Monday, June 30, 2008

Good fit. Bad fit.

I'm blue, pissed off, broken down and barely myself at all. It was another one of those weekends featuring liquor, ladies, lads being bawdy, drumbles and drinking stupidly and longingly.

We made for O'Neills on Friday evening, myself and Johnny and Kev, and all sorts of others came a-panting with tongues lolling pintwards. La la la langered, but only after myself and Titface visited the Pearse Tavern* and the Ferryman and rose-ay wine in his place until the small hours, with Aisling sleeping alone and silently in the room next door.

God help them and the sight of me greeting them at their bedroom door the next morning, lusty for painkillers for fear of my death. Four bottles of Heineken and a Panadol Extra later I was flying, and at 3 in the day I left their abode for part two, which was to prove interesting.

Somewhat sobered up by now, I made for MacTurcaills with Emma and Owen. We met Etaoin there and progressed to Bowes. Great corner seats and lots and lots of hours later I fell home. It was with the awkward lament of a man who'd seen something good come and go in the slow blink of an eye.

It was with regret I failed to meet up with Rosie and the unknown bloggers yesterday, but I was a disgusting shadow of a man and Hogans was a better place for not having known me. Instead I watched the Spain game with a solitary can and a hurting gut in Emma and Owen's, silence in me and my mind akimbo.

My mood lifted briefly with lunch today. Met Denise on her break from work and she, as ever, proved the perfect salve to my battered ego. I won't see her now before my travels and her move down the country - a source of sadness to me - but I don't worry about our prospects. The friendship we got does not get undid.

*Shocker of a pub. Really. Maniacs aplenty. Haven for drug kingpins, prostitutes and butchers.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Mes nerfs

Two weeks until I hit the road, heading for London as a gateway to the rest of Europe. I'm daunted. It's happened. Nerves, anxiety, a quiet little dread at what is in store.

I've been awake the last two nights shitting some imaginary pickpocket, leaving my stuff behind in a Slovenian hotel room, losing my passport or getting sick with a language barrier into the bargain. Eek.

What if I run out of money? What if? What if? What if?

I have never travelled alone outside of Ireland. The prospect is both intoxicating and terrifying, wondering how I'll pass my hours. I'm not a man for great preparation, so I still haven't got those allegedly vital Time Out city guides, I've still to increase the limit on my laser card (still E130 despite many, MANY importunes to the bank to upgrade).

I remain in need of a backpack, though Austin is taking care of me on that, of somewhere to hide my tickets and passport, of accommodation after the first four days.

I will miss home, and will be nervous of 'the bad things' happening in my absence. It's only eight weeks or so, but still longer than I've been away from this town.



Paris and Florence and Verona and Ljubljana and Berlin and Rome and Pisa and Budapest and Krakow and the Czech Republic. Better than a kick in the balls, no?

Monday, June 23, 2008

Yay Spain

Yay Spain.

I rarely seem to get my way when watching penalty shoot-outs, but last night proved otherwise with Liverpool 2 getting through to the semi-finals of Euro 2008. Nice one.

I watched the first half in the company of Dave and pals, but decided then to hightail it back to Charleville Road, with getting locked last on the agenda. Cheered by my decision today, got me some European train tickets to purchase, with a definitive route still to be plotted.

What I can confirm is that I depart for London on July 11th, and then onwards to France, Spain, Italy and beyond. Oh yippity it's going to be an eye opener.

While all youse fuckers will be interfacing, crossing 'i's and dotting 't's I'll be sipping beers and wines unknown in Europe's vast expanse. I'm nervous about it, yes, but that's overruled by the excitement at the whole thing. I'm jittery with it, wishing it nearer and nearer. I just hope the funds hold out.

In other news, I went to see Gone Baby Gone with Lynn yesterday. A tremendous film, made better, I felt, by an ending that leaves the audience uneasy, morally unsure and riveted. Ben Affleck done good with his directorial debut. Done very good indeed.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008


This probably makes no difference to anyone but me, but I'm now also to be found at

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Radge, horse shit fetishist.

Took a dinger of a drive today. Well, born to be driven as I am, Anne took me on a dinger of a drive today.

We went to Wicklow, to Ballybeg House, where she is next year to be wed. I was blown away, and I'm a hard man to impress ("wow, a BLUE car!!!"). It really is a place to behold though, unspoiled and majestic and with the smell of burnt wood I've only known from Sean and Kathy's place in Bantry.

Words can't do the place a justice, but the miles and miles of valley and horse shite speak for themselves.

Bring on next June.

What else is to be said? Not a whole damn lot. Back in Dublin anyway, albeit briefly, as I have to hightail it down the country again tomorrow.

(The television cries "my vagina's depressed" and Radge realises Adam And Paul has become Sex And The City. Abort! ABORT!)

Ah here, I'm unfocused tonight. This is shit. I'll get some cohesive thoughts together and come back anon.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Seen missing.

I got ridiculous last night here in Dingle. Myself and Dave started early enough in John Benny Moriarty, what with the stout and all, and treated ourselves to toasted sandwiches even though there was far lovelier stuff on the menu.

Scene missing.

Emma Nar joined us in Hannie Agnes', or Hannie Sheas as my granny would have known it seven thousand years ago, and I moved from Guinness onto beer.

We went to Dick Macks and sat outside. Brian - a lank-haired 5x-alike from Cork - joined us with the Kiwi singer I just met ten minutes ago looking worse for wear. They took intermittent breaks to the jacks together to get more than slightly baked, and trains of thoughts were lost by 40-year-old Brian as he made up stories to us about stoned priests in London. Fun.

Scene missing.

We watched The Netherlands destroy Italy while eating scampi and drinking lovely lager in Geaney's. After that it was An Droichead Beag. The pub was a rare thing in that I had never seen its insides before (I thought I'd been to every Dingle innard. Not so.)

We were getting rightly wankered, and I now boast a fat lip from falling arse-over-tit on my way to the gents. More fun.

At that stage we decided on the sea, and bought cans of cider and stout and looked out at the boats in the midnight hour. It was very beautiful. I love love love getting locked with Dave and Emma, feels like home. Don't know what time we got back to 'Tigín a dó,' but it was late and I think there may be a stray can of Bulmers adding time to itself above.

I'm away to have a look.

Saturday, June 07, 2008

Ugh again.

My gut aches, my nose runs, my throat scratches and my head rattles. I am not a well man. Still, my leaving pints in Bowes went well. Made Rosie and Gimme's acquaintance - pleasure was all mine - while former Setanta-ites Kev and Jim arrived down to see me off. Fair play to the boys.

Off to Dingle tomorrow and I'm hoping I recover. More Lemsip here.

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

Getting the rhyme wrong.

Bold child that I am, I'm blogging from Setanta Towers on departure day minus two. Thinking of how I'll spend my days before I go and see the great European beyond.

1. Euro 2008 - Matches daily at 5pm and 7.45pm. Happy days. Having said that, I'll probably only watch games that involve Fernando Torres and that Portuguese gimp Ronaldo. Fine player but an awful cunt altogether.

2. Drinking - Remorseful as I am after last night's events in The Globe, I know I won't be able resist those summer ales. It's over for me and Guinness though.

3. Blogging - Please love me.

4. Betting - I have never placed a bet in my life, but I need a new addiction to complement my descent into alcoholism. I'll seek JW's counsel on this, he'll steer me towards value and/or bankruptcy.

5. Dogging - Must start those driving lessons.

6. DVD box sets - I'm on the hunt for the fourth series of The Wire and the second and third serieses of The US Office.

7. Sexual intercourse - Nothing like a bit of slap and tickle to kill two minutes and 28 seconds*.

8. List compiling - Nothing like a bit of list compiling to kill the day before Leaving Work Eve.

9. Hate campaigning against Mary Lou McDonald - I wouldn't touch her with 5x's.

10. Bollock scratching - Never underestimate how long I can spend 'adjusting'.

*Divide by three. Multiply by one.

Monday, June 02, 2008

Where in the world?

Fuckin' flies. I'd close my window but it's too warm.

Howayis? I'm enjoying the second of two consecutive days off in Dublin for the first time in months and months, spending it indoors despite the splendour of the outside, but that will be rectified this very evening when I greet Denise for lager beers.

I'd like to take this moment to apologise to Anne and Emma for my months of carping about them not calling in to see me at Charleville Road. They rectified the situation last evening, but lawyers prohibit me from getting into the rest of the evening's events. Suffice to say I promise the two girls I'll be a more hospitable host next time.

Just four more days until I fly the Setanta coup, with my return currently scheduled for late September. The plan is to doodle around here for the month of June before heading off on my travels for two months. Europe? Bring it on. I suspect visits will be paid to 5x in Paris, Stef in Germany and Michelle in Geneva. Who knows, I may even make it to Malmo.

The finer details, nay, ALL the details have still to be worked out, but I'm looking forward to it immensely.

Upon finding out my plans, 5x gushed: "Do you KNOW how much sex you're going to have? DO YOU???"

Going by my current leg-over-value ratio, yes I do - none of - but we'll see if the lusty fields of Italy, Slovenia et al might get the juices flowing.

Me? I'm just looking forward to the food. I undertake to sample all the local delights, and if anyone has suggestions as to where I should place my hat, it will be gratefully received.

I had a depressing dream last night, or this morning as it was. I didn't rise until midday. I was at my own book launch, each of my peers paying homage to my first tome. "I just wanted to get it written before I was 30," I said to nobody in particular. Then I woke up, realising I have, oh, six months to complete my task.

Anybody have a spare thesaurus?