Spy, has advised me that "blog" is a word I should avoid. Everyone has a blog these days, but how many have online magazines? Did I call this a blog? My bad.
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