Liquid Lunch [Open]
Mar 17, 2014 16:34:22 GMT -5
Post by Kieron Sharpe on Mar 17, 2014 16:34:22 GMT -5
Kieron wasn't sure just how much of a hand his boss had played in arranging for him to be off work today. Sure he had worked the past six days in a row and was due a break, but he doubted it was much in the way of coincidence that his rest day had fallen today. His parents had of course all but begged him to go and visit them, but he had told them he was working. The last thing he wanted was to spend his day off being either nagged at or completely ignored in favour of his little sister. Sadly, Maebelle's time off had not correlated with his own so Kieron would be spending the day alone, although she had promised to come around to visit after her shift at Hammel had ended. Kieron was quietly amused when he realised, upon waking up, that he wanted today to hurry by so that the evening would arrive sooner.
After eventually dragging himself out of bed, getting dressed and tending to the fish, Kieron had headed into Pilot Ridge to spoil himself a little. A few of the stores were decked out in green with shamrocks and ridiculous Leprechaun hats everywhere, and the Irishman rolled his eyes at them slightly. Even though in truth he couldn't remember all that much about his time in Belfast, Kieron couldn't remember the Irish celebrating St Patrick's Day with quite as much enthusiasm as the American's could muster. It was the day when everyone apparently had Irish blood – mainly, Kieron suspected, as an excuse to get very, very drunk.
Eventually Kieron's footfalls found him in the bookstore, where he treated himself to a hardback copy of Drakenfeld by Mark Charan Newton and a new bookmark that he had to get purely because it had an eel on it. From there he went to the bakery, where some beautifully wrapped almond and apricot cookies were bought to surprise Maebelle with later, but then Kieron realised that he didn't really have anywhere he particularly needed or wanted to be.
Wanting to kill a little more time before he headed back home and no doubt began to fuss around tidying the place up and cooking ready for tonight, Kieron found himself heading into the more club-heavy district of the city. It was coming on to one in the afternoon and already some of the bars seemed to be jostling with people but Kieron selected one that seemed a little more tame and made his way inside. If nothing else, it would kill an hour. "Guinness, please.”
Well, he was Irish, it was St Patrick's Day and it was his birthday. It would have been wrong not to.
After eventually dragging himself out of bed, getting dressed and tending to the fish, Kieron had headed into Pilot Ridge to spoil himself a little. A few of the stores were decked out in green with shamrocks and ridiculous Leprechaun hats everywhere, and the Irishman rolled his eyes at them slightly. Even though in truth he couldn't remember all that much about his time in Belfast, Kieron couldn't remember the Irish celebrating St Patrick's Day with quite as much enthusiasm as the American's could muster. It was the day when everyone apparently had Irish blood – mainly, Kieron suspected, as an excuse to get very, very drunk.
Eventually Kieron's footfalls found him in the bookstore, where he treated himself to a hardback copy of Drakenfeld by Mark Charan Newton and a new bookmark that he had to get purely because it had an eel on it. From there he went to the bakery, where some beautifully wrapped almond and apricot cookies were bought to surprise Maebelle with later, but then Kieron realised that he didn't really have anywhere he particularly needed or wanted to be.
Wanting to kill a little more time before he headed back home and no doubt began to fuss around tidying the place up and cooking ready for tonight, Kieron found himself heading into the more club-heavy district of the city. It was coming on to one in the afternoon and already some of the bars seemed to be jostling with people but Kieron selected one that seemed a little more tame and made his way inside. If nothing else, it would kill an hour. "Guinness, please.”
Well, he was Irish, it was St Patrick's Day and it was his birthday. It would have been wrong not to.
