(no subject)

[uterefelix]

Well, your achievements for today are taking a shower and writing a few sad paragraphs about my past. Congratulations. Feeling accomplished or what?

No, you do not get to call it a narrative. That's a snippet, missus. Two hundred words of me being miserable in Wicklow. That's all that happens. I get rained on, cheated on, and I'm in Wicklow. 

Sure, what about the time I wrestled a piglet. No? Fine. Write about me getting wee baby kittens or going to Glastonbury or that time some ignoramus grabbed my hat right off my head because he thought it'd be funny and then learnt his lesson. I happen to like my life, so don't pick out one miserable little chapter- barely even a chapter- and try to say it's important. That's the magic of moving; I pick what bits of the past are relevant to me now, not anyone else.

Now eat something. Jesus, you think you can live off toast? Chop chop, nice and quick, there we go, you'll feel better for it.

Comments

[uterefelix]

Lazy isn't the word; glacial does a bit better. Still. Hope springs eternal. Tried to convince her to do more?

[Imogen's accent is...a bit of everything, honestly. Most people can pick it out as some variant of down-south Irish, though pinning it to an exact region is nearly impossible, and there are always notes that don't sound quite right.]

[sellscandy]

Glacial. Yeah, I like it definitely the word to describe the muns. Oh aye, I've tried to convince her more than a hundred times at this point. I mean she's Irish too so how hard could it be to come up with a bit of background for me?

[The accent is a bit different to anything he's heard before, yes but he still recognizes the familiar Irish twang he misses so much.]

[uterefelix]

And there would be your issue. Irish time-keeping.

[sellscandy]

[He laughs a little at that and nods] Aye, ye got that right.

The name's Sean, by the way.