Despite my aforementioned bile for the young absentee, I'm starting to worry that there might be something seriously wrong with him.
Perhaps I have been too quick to jump to conclusions.
Perhaps I have been too eager to judge.
Perhaps I have been too hasty to assume (and we know what that means!).
Like the Curragh sheep who wake me most mornings, I am prone to rumination.
So this is all crossing my mind on my fairly lengthy, early morning commute from Kildare to Dublin.
By the time I reach the UCD gates I am almost feeling guilty.
But as I swing into the university car park 10 minutes before my 9am French lecture, I see him.
He is swaggering along with a buddy; laughing, joking, puffing on his ciggy, and looking anything but life-endangered.
I feel a mixture of relief and anger.
At least he's alive, I reassure myself.
I'll bloody kill him, I add.
©Alacoque Doyle
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