A tetchy subject of late. Needless to say that with the date of death fast approaching, that of Ciara-v.-the Constitution ever looming over me, like a big looming Constitution-shaped loomer, stress is FE1 like, and yet motivation is on a sabbatical. (I’ve tried to find a better adjective, but nothing can really surpass ‘FE1 like’ in representing the pain in the depths of your soul, man… like these pointless exams evoke and poke.) I say pointless, because the profession may be noble, but entry to same is anything but. It really is stupidity examinable, with the curriculum not in anyway reflective of that which we will actually practice once in this noble profession.

Another bugger about them is that they tend to adore examining issues that, on the whole, are tabled for review anyways and a reform Bill is literally on Mary’s lap waiting to be signed as the Bic Ink on your exam paper is still wet? Thus, why examine Fee Tails in Land Law when new legislation abolishing same (in the shape of the Land and Conveyancing Bill) is about to be enacted? And why burn my eyes with questions on Defamation/Privacy rights when (to be fair, needs to be said) McDowell has that Privacy Bill written since the PDs were more than two people, and any reform they need/require is there? My suggestions for reform of Privacy Law in this country… errrr… elect McDowell?

Anyways. Back to the substantive. Why should I need to study something that will be null and void by the time I’m actually practicing? I’ll rephrase… why only examine soon-to-be-dodo legislation? The noble mind boggles.

But sure, what do ye need me for anyways? Reilly has been more than adequate in providing for all your niche Cube and Lego needs as I’ve been the one preparing to earn the crust (oh, burn). How he got that gig I’ll never know, but fair play to him - on reflection, I should have applied for the role of Internet Hack in this relationship, but there you go. I saw his potential in cubing, Wordpressing and Lego long before the rest of ye. I’m a veritable Cowell for geeks. Now I will love him and pimp him out to the internet in equal proportion so you can all enjoy him… :)

Above misery is just fuelling my inner Linton, and I can’t recall a time in the past 2 months where I didn’t have some ailment or other.

Kept going by the ever wonderful roomies who have been encouraging me to pack it all in and thrust Lidl management ads in my face (’you get a company car and all!’) and/or fudge off to the Dragon’s Den - only Deborah will appreciate all that this entrepreneurial mind has to offer. Tempted much. Not to mention the GAAfia, who secretly harbour ambitions for me in ‘de tachin’.

“The Kerry Wedding”, as it’s being cited, is on Friday, and Reilly and I will be flying down to Farranfore in the best tin can that Ryanair can offer us. Upon arrival we shall be greeted by the parentals on the runway, and I’ll dash off to Petermarks for ‘the upstyle’, as ‘the tan’ will already be slapped on (sprayed actually) by “the Hot Brazilian in Blow” (as Reilly affectionately calls her). While all this is happening, meanwhile, my father and other half will swapping tic-tacs on how best to avoid being left alone with Mad Aunty Mary all day. I will come back, looking like Shirley Temple, Dad will laugh and call me a “nerd!” (he still doesn’t know what the word means), and Reilly will affectionately say, “I’m sure it’ll settle down in an hour or so”. I will then cry and ponder the au natural look.

There is added pressure for this Union, because this cousin (the bride) actually made it to the heat final to be the Kerry Rose at some stage in the 1990’s. Celeb or what? She is also rather beautiful and perfectly lovely, and so it would be wrong of me not to do myt best to gladrag it up.

As we all know, the Kerry and Cork match is on Sunday, which can only mean one thing: bad Best Man jokes about the “BIG MATCH UP!” (the groom is from Cork). At this, we shall all laugh a little, but mostly cry a lot. Then there will be “by gor, you’re no O’Connor” while I stiffle out a Pat Shortt-esque “that’s riote…”, and Reilly will sit there silverware less, but celebrating the fact that he recently held a real cup.

Then people will get drunk, the tan will run and the hair fall. It’s really a most predictable and yet precious affair. Mad Aunt Mary will make a pass at the Best Man and we’ll all laugh a little, but mostly cry a lot.

I’ll report anon.

Meanwhile I’ve shopped online and the clothes fitted me! Amen! ASOS, the roomie tells me, is a good one to go with and I send good reports. Go forth and PayPal.

Right, best dash and… err… destroy my soul some more with a little locus standi principles.

Before I go, just a line from my tolerance:

Dear Potential,

F*ck-the-f*ck off.

You’ve reared your ugly head and now Ciara has to deal with you. SHE JUST WANT TO BE USELESS FOR A WHILE. So if you could just, you know, go away, that’d be swell.

Yours in apathy,

Ciara’s Tolerance

Smooch! x