Tuesday, July 04, 2006
"Paddy Dowd is dead..."
That's it. That's absolutely it. Staying off the gargle for a good long spell. I'm not right, my entire constitution feels like the inside of a pint of stout. Black. Slightly acidic. Alchoholic as all hell.
Joining the lads at Limerick Junction, I knew it was going to be messy from the start. Ollie had that crazed look, the appearance of a man who knew what was in store. That ever-so-cheeky slight raising of the eyebrow that said, "we are going to be in a heap."
And so it proved. Friday and we started in Murphy's, as all good sessions in that town must. I think it was the Marina Inn then for the game, wedged in between fans of Germany and the Argies, and at that stage I must have been already fairly drunk because the rest of the night comes to me only in patches. John Benny Moriarty's for a feed of mashed potatoes and some bog standard cod dish, into O'Flaherty's where Fergus was doing serious justice to the 'Cliffs Of Dooneen', stout, (scenes missing), bed.
Saturday we took a boat journey to see Fungi. Frankly, after the first twenty minutes I was bored to the bone, I just wanted to be back on dry land and wetting my lips.
So we did.
There was Dick Mack's, Murphy's again, up to McCarthy's, down to Ashe's, back to the B+B for some kip, back out again to Adams's, breaking a shot glass off the pub sink, getting thrown out with Ollie singin', (scene missing), Mel the belle and her patented dolphin noise, promising to go to the Hill Grove 'dishhco', (scene missing), bed.
On Sunday we'd planned to go our separate ways, but foolishly we decided to stop into O'Flaherty's again and the whole day disappeared in a haze of hat buying, lots more supping, some aul fella called Ned, the demise of Paddy Dowd, meeting some friend of Noel Skehan's while the rest of them faded out, back to Adams's (or was it Ashe's)... Either way, fucking destroyed.
Now I've probably lost most of you at this point, but this really is aimed more towards my own remembration of events than anything else. I'd say 43% of it is lost to me.
Finally, it got Monday and we thwarted Ollie's attempts to stay down. A six-hour journey back to Dublin culminated in a couple of topping off pints in Ryan's of Parkgate Street (great food). We staved off another session, though. As I put down my pint glass for the last time I even gave it a little wave goodbye.
I won't be seeing it for a while.