More hours off

Today's second session of Hours Off was quite different from yesterday. Rather than go to the coast, my friend Robin took me to lunch at Johnny Fox's pub, which describes itself as 'the highest pub in Ireland'. It's a great old spot, and I used patronise it quite regularly years and years ago. It was the perfect choice for today, not far and on the flat to walk from car to al fresco table for a preliminary soda water and lime before heading inside and then luckily being shown to an outdoor eating section which was still pleasantly under-populated and nicely cosy even if the temperature wasn't quite up to yesterday's figures. We had a grand old natter, and I thoroughly enjoyed both company and food (my seafood vol au vent really was excellent, and reasonably priced for the generous helping. I'd unhesitatingly recommend it to anyone wanting somewhere a little bit different to go. Apart from trumpeting its 'highest in Ireland' location, it also prides itself on the quality of its seafood menu, which has always struck me as unusual for a place well up in the hills above Dublin. After this afternoon's experience, I must say Johnny Fox's is fully entitled to boast of the quality of their food.

The logistics of organising a wheelchair and so on went much more smoothly than yesterday, and Robin and I met outside spot on the appointed time of noon. Robin had other things to do afterwards (he was very apologetic about that), so had me back to the hospital around 4.00 pm. A shorter outing than yesterday, so, but hugely enjoyable. To put t mildly, the décor at Johnny Fox's is on the kitsch side, but it's this very aspect which makes it so popular with locals and visitors alike. Old phone boxes, farm implements, barrels, old-fashioned petrol pumps, quaint timber furniture ? the mix is gloriously over the top.

Back at my ward I turned on my heel and ran away (metaphorically, at least) because the TV was on full blast for coverage of a GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) match involving 'the Dubs'. I may have slightly overdone my walking around the hospital to compensate, but I simply couldn't have survived the hour and a half of frenetic commentary and then the post-match analysis which was longer than the game itself. Fortunately it had quietened down to something like normal by 7.00 and I was able to turn to my MacBook and iTunes and vanish into my own little cocoon while the others watched the Brazil-USA international (which is till on as I write this).

So the weekend has come and gone, and still I have no word about a move from the Mater to a convalescence bed. Maybe tomorrow. A break and a change of scenery would be good.