Mish, My final shot goeth like this: a cold coming I had of it this morning lugging my corpus to the desk. A local access road was closed in D15 and I was forced to trudge through a barren field before I could rejoin civilisation and proceed to Dublin’s heart. The field was rocky and frozen and populated by a large flock of Stymphalian birds who tracked my steps with dagger glares. At least I think they were Stymphalian birds though they may have been literary critics. The whole experience left me quite shaken by the time I entered the Ship Street gate of an Caisleán. Luckily, when I did, I came upon a most pulchritudinous sight that instantly lightened my mood. A female figure was sitting on the curbside eating fish from a tin with one hand and reading from the bible with the other. Her hair was long and golden, the face and overall form divine, and she seemed to me to be an angel (albeit of the fallen variety). Or, if not fallen, then certainly flying too close to the ground. Sh...