The watched pot

It's now several days since my stunt at the National Library, and George hasn't called. This is bad and makes me realise that my idea of leaving a note maybe wasn't the smartest. There are a number of possibilities;

1) He found the note but didn't realise who it was from;
2) He found the note and realises who it was from, but thinks that I am an idiot;
3) He still thinks that I was on a date with that lesbian chick that time he saw me coming out of The Dragon and is therefore confused and unsure as to whether or not to call;
4) He didn't find the note.

Why oh why did I not just ASK him out the normal way? Now I'll never know and I am reluctant to approach him in case option 2) the idiot, is the right one.

DAMN DAMN DAMN.

Plus I LOVE studying in the National Library. It is so cool to be in that beautiful building with the gorgeous smell of old books.

Anyway, following a resounding silence from Dublin Tourism on the issue of free tickets to the Electric Picnic I am resigned to not going. But I am totally psyched about the (mostly free!) festival on in Dun Laoighire this weekend. I am going to combine it with a bracing swim at the forty foot, as one of my loyal fans proposed. Apparently, that is where James Joyce used to swim, so I guess that that is where he came up with the immortal lines: The sea, the snot green sea, the scrotum shrivelling sea... Or something like that anyway. I am nervously looking forward to it