IT’S a lovely word: eavesdrop. I imagine a swallow pretending to spruce up its nest as it skitters along a centuries-old roof-overhang, listening to the conspirators make plans their inside the window.

IT’S never worth it. Even though this time last year in this same column I recommended it, I was talking through my fundament.

THE eyes have it. Blear. The previous night could be described as having been ‘a heavy one’.

IF we are to be friends there are some things you should know.

I’VE been cleaning out some drawers. It’s a thankless dispiriting task. The effects are hard to gauge, it takes ages and only a small area is covered. It’s the local election canvass of the decluttering world.

THERE are times when public opinion is a bit like one of those termite clouds that appeared in old cartoons.

I MISS some things about big offices: The “paper jam in Zone D”, the colleague with the permanent sniffle, the awkward conversation with the boss when we both happen to be in the toilet at the same time.

AS soon as I’d said it, I knew I’d done a bad thing. My wife had a “You, of ALL people” look on her face.

I’m reading a self-help book: Crucial Conversations — Tools For Talking When The Stakes Are High. It’s the archetypal business management book.

HARCOURT Street in Dublin was relatively quiet. The night time hadn’t quite begun.