Tuesday, December 26, 2006

When everything changed. And changed back.

Well, you can't have expected much bloggery from me given the month that's in it, can you? Mercy no. Too much happening. It was all happening.

We had all manner of nights out and confustications, including the Christmas Party in Galway (exactly the same as last year, substituting Raf for 5X), the return of 5X and ensuing madness, random nights in The Long Stone and The Palace Bar and the usual this and that.

I could get into the wheres and what have yous of the various nights, but just look back at last December's postings. It has been exactly the same.

Oh, but something quite different. The impending marriage of Emma Cuddihy and Owen Cowzer. Mark it down. The fourth engagement of the year and the one that has everyone in the Cuddihy household talking hotels and receptions and dresses and what not. And Cowzer as a brother-in-law? Mercy. That'll be something. At least I'll have someone to watch football with at Christmas.

(Anyone fancy meeting me in Synott's for the Liverpool game at three?)

The honours list:

Night out of the year:

Some dingers in '06, not least Brain Day and Paddy's Night in Germany and my birthday pints and Anne's 30th and Emma's birthday too, but the night out of the year has to go to the random evening back in March with the girls and Dr. Fell where we went to Thomas Reads and I ended up sleeping on the couch of the owner of Setanta in Princes Street. They may take the rent out of my wages.

Person of the year:

This has to go to 'Twenty Quid,' a legend in her own time.

Beer of the year:

It's Stella for the third year running.

Botched sentence of the year:

"So... eh... what did the... eh... d'ya... eh... fancy... eh... SHUT UP... no, go on... wha?" Me. To Dave.

Unmitigated bastard of the year:

5X. How DARE he move to Paris?!? And THRIVE, no less! Still, I did enjoy our reunion last week, when I summed up the six months for old Radge while he's been suckling wine on the Champs Elysses - "Since your defection my life has changed utterly. Or at least it did until last week, when everything went back to exactly the way it was when you left."

Pub of the year:

This one goes to the Stag's Head, seeing as it housed three splendid nights in Brain Day, our Anne's 30th and Melissa's birthday the following week. All successes. A mention at this point must go to the brothers Skehan, and the...

...few days away of the year:

Dingle. July. Sweet Jesus but it was a dinger. Gillian, hopefully reading this in China while sipping her Irish coffee, will attest that it was a drunken affair, given the reams of text messages that floated their way to the County Cork from Dick Macks and Murphys and O'Flahertys and McCarthys and all the pubs of the best town in Kerry. If not Ireland.

Newcomers of the year:

Joining the world of Radgery this year were.... Gillian, Val, Dockers, Richie's mate Dave, the American lad in the pub that night that looked a bit like Jack Black. Oh. And 'Twenty Quid.'

Welcome to ye...

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Keeping Elmo happy.

Have to pay testament to YouTube. Ridiculously good. I'm currently back in 1993/94, playing concert footage of Pearl Jam's 'Footsteps,' an unsung classic, a b-side that had me many a time sitting on the floor of my bedroom wondering why life was so shit for me and perfect for everybody else.

O to be 15 again. The glorious self-indulgence of it all!

So here I am, 28 of all things. Have to say Radge Lash '06 was capital. An exceptional night of whirring and wooing and what-the-fuck-is-going-on-ing and wondering what the hell happened to my jacket. Ing.

Twas O'Reilly's there by Tara St station, and a heartfelt thanks to all who came bearing gifts and/or just themselves. The hat that Julie got me must have done the round of the entire female populace of the pub, odd given the manliness of it. Also, the irony of having long ago thrown my hat at women was not lost on me.

Don't think it was, McKeigue!

And as for the Conaghy lad? He'll be done proud, I vow that.

Doubtless to say that was the evening's crowning moment, if you were there you'll know what it was. If not? Pay the full subscription. I've eaten only beans lately.

(Phone rings).

Sorry, that was my mad aunt, saying how I looked like some psychiatrist off the tellyvision or something.

Where was I? Oh yeah. Trying to extort you, my pretties! Imagine the drudge and drang I could avoid if Radgery was a paying service. No more scheduling, for a start. It's not where I dreamed to be.

Next week is the Setanta Christmas Party, for which my own birthday last week was merely the preamble. Sadly, no 5X this year, but I'll try and make up for his absence in other ways. It occurs to me that 5X, the aul hoor, is getting a lot of coverage on old Radgery these days. Probably because I love him gayly, but not in a queer way, you understand?

Good.

There are rumours of suits this time around. Be God and I'll do it! I'll play dress up and no mistake. I know it'll all end up in a drunken heap on the floor, but I'll bring the camera anyway and show the aul one.

She still thinks I'm an investment banker.