Yesterday was a day of furious networking. 6 meetings in one day. That has to be a PB for Dublin at least.
Youngen and I flew up the motoroway with the lid down in glorious sunshine until we got to the border when the heavens opened. Youngen's hair (already quite full on) looked like he was a white Rasta who'd just put his hand in an electrical socket by the time we got to Dundalk.
Emptying the warehouse today before flying up to the Giant's Causeway for what must be my 20th visit by now. I never get borded of the place though. It looks different everytime.
I understand the man who fixed my garage door last week is after me for an unpaid bill. I must get him some cash (a cheque it seems wont do) before Shylock demands his pound of flesh.
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