As I mentioned in my last entry, I came down here to Dungarvan last Friday to collect a painting I’d bought recently. I travelled here on my own as I only intended to stay a day or two. But, a week later, I’m still here and, oddly enough, I’m having the time of my life.

Previously, Dungarvan would have failed my ‘Wet Wednesday in November’ test. By that, I mean I would have despaired at the unavailability of the newspapers before 9am, or the lack of cultural activities, and the shortage of good food (The Tannery being a notable exception). The local ‘O’Briens Sandwich Bar’ doesn’t open until ‘shortly’ after the official 10am opening. The urban-dweller in me couldn’t understand how the locals managed without their morning take-out coffee!

But this time it’s different. It’s still the same town, with the same expensive prices and shoddy customer service (Lady Belle excepted), but there’s an energy about the place that’s infectious. The local shops are getting touched up in anticipation of the tourist season. The €10 ‘meat and two veg’ restaurants are abuzz with activity as their new furniture is delivered. Even one of the local bookshops is shut temporarily as, I dunno. they dust their shelves? As far as I know, school is still ongoing. But there can’t be too long to go to summer holidays and the teenagers are itching to be set free. They’re itching to get going in other ways as well. The local public parks are virtual no-go area’s in the early evenings as the teenagers have a roll around ‘in the hay’ before their school buses take them home to their (presumably) unsuspecting parents.

Spring is definitely in the air and I’ve a spring in my step as the long weekend approaches. Think I’ll grab another pint.

I guess I’m running away. (The photo below isn’t perfect but I’m still learning).

Needless to say I took these photos using my new tripod. And the running away will be done in my new trainers! Sorry but you’ll have to read yesterday’s post for the context.

Six years in Dublin!! This is the longest I’ve lived anywhere since I turned 18. Scary.

I’m don’t think the discussions went well this year because the lights were turned off at 6pm! I wonder if it was a power glitch or will they stay turned off all night?

Priceless! Only in holy Catholic Ireland could people mix money and religion and fight over Christmas!

The weather was pretty bad from Liverpool to Belfast airport and there was a lot of turbulence. The pilot couldn’t land the first time and had to fly around for a second attempt. He was determined to land the second time and, by god, he certainly did. In my amateur opinion, most pilots will get the plane about 10 metres off the ground and just throttle back. The plane will descend reasonably smoothly and everybody lives happily ever after. This pilot positioned the plane in roughly the right place and just dropped it on the tarmac. I think I hurt my back as well even though I knew it was coming. The fecking plane bounced violently and he had to break sharply because he must have glided too far down the runway. At least nobody clapped in appreciation.

It took a bit longer than usual to off the plane as well. It was raining so heavily that the air hostesses wouldn’t look out the door to help the airside guys get the stairs lined up against the side of the aircraft. Eventually, one of them lost (or was volunteered) and she did the needful.

I much prefer pilots to have simple monosyllabic names like Tim, Bill, Ann, or Fran etc. Subconsciously, you know you’re safe with someone like that. Timothy, Mario, Louise, or Francesa just doesn’t cut it.

Easyjet – I hate you!!

My two days in Chester was good fun. There was about 10 of us in a 60/40 male/female split. We’re all ambitious, type-A sort of people and we are not afraid to voice our opinions. We only meet once or twice a year so put the 10 of us in a room, turn off the air-conditioning, and discuss ‘money’ (our money) as the topic and the verbal sparks flew all day. It was good fun. Sparks of a different sort flew after dark, hehe.

It was a long day for most of us as we’d travelled from all parts of the UK and Ireland. We started to relax and unwind when we got to the restaurant. It was a tex-mex place called Dos Americanos or something. The food was spicy, the conversation spicier, and the booze explosive. We didn’t realise it for a little while but the person doing the ordering was getting double tequilla’s for each round. And that tells it’s own story. Poison! Then we went on a pub crawl. (Aside: can you get barred from a pub if you’re only visiting for the day??)

One woman, soon-to-be-married, had a little kiss with a man, who is just married. The next day (i.e., this morning), we arranged it so they sat together in the front of the mini-bus on the way back to the airport!! One woman had to be carried home. Another woman who used to be a holiday rep (bleach-blonde and all the rest) had us pretending to washing machines, and kettles, and dishwashers (with sounds and actions). The punchline was ‘but I’ve got a couple of mugs behind me‘. One of the men started groping (in our group) and got punched for his trouble. He got such (friendly-ish) abuse this morning that I nearly felt sorry for him. And since there was a Scot in our company, we ended up in an 80′s karoke bar.

Apart from octupus ollie, the men were well behaved!!

I spent the evening in conversation with a very nice woman. It’s not often you meet someone who likes the same music (808 State anyone?), who likes travelling, who prefers Germany to Italy (just like me). I am very happy. I wish I could be more expressive than that because ‘I am very happy’ doesn’t do the evening justice. I think British women are much more sociable than Irish women. They’re not lunatics for a start, I’ve deleted the rest of this paragraph.

I know I bang on about karma but

– what was the ‘special’ on the radio on the drive back to Dublin this evening? A two-hour special of ’80′s/Manchester music. Lots of the Happy Mondays, The Inspirals, James, and the list goes on. Bliss.
– And even better, when I got home, Tom Waits’ Orphans CD was waiting in my postbox for me!!
– And I’ve a couple of days off work as well.

That’s karma for ya, what goes around comes around. If I’m good to someone, that goodness comes back to me in spades.

For reasons I won’t go into, I had to visit two abattoirs outside Dublin today. Although I’m a vegetarian, I’m used to seeing the blood and guts etc of dead animals but today, the local workmen, with their blood- and shit-stained overalls, annoyed me. Their local, non-Dublin, accents made me frustrated because they couldn’t, loike, speak proper Dublin-ese. The traffic was truly horrendous and I kept getting lost as Ireland doesn’t do signposts. Or postcodes. So no sat-nav for little johnny.

Let’s pretend one of the factories was in Navan. I phoned them and said, ‘I’m in Navan but I’m lost. Can you give me directions?‘

‘Na bather, leave Navan and go towards XYZ. After about 4 or 5 miles (!!), turn right after the petrol station, go down the hill and then up the hill. Turn left at the next petrol station. Continue on for another 2 or 3 miles. Then you’ll see a wall on a wide stretch of the road. Turn right and then, shortly after that, turn left up a dirt road. We’re about 2 mile up that road’.

PAUSE.

‘You can’t miss us.’

I thought they were taking the piss but their directions were accurate! Navan, my arse!

The ‘meat’ industry has seen heavy consolidation in recent years and, although, ownership has changed hands into large companies, many of the abattoirs are still mom and pop operations. By this, I mean the ‘killing zone’ is often a warehouse beside the family home. For obvious reasons, they don’t put advertising signs outside their premises. And although we might know them as Corporation X (Navan), all the locals still know them as ‘Murphys’ or whatever. So when you’re visiting these places (and you’re lost), it’s often a judgement call whether to try a particular premises and potentially get shot or mauled by the guard dog. Or maybe, just maybe, get the right slaughter-house.

As I said already, the traffic was absolutely dreadful. I uttered every stereotypical curse and muttered under my breath at old people, young people, middle-aged people, lorry drivers, middle-aged lorry drivers, women drivers, farmers, sales reps, those going faster than me, those going slower than me. Anyway, you get the picture. In fact, every road user today was demonstrably a complete and certifiable moron. Except me, of course!

Even my staff were annoying me. As I got lost (again) on my way to one of the abattoirs, I rang the office for a phone number and directions etc. My assistant started searching on google etc and was taking ages. It must have been at least 30 seconds before I took a deep breath, and trying to remain calm (ha!), said, ‘look up the phone book and call me back‘. Then I hung up before he could say anything.

Another guy was bugging me and he’s actually on holidays right now.

It was just one of those days where nothing worked quite as I expected it to…

– The reception on the radio wasn’t strong enough and there was just enough hiss that I could just subliminally hear it.
– I didn’t have exact change for the toll booths on the motorway so I had to queue behind several (insert stereotypical morons).
– Once outside Dublin, I couldn’t find anywhere for a decent coffee.
– The temperature in the car wasn’t hot enough. Or cold enough. So I spent too much time fiddling with the air-con and opening/closing the window.
– It was too windy outside the car. So when I opened the car door, I didn’t open it far enough so the wind blew it back towards me and nearly took off my leg. Every bloody time I got out of the car.
– All the regular talk radio hosts are on holiday (except Orla Barry – shame) while all the music DJ’s were not, so it was hours and hours of second-rate radio.

Grrr!

And to think, yesterday…I saw people just enjoying themselves…

As the saying goes, ‘there’s nowt as queer as folk‘.

Anyway, just back from dinner in Banana Chilli in Drumcondra. It was a business dinner, I guess, with clients. All in all, it wasn’t too bad and I would recommend it to others. Just bring your credit card! It’s not cheap for where it is and the dessert menu was a laminated menu that offers those flash-frozen desserts which are seen far too often in restaurants these days.

Apart from the conversation, more anon, the most memorable thing about the evening was the waitress. I’m guessing she was Korean and I’ve never anyone so smiley-happy with their lot in life. She constantly had a smile on her face and she giggled a lot. The giggling combined with her accent made her impossible to understand but she was delightful. We slagged her a little bit about her delirium and she replied, with all seriousness, that she couldn’t possibly do anything ‘bad’ to customers. I’d definitely go back just to be served by her. She made everyone smile altough we did think it would be hard to live with yourself if you were that happy all the time. Imagine waking up on a deary wet November morning and giggling your way through the rain to the bus stop. Madness, for sure, lies that way.

One of my guests was visiting from the UK. Before her departure, her husband insisted she try the Oirish Guinness so she did, ever so reluctantly. She polished off her ‘alf with aplomb so I don’t think she was that reluctant after all. She was a hoot because, even though she was Welsh, she really had the ‘little Englander’ thing down to a tee. She marvelled at how Irish houses were that same as in the UK. I explained about similar cultures, similar climates and so on, but every time we turned a corner in the car, the fascination returned. Maybe she holidays in Butlins or something, but it was a weird experience for me.

My clients want me to buy their company but they’re too shy or too amateur to say so directly. So I get love-bombed every time we meet. They also try to head-hunt me every 6 months. This week, they’re going to set me up with a woman (I’m single, btw). Sadly, all they could think of was a single mother with a one-year old baby in Limerick. On reflection, I guess the advantage is getting the family unit without the nappies. Don’t choke on your cornflakes – I’m only joking!

Dinner was about €170 for the five of us. This included, ahem, some beer and wine at about €5 each. You could justify paying that in town but Drumcondra? There’s 3 or 4 restuarants, plus a gastro-pub, in a row beside it and I’m pretty sure they’re not as expensive. Having said that, Banana Chilli don’t do 2 sittings a night so we didn’t have to rush dinner.

I can see clearly now the rain is gone, well
I can see all obstacles in my way, yeah
Gone have the dark clouds that used to make me blind
It’s gonna be a bright, (bright) bright, (bright) sun shiny day
Oh I can see a bright, (bright) oh a little bright, now (bright) sun shiny day

That song made me think of a favourite movie of mine from way back. And that movie made me think of a French woman I know. Would she have seen that French film (one of my favs) from the mid-80′s that starred that french guy with bleached blonde hair? Think I was 14-years old at the time. I couldn’t remember the name of the movie right then but it was set in the Paris metro and, sitting in the car, I remembered the sooo cool actors and sooo cool music and sooo cool alternative livestyle. I couldn’t remember the film or the male actor’s name. But the female lead was Isabelle Adjani… and I wasn’t going to forget her! Rather embarassingly, I remembered he’d starred in a film called ‘Fortress’, though I’ve never seen it. Honest!

Once home, a quick search on google turned up…

The film was Subway while the actor was Christopher Lambert. One thing I hadn’t known at the time was that Luc Besson was the director. And he’s directed or produced lots of my favourite films over the years. Movies like The Big Blue (major fav), Nikita, Leon and Fifth Element are brilliant. I even liked The Transporter (I and 2)!

It’s funny how the mind works.
Twenty years ago, I was failing French at school, watching French movies after school and thinking lewd thoughts about French women. Twenty years later, I still can’t speak French but I am still watching French movies and thinking about French women!!

Besson even wrote an early screenplay for the American movie, Taxi, starring Queen Latifah and Jimmy Fallon. I’ve seen the trailer and it’s movie trash but I think it would be a good movie for a Wednesday night when football is the only thing on TV. Here’s the plot summary:

Belle Williams (Queen Latifah)is a speed demon. Flying through the streets of New York in her tricked-out taxi, she’s earned a rep as New York’s fastest cabbie. But driving a hack is only a pit stop for her real dream: Belle wants to be a race car champion. And she’s well on her way–until she’s derailed by overeager cop Andy Washburn (Jimmy Fallon), whose undercover skills are matched only by his total ineptitude behind the wheel. Washburn, whose lack of vehicular skills has landed him in the precinct doghouse, is hot on the heels of a gang of beautiful Brazilian bank robbers, led by Vanessa, their cold, calculating–and leggy–leader. To nab the evasive crooks, drivers license-less Washburn convinces Belle to team up with him to pursue Vanessa and crew. Belle has carte blanche to drive at any speed and break any law. The car-less cop and speed-demon cabbie–New York’s unlikeliest partners– begin a high-speed game of cat and mouse with the robbers. That is, if Belle and Washburn don’t end up killing each other first.

Random funny filler to end…
I was channel-hopping on the telly and hovered briefly at a re-run of Friends. I never really liked it but the writing was very sharp…

Phebs: I’m think of getting a new job. Could you see me working a benchdrill?
Joey: I dunno, what are you wearing?

Music is funny that way. The best song on the cd, IMHO, is Make Love. The lyrics, from sing365, go something like this:

Make love
Make Love
Ooooh
Make Love
[repeat throughout song]

Not exactly in the same league as Bob Dylan’s ‘The times, they are a changin” but brilliant none-the-less! Think I’ll try New Order next.