The run up to Christmas

Here follows a brief post on behalf of everyone here at unironedman. Which is approximately the same number of staff employed to run my graphics business: one.

It’s all about quality here, not the quantity.

Anyway, it’s been a while since the last post (and chorus). That was the aftermath of the Dublin Marathon, when we surveyed the wreckage of my face, courtesy of the official race photos.

We printed some up and hung them in the garden to scare away the crows, and, to borrow an old gag, they were so troubled, they brought back the grain they stole last year.

Enough of that, I hear you say, and rightly so. Let’s talk about running.

There hasn’t been an awful lot of it, to be honest. It’s as sparse as a Labour vote in middle England. At least the few runs I have had have been sans Garmin; there is a certain freedom to running without having to worry about pace or time, or even distance.

There have been a few gym sessions thrown in as well, over in the station. Nothing hectic; just trying to fit in a few workouts with the lads, and today, we had the annual memorial football match, and that meant yet more running around (not much kicking of the ball, or scoring, but that’s no surprise. The last time I kicked a ball was about 9 months ago.)

Next up is the Lock Up The Year canal bank run, which is essentially a half-marathon for myself and few of my mates. Always something to look forward to.

Apart from that, it seems to have been a tough few months. Too much sad news about, and more on the way. I was over in England to say a fond farewell to an old family friend. I appreciate this is all part of life and getting on in years. That doesn’t make it any less sad.

It was also quite the nostalgia trip for both my parents and I, as it was back to all the old haunting grounds.

So, in honour of the Harrison family, who’ve lost a great gran, mum and wife, here is an old pic from neither today nor yesterday.


It shows me and my brother Robert with Lucy and Laura, sitting on the harbour wall outside the Bulman pub in Summercove, Co. Cork. I don’t have a date, but it’s certainly well over forty years ago. Before we understood the benefits of sun cream. Bless!

I’ll be a more regular blogger in the new year, promise.

Merry Christmas, one and all.

7 thoughts on “The run up to Christmas

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