La Belle Ms. Bones

Summer: Part 2 - Yet more festivals

2010-07-24T19:03:00.012+01:00

Think I'm approaching festival capacity at this stage. Just in from a wander around the Dun Laoghaire Festival of World Cultures and it was more a matter of surviving rather than enjoying the experience. So. Many. People.

Plus So. Much. Queuing. and So. Many. Flying Ants. Ok that's hardly the festival's fault but generally I'm sick of the downsides of festival life--the queuing, the greasy food, the wailing kids...ready to curl up somewhere quiet with a book now thank you.

Saying that, I really enjoyed this year's Galway Arts Festival. I was in Galway for 10 days of it and managed to get to a good range of shows across the spectrum: theatre, comedy, music, street theatre and the annual Macnas Parade.

The festival street theatre (as opposed to random buskers and performers of which there was as usual millions) was minimal - just two acts: Tumble Circus and Bruce Airhead. Both are acts I've seen before in either the Spiegeltent or Street Performance World Championships but both acts are superb and stand up to rewatching. The weather proved abysmal for most of the scheduled performance days which was unfortunate but both acts soldiered on and attracted large crowds when the rain went away.

The Parade was particularly good this year displaying Macnas' capacity for big imagination on a small budget. The title/theme was 'The Wild Hunt' featuring a boy and his pursuit of various wild and fantastical creatures through the streets. A minotaur hinted at Picasso, crows at Ted Hughes and a wolf referenced Blake and Angela Carter. To me the aesthetic was beautifully designed and realised. These pictures hardly do it justice.

The organisers were blessed with a sunny day and a massive crowd turned out to embrace the carnival atmosphere and witness the unmissable spectacle that the Macnas parade has become. The performers seemed really energised and engaged with the crowd non-stop as the parade wound its way from the Spanish Arch to the Cathedral.

It was amusing to hear that Peter Crawley, theatre critic for the Irish Times was a participant and he notes his experiences here. Augusto Boal said: anyone can do theatre, Even actors. And theatre can be done everywhere. Even in a theatre. Turns out anyone can be in a Macnas Parade. Even theatre critics.

Other shows that stood out for me included Corn Exchange's Freefall, Tusk Tusk by GYT and Badly Drawn Boy at the Radisson. Freefall was a terrific piece of theatre depicting a man undergoing a stroke and flashbacks throughout his life performed by an excellent cast. Tusk Tusk confirms that GYT are managing to consistently deliver high quality theatre from the mouths of babes (ok teenagers) every year at the Arts Festival. This show dealt with the dark experience of three children who've been abandoned by their mother. All the actors showed raw talent but without doubt the seven-year old child actor was the one to steal the hearts of everyone in the audience. The pure joy of pure acting was clear in his face and a barefoot kid without his mammy is about the most sympathetic character you can create!

Badly Drawn Boy proved entertaining mostly because of Damon Gough's self-deprecating tone which would endear anyone to an Irish crowd. Either the song was shit, a line was shit or he was 'shit at performing'. Mancunian self-deprecation to the last. He chatted and told stories to the crowd throughout his show (a trait I adore in a performer) even sharing his addiction to iPhone app 'Doodle Jump'. He's been out of the loop for a while and is planning to release a new album in October and I for one welcome him back - had forgotten how much I love his voice and songs.

My one comedy show was Maeve Higgins at the King's Head Ruby Room for Gerry Mallon's Laughter Lunchtime series. She wasn't at her absolute best but even Maeve Higgins at her worst is a hell of lot funnier than most other comedians out there. Highlights include her tale of being locked out of the house on a wintry morning and tales from her slightly overweight childhood past. She's got an immensely charismatic and friendly presence - you really want to go have coffee with her afterwards.

I was excited to see Rodrigo y Gabriela in concert finally and was suitably impressed by their ferociously fast fingers and geetar stylings. It's hard to stay engaged with an evening of music which involves no lyrics, however, and I definitely think that it would be a better experience to see them in a small indoor venue rather than in a tent in a muddy field (very muddy as it happened--rain tipped down for most of their show). Man I'm starting to sound like a geriatric crank - what's wrong with wanting a little comfort?!

As for the shows I didn't love... well you should know who you are for the most part. Uncle Vanya by the Bristol Vic was a great production but Chekov type theatre will never be for me. The Grippe Girls by Electric Bridget needs a lot more polishing and focus before it fulfills it's theatrical potential. Finally I probably would have enjoyed Druid's Penelope a lot more if it hadn't been wildly overhyped by the festival.

It's a very literary/wordy piece of theatre by Enda Walsh with lengthy monologues where their should be some climactic action. It's a very good production, cast, set and direction-wise, so credit is due to Druid for maintaining their high standards but I don't think Penelope as a play compares with The Walworth Farce. Maybe it's harsh to criticise a playwright for not being able to compete with their own earlier work but it still didn't deserve the arse-licking it got at the hands of the Galway Arts community. You are allowed to criticise stuff in the festival people!

And that's it for me and festivals for a while. August sees me hitting the road to California and Italy for some serious sunshine...5 days after I'm back from hols I'll be back to the classroom. Boy does the summer go fast.

Keep it festive folks ;)

Summer: Part 1

2010-07-14T17:13:00.009+01:00

Argh.

I've been meaning to sit down and review the various gigs and festivals I've been at this summer so far but keep getting sidetracked by yet more gigs and festivals. (The Galway Arts Festival is currently keeping me busy)

I caught Paul McCartney at the RDS, Greenday at Marlay Park, the Body & Soul festival in Ballinlough Castle and got to the Saturday of Oxegen (yes the day it pissed non-stop).

James Hendicott does Oxegen far better justice than I would and I happen to agree with his opinions on most of the performances so I'm gonna link his reviews on state.ie here: on Saturday's Oxegen highlights and Muse. Basically Florence was a bit disappointing, Dirty Projectors were weird and Muse rocked....also Two Door Cinema Club (despite the lead singer looking about 15) and Andrew Hozier Byrne are ones to watch for the future.

Greenday at Marlay Park were hugely entertaining; engaging in lots of audience participation (pity none of the audience members who got to go on stage could sing), fun covers and generally rocking their substantial back catalogue for an eager crowd. Great concert overall even if it did reduce the beau's 'Days Without Seeing a Penis' count to zero (he likes it to be as high as possible) when random punter got naked for no good reason.

It had previously been at 4 days due to an event at a stag where a sleepwalking roommate almost peed on his bed in the middle of the night. The Beau was not having a good week.

The Body & Soul Festival, originally a section of Electric Picnic, this year launched it's own spin off festival in the grounds of Ballinlough Castle, Co Westmeath in June. For only €100 there was 2 night's camping, music from a variety of not very well know bands and DJs, artistic installations, fire ceremonies and fireworks, a forest full of hot tubs and arts & crafts/workshop and massage tents...oh and a Friendship Nest.

The weekend was a scorcher and I think the weather was largely responsible for making it an enjoyable weekend--if it had rained it would have sucked--it had very little shelter and lacked in kick ass entertainment. As it was wandering around the stunning grounds and walled gardens of Ballinlough, sipping cider in the sunshine and being entertained by random bellydancers and alternative musical acts made for a very fun weekend.

My own musical highlights of the weekend were Kormac's Big Band, Harry Bird & the Rubber Wellies and Galway man Ultan Conlan none of whom I'd heard of before the weekend.

The place was crawling with hippies and free-range kids, the toilets at the campsite were disgusting despite there being only 1500 people at it but overall, for what it cost, I think it supplied excellent value for money.

By far the best gig I've been at this summer so far, however, was Paul McCartney. I had fairly come to terms with the fact that I was never going to get to see the Beatles play live but this concert came pretty damn close. He played for 2 hours 40 minutes with about a 30 second break before 2 encores.

We got All my Loving (chills down my spine I tell you), The Long and Winding Road, Day in the Life, Let it Be, Lady Madonna, Back in the USSR, Eleanor Rigby, Hey Jude, Get Back, Paperback Writer, all the Wings classics: Jet, Band on the Run and a spectacular Live and Let Die (the song was written to have fireworks accompany it) followed by a raucous encore of Sgt Peppers and Helter Skelter. Even at 68 the man can seriously rock and he was a charming and charismatic performer into the bargain.

There's something magical about being in crowd where every single person knows the words to almost all the songs. Seriously - if you ever get the chance to see him live just go.

Meanwhile I'm cramming as much as I can afford of the Galway Arts Festival in and will have views and reviews in the coming days.

Sleb Sightings in South Co Dublin

2010-07-09T15:32:00.008+01:00

Just saw comedian Kevin Gildea sitting outside a cafe in Dun Laoghaire writing.
He's Fr Cave in the famous airplane episode of Father Ted, you can see him at this link 15:25 in.

Oh to have a job that involves sitting at a cafe for hours just thinking. He was scratching his head and everything!

His hair looked a lot more normal in person though.

Other B slebs sighted in the Dun Laoghaire area over the past month include: George Lee, Ryan Tubridy, David McWilliams, Frank Kelly and Mary Hanafin. Hitting the big time here I tell ya.

Stay posted for another riveting episode of RTE staff and Irish Politicians Going About Their Daily Lives only on La Belle Ms Bones.

Speaking of Comedians....
Comedian Trailer = funny.

Bonesy's Back

2010-07-07T12:47:00.005+01:00

Well the glorious 'career break of wonder' ended last September when I returned to my secure pensionable teaching job in the wee county. Unexpectedly the time off from teaching made me want to do it all the more - I was sure it'd be more of a career change than a career break but there you go... A year and a half in PR taught me that I cannot stand sitting in front of a computer all day and really need decent holidays for my sanity.

The teaching year flew by faster than any previous year I had spent in a classroom and, despite pay cuts and the return of teacher-bashing in the media, I goddamn enjoyed being a teacher this year. A formerly head-wrecking co-worker had left the school, I had as many 'good' classes (classes where those who want to learn outnumber those who don't) as 'bad' and I had fun doing extracurricular activities like the yearbook and Drama.

I was less inclined to sweat the small stuff then when I had taught previously and I think that might be key to surviving as a secondary teacher. Punctuality and handing in essays on time matter to me; correct uniform, having silence in the classroom and backchat don't matter all that much. I was debating before most of these kids were born (man I'm old).. I can handle them.

Back in the first year or two when I began and I was doing it solely for financial independence and a lack of other ideas, I used to respond to the "and what do you do?" questions by saying "I'm teaching at the moment" ie I'm temporarily engaging in this as a way to make money. Now I'm content to say "I'm a teacher".

It's not all that I am but it is a part of who I am and that's ok. Of course, since the collapse of the Celtic tiger, teaching is no longer considered such a second rate career. Suddenly permanent and pensionable looks awfully attractive to Joe Schmo. But none of that really matters to me - I don't know how long I'll stay at this school - life could drag me to another part of the country or the world at anytime.

I guess I've decided to live in the moment a bit more and to enjoy that moment. As soon as you stop comparing this moment to every other possible moment out there and stop comparing your life to everyone else's (or how you imagine their lives to be)..well then you can start to actually live your life. Not how you imagined it to be but how it really is.

Really.

Hell I'm watching Sopranos box sets at the moment--life is really rather grand as long as you're not a Capo for The Family having to watch your back all the time... ..although I could go for some cannoli right now.

Far away cannoli is always greener. Fugeddaboutit.

Post-Galway Comedown

2009-07-28T09:41:00.009+01:00

Just had a wonderful 2 weeks in Galway for the family wedding and Arts Festival. Most days I'd have a swim at Blackrock followed by hours of coffee drinking and theatre attendance.

Working for a living is highly over-rated...

Firebirds on High St during the Festival

Peter Crawley does a good job of summing up the festival in the Irish Times here: Disquiet on the Western Front

My own personal highlights were:
- Decadent's production of Blackbird - a gripping two-hander about a convicted paedophile being confronted by his victim with many unexpected twists,
- David O'Doherty's lunchtime show at the King's Head - extreme hilarity without offense or discomfort
- Bon Iver's haunting melodies at the Big Top...despite it not being an ideal venue for such intimate music the songs were captivating and Justin Vernon's obvious affection for Galway gave the show a special edge
- Propeller's all-male production of A Midsummer Night's Dream - hilarious, spirited and utterly magical.

Circa's show Furioso was disappointing. The performers displayed their acrobatic skills without a shred of humour, excitement or charisma. There was no narrative, no character - nothing to engage the audience. Having heard such good things about previous shows it was a real let-down.

The Macnas parade too was somewhat anti-climactic appearing shambolic and pathetically small due to miscommunication about its layout. The crowd were not aware that the show was really the finale at the Cathedral and not the parade through the town. We had talked up the Parade hugely to all the wedding guests over from Scotland but most looked decidedly unimpressed on the night. I realise that budgets were greatly tightened this year but decent communication and marshalling doesn't cost a dime - it just involves better organisation.

I have to admit - the Ghost horse was pretty cool though:

And so the Arts Festival is over for another year. I'm boycotting the Races due to lack of energy/funds but will meet up with the gang in Galway for the Bank Holiday weekend.

As long as I can spend most of my summers in Galway...I think I'll be happy.

Good Morning

2009-07-09T18:06:00.008+01:00

Festival season is upon once more and it's time I awoke from the summer stupor I've been in for the past 6 weeks. The Film Fleadh is on this weekend and will be closely followed by the Arts Festival and the Races...and more importantly the Wedding of the Century takes place on the 18th July - if the Dobbyns can survive this they can survive anything.

I shouldn't imply that I've been doing nothing for the last while - I've been doing nothing only most of time. The rest of the time I've been super busy. Festival season in Galway actually kicked off early this year with the wonderful Volvo Ocean Race in June. Two weeks of free concerts, a festival village, shiny boats and gorgeous sunny, warm weather made it a great time to be unemployed in Galway.

I had a chance to hang out with my Galway buds, soak up lots of sunshine and engage in my favourite past-time - talking about how great Galway is. The Californian beau got completely sunburned on the day of the airshow in Salthill . He no longer laughs at belobstered Irish people.

The much stressed-about and heralded Hen Night also took place in June and was quite successful if I do say so myself. We enjoyed High Tea at the Balmoral on the Saturday afternoon to start things off. My photo album of amusing snaps of the bride-to-be went down a treat as did the yummy cakes and several divine gingerbread lattes (possibly the most delicious drink I've ever had).

We adjourned to Lorna's flat for hen games and final alterations to our bras for the Moonwalk we were doing that night in aid of Breast Cancer charities. Mark had submitted some hilarious answers to the Mr & Mrs game questionnaire and despite the challenge Lorna still managed to score 75% overall. She also won all the prizes in the pass the parcel game which included a dashing apron, rubber gloves and a dustpan. Oh the merriment.

We finalised our preparations for the 13 mile walk due to start at midnight and were most proud of our fringed, floral, sparkley bras. See here:

And off we headed to Inverleith Park to walk the walk along with around 10,000 other people - mostly women but quite a few men participating also. The craic was mighty in the giant pink tent and we sat and gawped at the inventive costumes and brassieres parading around us...nuns with hands grabbing their breasts, superheroes and animal themed outfits abounded. After waiting around a little longer than desirable we hit the road at midnight.

I was fairly confident that walking 13 miles would be no bother to be so didn't bother with the vaseline all over the feet and failed to pack any bandaids. Sure I'd ran a half-marathon last year - this would be a doddle.

Not so sadly - turns out walking for 4 and a half hours is actually pretty tough. Especially when it's around the rather hilly city of Edinburgh. By mile 9 my feet were starting to seriously blister and if it wasn't for the compedes generously donated by more organised walkers (ie Mark's Mum) I would have been a gonner.

As it was I was thoroughly wrecked by the time we finished in broad daylight back at Inverleith park. How the other half of the crowd kept going for another 13 miles to do the full marathon I have no idea. Getting into bed at 5am was one of the happiest memories I have in recent times--following only the memory of getting into a hot bath the following day. Bliss.

We finished off the hen with a glorious 4 hour dunch (that meal between lunch and dinner) in the wonderful Brown's on George's St in Edinburgh on the Sunday. Exhausted but happy we wore our yellow medals boastfully only to be out done when a another table of women arrived in wearing the pink medals of the full marathoners. If anyone deserved a good meal that day those ladies did.

After several weeks lazing about Dublin, Galway beckons once again - the Scots invade this weekend and thus the epic 2 week long wedding commences. Don't say the Dobbyns do things by halves.

I intend to soak up as much Arts Festival merriment as possible while still playing the dutiful bridesmaid. Tickets for Bon Iver, Furioso and A Midsummer Night's Dream have already been procured.

Will attempt to report/review when time allows.

The Secret Gardens

2009-05-28T16:31:00.019+01:00

The girls and I are moving out of the House of Fun in Inchicore soon. I'm preparing to return to teaching in Drogheda in September so want to move Northside, as does my housemate who works in Swords. The 'Core is no longer where it's at.

To be honest the 'Core was never where it was at. I tried to like the place but the village itself is not the most charming in Dublin. There's little sense of community, no cafés to speak of and limited shopping opportunities. The house was a charming, cosy place to live (apart from being drafty as hell) and I have many happy memories here but the time is nigh to bid adieu.

My favourite aspect of living here was getting to discover and fall in love with the War Memorial Gardens by Islandbridge and I will seriously miss the daily walk to work in Chapelizod through it. It's a secret oasis of elegance and calm in a busy part of the city with rose gardens, tree lined paths, benches by the river Liffey and for me was a little taste of Paris in dear old dirty Dublin.

First mooted in 1919 as a commemoration to all who died in the Great War, The Irish National War Memorial Gardens weren't built till the 1930s. An official opening was planned for 1939 but then World War II broke out and it was shelved.

The Gardens were neglected during the 70s and 80s and even became a halting site for several years. Restoration work took place in the 80s but it wasn't finally and officially dedicated until 2006!

The park consists of two beautifully maintained sunken rose gardens (left) surrounding a central memorial area with two fountains (see above), a War Stone of Irish granite and a Great Cross of Sacrifice.

Outside of the main Gardens the park stretches to the Liffey and a walk-way by the river continues all the way into Chapelizod.

This stretch of river is home to all the major rowing clubs in Dublin and sees individuals and teams of rowers demonstrating their prowess with oars at all times of the day.

It's also home to an array of wildlife including stately herons, sun-bathing cormorants, elegant swans, not-so-elegant ducks and occasional groups of exhausted looking brent geese on the way to warmer or cooler climes.

There are currently several families of adorable fluffy ducklings and cygnets who've made the river bank their home and I would advise any broody females out there to pay a visit to ooh and aah over the squeeze-them-in-the-cheek cute balls of fluff. There are two mama ducks, one with seven ducklings, the other with five and two swan families, one with one cygnet and the other with nine! The family of nine cygnets is beyond cute. It's especially nice to see swan daddies being so devoted to their young...unlike daddy ducks who are useless articles who force poor female ducks into submission then abandon them to raise the ducklings alone. Hmph.

The park is also a favourite with local dog-walkers and unlike Phoenix Park it's possible to see the same faces (and the same dogs) walking the same route every day. There's a loyal community of Memorial Garden walkers out there and once in the park everyone is friendly and genial towards one another. People know each others dogs names, discuss the progress of the duckling and cygnet broods and share broad smiles at being happy to be out in the throes of nature no matter what the weather.

I was part of this community for a short period and I would recommend to any Dublin resident to take a stroll in these Gardens some summer's eve. The roses are coming out and soon there will be a sea of colour in the sunken gardens, the cygnets and ducklings are growing in confidence every day and Suzy the border collie wants you to play tug-o-war with her.

Leave the sqalid bedsit behind and pretend that Dublin is Paris for a while.

Meanwhile I'm away to Galway to soak up some sunshine and Volvo Ocean Race craic - c'est beau la vie.

Quittin' Time

2009-04-23T14:37:00.009+01:00

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I realise I haven't posted in the longest of whiles - sincerest apologies but I should start to post far more regularly after May 1st as I'm....

Quitting work!!!!

Yipee!

I'm embarking on a 4 month break from paid employment before I return to the teaching sphere in September. I'll be broke but freeeee...

I've known that I was going to do this for a few months now but it appears to have just hit me here and now at my desk in the office.

*Giddy grinning*

I would have done it like this guy except I actually quite like my co-workers and boss here. Still how much fun would that have been?! Is there anything more satisfying in the world then quitting a job?

No more of this...

or this...

No more alarm clocks, deadlines, meetings, being chained to a desk all day, waiting for other staff members to finish their work before you can get started....No more 'touching base', looking at projects 'going forward' or any office jargon of any type.

No more office.

I realise that celebrating the merits of joblessness is strange right now considering how much unemployment has risen in the past few months and what a desperate situation many young familes with large mortgages are in. My heart goes out to those poor sods who bought houses in the last few years and have recently suffered pay cuts/redundencies/tax hikes etc. Both the banks and the Fianna Fáil government have a lot to answer for with regards to letting the economy run out of control in the boom years.

I'm just in the rare and fortunate position of not having a mortgage, knowing I have a job in September and having enough money saved to tide me over till then. I know I'm being a smug git right now but to hell with it - I'm off to eat me a slice of quitting cake:

What would your album cover look like?

2009-03-26T11:19:00.003Z

1 - Go to "wikipedia." Hit “random”
or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2 - Go to "Random quotations"
or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3 - Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”
or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4 - Use Photoshop or similar imaging software to put it all together.

5 - Post it with this text in the "caption" and TAG the friends you want to join in.

And yes I am both bored and uninspired...but this be fun :)

100 Minutes 2009 - Ten New Plays About Now

2009-03-20T11:30:00.015Z

100 Minutes 2009 opened at the Samuel Beckett Theatre in TCD last night - it runs till the 28th March so plenty of time to get in and see it! Here's the promo:

100 Minutes 2009 brings together some of the freshest acting and directing talent in Ireland today to work with emerging playwrights from around the globe to stage 'ten new plays about now'.

Painted Filly created 100 Minutes, a powerful and exciting format of theatre in which ten new plays by ten international writers are performed by ten actors in a single night. Fast-paced and entertaining, this ensemble production will deliver ten bold new texts in its distinctive 'elemental' style, aggressively focusing on the body, the voice and the empty space.

From fame to fear, foreign policy to flirting, hedge-funds to hunger and a generous dollop of rhubarb and custard along the way, 100 Minutes 2009 gives you ten distinct stories in rapid-fire succession, ten moments snatched from 'credit-crunch' Ireland and beyond.

The production features the acting talents of Sophie Campbell, Hilary Cotter, Mark Gordon, Yare Jegbefume, Aidan Jordan, Mark McCabe, Brenda Meaney, Robert O'Connor, Lorna Quinn, and Claudia Schwartz. It will be directed by Will Irvine, Louise Lowe, Gemma McGill, Bush Moukarzel, Sophie Motley, and Tara Robinson. Design is by Katherine Graham, and Nick Johnson serves as Artistic Director of 100 Minutes 2009.

Painted Filly Theatre is running 100 Minutes for its fourth successive year and gratefully acknowledges the financial support of the Arts Council for this production. Book your tickets here: www.paintedfilly.com or (01) 896 2461.

World pieces

2009-02-22T17:14:00.002Z

Not the wildest Saturday evening I've ever had... But we had fun :)

And now I know where the Solomon Islands are...

Stepping Back

2009-02-18T16:10:00.004Z

Due to excessive levels of stress and anxiety in my life of late, I've decided to take things slow for a while, to switch pace from insane, adrenalin fueled rat to mellow-easy-going snail.

No more having 5 windows open on my laptop at work all day,
no more compulsively checking gmail/facebook/twitter etc etc,
no more listening to/watching the radio/tv and reading the newspaper at the same time,
no more trying to keep up with all the latest movies and theatre,
no more sitting in Dublin traffic,
no more social occasions that I'm only attending out of obligation,
no more rushing,
no more taking on more than I can handle,
no more incessant planning of tomorrow, next week, next month, next year...
no more feeling like I'm running out of time,
no more unnecessary panic,
no more irrational worry,

Yes to more time writing,
yes to more time reading literature as opposed to journalism,
yes to listening to really good music and maybe playing some,
yes to slow meandering walks in the park/the hills/by the sea,
yes to meeting friends over coffee and having a really good chat,
yes to taking time to shop for and cook nice meals,
yes to nights in,
yes to walking to get to my destination,
yes to talking about how I'm really feeling instead of pretending everything is fine,
yes to yoga,
yes to getting and giving massages,
yes to doing one thing at a time and doing it well,
yes to relaxation,
yes to a realistic appraisal of how good my life actually is,

yes to the simple life...

Dimension Tension

2009-02-03T15:52:00.008Z

I'm not proud of this but I somehow managed to let myself be coerced into going to see My Bloody Valentine 3D at the weekend.

I'm not a big fan of horror at the best of times - I just don't see the point of making yourself deliberately anxious and scared for 2 hours - I can ring my mother for that sort of emotional trauma. The last time I watched scary movies with friends I managed to fling a glass of red wine over the beau who unwisely chose to sit beside me during Dawn of the Dead.

I was not allowed a drink at this movie.

The whole 3D thing did make it an entertaining experience - to look over your shoulder and see a cinema full of people wearing rayban style glasses was amusing and at certain points in the movie it made the goriness pretty dramatic. Mostly I just giggled with my companions over whether it was the mistress or the smouldering ex-boyfriend who was the masked miner pickaxing the poor innocent townspeople.

We also had the added entertainment value of some extremely drunk Dublin scumbags sitting right beside us - it would seem from their willingness to shout at the screen and inability to stay in their seats for more than 5 minutes that the 3D had them really fooled. They were part of the movie as far as they were concerned and even added a 4 dimension to proceedings with their foul odour.

Ah Parnell St...

I was glad by the end that I wasn't watching Revolutionary Road as I had wanted - luckily any interruption of My Bloody Valentine was most welcome.

There were 4 or 5 trailers for other 3D movies which would indicate a strong resurgence in the format - mostly they were animated movies and the trailer for the new Pixar movie Bolt looked really good. The headache that accompanies the use of 3D glasses is not all that pleasant though - feels like you've had your eyes crossed for 2 hours and €15 is a staggering amount to pay for a movie (especially one of My Bloody Valentine's woeful calibre). Being in 3D is not enough--a good script or some decent actors are also necessary.

Speaking of Valentine's Day...It's coming up soon and for the first time in ages I have someone to share it with! Huzzah! Ok, ok it's a Hallmark holiday that is artificially constructed to make couples buy cards and chocolates and flowers etc but...but I'm going out with someone for once so who cares!

Romance and rose petals and chocolate hearts for all!

Resuming Transmission

2009-01-20T10:22:00.004Z

Apologies for the lengthy break in posting blogs. I have no real excuse for it - apart from the fact that work has actually been quite busy (what's that all about?) and the trip to California was busier than expected...but to be honest I haven't been all that motivated to post - I'm hoping this is about to change.

Barack Obama will be inaugurated as President today - oh really you'd already heard about this? Yup this chap:

Still it's undeniably a day to celebrate and celebrate I will at the Democrats Abroad ball at the Davenport Hotel tonight. Maureen finally convinced myself and Alex to go a few days ago..."it's historic occasion...blah blah etc". Bob and Martina are also going so it should be a good night.

Poor Maureen got dragged on the immensely tedious Questions and Answers last night to represent Democrats Abroad. Just looking at the panel of Irish politicians and listening to their tired excuses for the state of the economy was enough to depress even the most cheerful Irish person. I think this sums it up:

Sigh.

Time Marching Onwards

2008-11-24T12:37:00.010Z

November? November?!

What the flip?

Autumn disappeared in the blink of a squirrel's eye and bleak, dark winter days are upon us.

Can't get too depressed, however; I head off to California in less than a month. Hurrah!

Sunshine, vineyards, palm trees...

...shopping and sushi here I come:

Re Bridesmaid issues - progress is being made - at the weekend we succeeded in getting the first dress fitting done and shoes procured for both bridesmaids. That's everything we needed to get sorted before the other bridesmaid heads off to Australia for 6 months.

Protracted discussions on the issue of invitations have resulted in an agreement to use e-invites as opposed to labour-intensive handmade cards - thank the Lord! My expertise lies much more in on-screen than off-screen design.

I have to ask myself though - if this is the level of stress induced by being a bridesmaid, what it must be like to be the couple trying to get married? Doesn't bear thinking about... Hats off to those who survive it.

Personally I think eloping is wholly underrated...

Hurrah!

2008-11-07T15:21:00.004Z

The new website is finally ready!

If I haven't been posting for the past while it's because work has been incredibly busy--but exciting too.. I've been hosting events, getting press, getting promotional materials made....and writing a whole new website for the organisation.

And it's done. Phew.

Link here: Habitat for Humanity Ireland

I've earned a mug of tea...

Panic on Camden St

2008-10-07T14:53:00.005+01:00

I got beset upon by a nasty cold towards the end of last week and despite staying out of work sick on Thursday and half of Friday I was still sniffling and aching all weekend long.

It was unfortunate timing as my 'to do' list for the weekend was extensive – my 'winter necessities' shopping list had become urgent as a result of the freakishly cold weather last week (Does anyone else think we're in for a Winter o '47 style marathon freeze this year? Don't say I didn't warn you) and more importantly my duties as Chief Bridesmaid for the Dobbyn family wedding 09 were becoming pressing.

Yes the wedding isn't till July 09 which should leave plenty of time for preparation but the bride has big exams in January, the other bridesmaid heads to Australia for 6 months in December and, well, this is my family we're talking about here.

My main duties are getting myself and the other bridesmaid clothed, shoed and accessorised (feel my pain) and organising the hen night. Doesn't sound like a lot but the workload seems to be multiplying exponentially as I actually start doing the tasks.

Bridesmaid outfits:

We have the dresses – they're lovely teal, flowy dresses that will suit us blondies perfectly. So far so good. Of course they have to be adapted by a dressmaker to make them the right length before bridesmaid number 2 heads down under. In order to be able to be measured correctly we need the shoes....She lives in Galway, I live in Dublin – the challenges mount. Once that's all sorted I have to get matching jewellery, design hair styles and possibly make-up/fake tans etc.

I'm knackered just thinking about it.

The Hen Night:

My darling sister wants no ordinary hen night...no dinner, cocktails and L plates for her. No...for her hen night my sister is jetting all her friends over to Edinburgh (ok Ryanair will probably do the jetting) next June to take part in the Moonwalk....an overnight walking marathon in aid of Breast Cancer Research.

Yes she's making her friends 'walk' for her hen night. In fairness the event does sound pretty cool – it's around midsummer so the night should be mild, it's mostly women who participate, people design funky colourful, lit-up bras to wear over their clothes, generally there's a festival atmosphere...and it's all for a good cause. I'll take that over matching t-shirts and L plates in Temple bar any day.

She's also considering taking everyone for 'high tea' in the Balmoral that afternoon for an uber posh, lady-like experience that the Grannies and Mothers will enjoy.

So far so good.

In fairness the fact that the Bride here has a clear idea of what she wants and is aiding the organisation is definitely a good thing.

It does look , however, like I'll have to design invitations, organise everyone to register for the Moonwalk early next year, organise flights, accommodation and design at least one funky bra (hopefully not 15 of them) in order to get it off the ground.

Step one (invitations) was on my list for this weekend and given the fact that I was staying at the beau's place just around the corner from the holy grail of Invitation design – Daintree - I couldn't use the cold as an excuse to avoid going.

My first mistake was leaving it till late afternoon to go in – the cold had me knackered so I slept till about 4pm. I arrived in the shop circa 430 to utter pandamonium...brides and brides families everywhere comparing Indian Cotton card, the merits of 'fan leaf' over 'aquatic plant' paper, shades of ivory envelopes, ribbon, dried flowers, feathers etc.

Daintree features a greater level of selection than any normal human can possibly handle without breaking into a cold sweat (which is precisely what I did not 2 minutes after entering the place). Brides on the other hand seem to revel in it...every aspect of a wedding requires endless decision making and each bride has to make exactly the right decision in each case or their wedding will be an utter disaster. At least this must be the case to explain the stress levels aroused by satin paper and silk ribbons.

I was looking for something pink and simple but also elegant and artistic because my sister is a classy dame.

Something like this maybe:

After selecting a pink envelope and a piece of Indian Cotton card that looked like it would fit into it when folded over I felt like I was almost there. I then started to look for some coloured/patterned paper to use as a seond layer or strip for decoration and at that point became stumped. Yes I could find lots of gorgeous matching papers...but what the hell was I actually going to do with it?

It was at this point my utter lack of an artistic ability became apparent. How many layers were there meant to be? What font would I use? How the hell was I going to print these up anyway? What kind of glue to use? Did I have to print the addresses on the envelopes? Why does everyone in here seem to know what they're doing but not me?!

My cold sweat became an all out flood and I had to discard the pink envelope and run. I wasn't in any shape to handle these crucial decisions – much more planning and preparation was required. As I gulped in fresh air on Camden st I realised I was in way over my head.

I don't know how brides do this for real on a big scale for an entire wedding. Whatever about hen night invites – where do people begin to design their wedding invites? Terrifying.

My only hope is intense internet research prior to entering one of these premises again. Being a Dobbyn might actually help me handle this challenge....for once we have the right amount of anxiety and insane punctuality for an event.

After all I'm not Chief Bridesmaid/Best Woman for nothing...it's up to me to see my sister has the best damn hen night the world has ever seen.

Mission accepted.

Getting my Goat

2008-09-17T12:17:00.009+01:00

Challenge laid down by Steve at Notes With No Commas blog.....

1) List two things that irritate you for a reason, which you should give, and two things that irritate you for no good reason,
2) Give credit to the person who tagged you,
3) Link your answers to the original blog - http://noteswithnocommas.wordpress.com/,
4) Tag four new people to participate.

Steve listed TV repeats and gangs....I think once I start I may not be able to stop.

For good reason:

1) Inconsiderate People

The people who arrive at the theatre/cinema 10 minutes after the show is scheduled to begin, people who leave their mobiles on, people who do back stroke in the pool at my gym, people who fail to clean up their dishes/empty take-away boxes for 2 weeks, people who park 3 cm away from your driver door, people who smoke indoors, people who vomit on footpaths....

Basically any behaviour where people display their complete ignorance of the existence of other people in the world. Please people! Open your eyes just a fraction, consider the feelings of the many other people that surround you in the world and then stop before you inflict noise/smoke/vomit pollution on them.

2)The Cost of Health in Ireland

I know it could be worse - we could have a system like America that precludes healthcare from all but the wealthy but I still think it's ridiculously expensive to stay healthy in Ireland. Pharmaceuticals are way more expensive here than in other countries due to the lack of availability of generic brands and the growth of chain pharmacies.

For 5 minutes of a GP's time it'll cost you circa 60 euro...for a course of antibiotics another 20 euro, the contraceptive pill will set you back 30 euro for 6 month supply....and don't get me started on the price of condoms.

If you're working on low income (as I am at the moment by my own choice) you literally cannot afford to be sick. I pay for health insurance to cover me should anything really bad happen but it doesn't help me pay for the GP, antibiotics, contraception - or any day-to-day healthcare expenses that can really add up. I can't even imagine how anyone on minimum wage copes.

My sister lives in Scotland and hears people give out about the NHS all the time but really they have things so much better over there...ie it's all bloody free! As in free free...no dollars, zero euros, pas de sterling.... Now that's healthcare for all.

No Good Reason

Um.

This is hard - so many gripes and so many good reasons for them...

1)Spiders

I guess my utter hatred of spiders is pretty irrational. Here in Ireland they're totally harmless, they kill flies and other irritants and they make attractive cobwebs.

But God do I hate them....something about those two extra legs they have on insects that make them repulsive to me...or the way they move.....~shiver~

2) Screaming Children in Public Places

I know children are a good thing...pretty essential to the survival of the species and all that. I even intend to have some of my own some day all going well and I know full well that I will one day be a perpetrator of this particular crime...

But do people really have to bring them to restaurants? and shopping centres? and cinemas? and public areas in general? There's something about the scream of a toddler that is so ear-piercing and disruptive of one's inner equilibrium that it makes you want to strangle who or whatever is nearest you at that moment.

Children should be seen and not heard!

There. Phew. That's a load off.

I won't mandate anyone in particular to do this--anyone with a blog out there have a go. In fact if anyone wants to add a comment here about what gets their goat--go right ahead.

Meanwhile I really should start doing some small amount of work to justify my income however low it is....

Adios Paraguay.

2008-09-02T10:26:00.006+01:00

I've been back a week and between jetlag and mountains of laundry have failed to post a blog. I could have made time to be honest but think I needed some time to process the whole thing.

Basically it was great.

Lot's of this:

and this:

MESCALA!

A great team:

and wonderful friendly hosts in Paraguay:

We actually had an Irish journalist based in Argentina visit out site and he's having a series or articles printed in the Irish Emigrant newspaper. One of them can be found here.

Between the 15 of us we helped build 2 houses in Encarnacion, a small town near the Argentinian border. The Habitat affiliate there is hugely active - in the past 10 years they've built 750 houses and are aiming to round it off to an even 1000 for their 10th anniversary next year.

The only difficulty I had with the trip was not being able to speak Spanish. It really is all pervasive in South America and English is greeted with stony blankness. We had such a great opportunity to get to know locals but language was a barrier. There was also a lot of pressure on the Spanish speakers in our group to translate for the rest of us.

Next time I'm heading to South America I'll habla espanol muy bien.

Hasta la victoria siempre!

Paraguay Panic

2008-08-08T11:58:00.004+01:00

AARRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Going to Paraguay tomorrow and have done about 5 minutes preparation for it. It's also the beau's birthday tomorrow so am taking him out for dinner tonight. Time for packing: 0 minutes...oh well.

Over the past week I've attending a first cousin's wedding (first wedding attended en famille - and quite enjoyable actually) and spent 3 days on Inis Mor with the gang for Chelle's 30th - lots of cycling, swimming and picnicking - a wonderfully wholesome weekend.

Back at the office it's been hectic to get stuff sorted before I leave - it looks like September and October will be very busy months promoting the new Local project and next year's internationl trips. To be honest I'm looking forward to being busy and doing some event planning, the summer has crawled by at work with everyone away on trips and no events happening.

*************************************************************************************

So Paraguay...? What do I know...

Well it's Spanish speaking....has a large German speaking population also....weather should be nice enough....the country has a reputation for corruption....

And that's about it. Never have I know so little about a country I'm about to visit.

What could possibly go wrong?

Tom, Tom, Tom.

2008-08-01T10:29:00.005+01:00

Dammit....I just can't find the time to do the Tom Waits concert on Wednesday night justice - wedding today and off to Aran Islands tomorrow for the weekend.

Fortunately lots of other people have managed to say what I wanted to say so here are some of my favourite reviews:

bomhemian.com

Irish Times

Jim Carroll Blog

He played for 2 hours 45 minutes, played a wide range of stuff including Tom Traubet's Blues (didn't think he played that anymore), Christmas Card From a Hooker, Hoist that Rag and lots of stuff from Real Gone, Mule Variations, Alice and other recent albums.

The venue was a circus tent and he was most definitely the Ring Master, conducting both his band and the audience and letting his body express the music when he wasn't singing; stomping and gyrating like a much younger man.

And his voice...oh his voice. Rough, lacking in clear diction, has seen better days...but oh so filled with emotion and beauty. The ache of heartbreak and despair hit on a gut level and the quips of a whimsical chancer between songs made you laugh just as deeply.

So, so, so glad I got to see him live. He did not disappoint.

Oh this Canal is Grand Alright

2008-07-25T10:29:00.003+01:00

Loaded gun found in canal

Garda divers have pulled a loaded handgun from Dublin's Grand Canal believed to have been thrown away by a man when he was challenged by officers.
Specialist units also recovered two mobile phones from the waterway following the alleged incident at Dolphin's Barn late on Wednesday.

The 27-year-old suspect arrested at the scene is being questioned at Kilmainham Garda Station under the Offences Against the State Act.

Leinster Leader

This professional hitman, who was wearing a bullet-proof vest when arrested, was found right where I go jogging....

How grand.

Lines Written While Jogging by the Grand Canal, Dublin

2008-07-23T09:38:00.008+01:00

Now that I'm settled into a routine in the new place I've started running again. Usually straight after work I bolt home, change and get out the door before I get lazy.

Unfortunately I'm no longer living next door to the Phoenix Park so I've had to seek out new tramping grounds and the main focus of my attentions has been El Grande Canal.

According to Wikipedia:

The Grand Canal (Irish: An Chanáil Mhór) is the southernmost of a pair of canals that connect Dublin, in the east of the country, with the River Shannon in the west, the two canals nearly encircling Dublin's inner city. Its sister canal on the Northside of Dublin is the Royal Canal.

According to Wikipedia also, it looks like this:

Hhhhmmm.

Now maybe the Grand Canal looks like this near the leafy suburbs of Portobello and Ranelagh...in fact, yes, it definitely looks like this there but in my neck of the woods it's less idyllic.

My route usually consists of heading up Tyrconnell Road to where the canal passes by the Blackhorse pub and Luas stop and heading east along the canal past the Drimnagh, Goldenbridge and Suir Road luas stops.

Ah Drimnagh.... Yes that's the place you hear on the news from time to time - a stabbing here, a shooting there, the daily drug bust. A place with which I was utterly unfamiliar a few months ago is now my neighbourhood or 'hood if you will.

The canal is this area looks a little more like this:

In fact when you google 'Drimnagh' 'Canal' you get a picture of this from a Flickr account:

Ah it's not that bad really - there are still trees and greenery, ducks and swans, pretty locks and people walking their dogs. There's just added traffic cones, trolleys and other rubbish in the water, added winos and junkies hanging out by the banks and the melodious ring of squad car sirens in the air. I'm beginning to see the same people out at the same time every day - one gentlemen with can of cider in hand shouts encouragement as I pass and berates me if I've given up running by the time I pass him on the way back - just what I need!

At the moment there are plenty of other joggers and dog-walkers around, kids swimming by the lock at the Suir Road junction and families feeding the ducks and swans so it feels safe enough. Once November comes around, however, and it's dark early in the evenings I don't think it will be safe for a woman on her own but maybe you could say that about the Grand Canal as a whole or anywhere in Dublin really.
I hate winter.

Meanwhile it is summer (today anyway) and while it's not so 'stilly, greeny' as when Patrick Kavanagh wrote about it - not with the Luas and cars trundling by non-stop and no more does the barge come up from 'far-flung towns' like Athy, in parts it's still 'leafy-with-love' on a July afternoon....

Lines Written on a Seat
on the Grand Canal, Dublin

'Erected to the memory of Mrs. Dermot O'Brien'

O commemorate me where there is water,
Canal water, preferably, so stilly
Greeny at the heart of summer. Brother
Commemorate me thus beautifully
Where by a lock niagarously roars
The falls for those who sit in the tremendous silence
Of mid-July. No one will speak in prose
Who finds his way to these Parnassian islands.
A swan goes by head low with many apologies,
Fantastic light looks through the eyes of bridges -
And look! a barge comes bringing from Athy
And other far-flung towns mythologies.
O commemorate me with no hero-courageous
Tomb - just a canal-bank seat for the passer-by.

-Patrick Kavanagh

Thanks to Wikipedia and Matthew S. for the Grand Canal pics.

Big Up to Big Love

2008-07-18T10:50:00.003+01:00

Yup just when I thought all was lost and I was to starve culturally for the week, theatre swung in to save the day.

Big Love at the Peacock was great - a great play with a great cast and beautiful set, brilliantly directed by the (yet to disappoint) Selina Cartmell.

Based on The Suppliant Women by Aeschylus (believed to be the oldest surviving play of the Western world), Big Love tells the tale of 50 women being forced to marry their cousins against their will. It sets the scene for much discussion on gender roles and relations, marriage, power and love.

The beau enjoyed it (Yey the beau likes theatre!) but was unimpressed by the portrayal of men in the play, one of whom gives a speech moreorless justifying domestic violence. I'm pretty sure that character wasn't meant to be a symbol for maleness or a role model within the play. I think the beau was right, however, to think the male perspective is underrepresented in the play. We get to hear from the women far more than from the men and it might have been more interesting had it been more balanced.

Yet again the Guardian review verbalises my thoughts succinctly and the Irish Times review pinpoints some of the shows minor flaws.

It gets the Dobbyn 'worth a look' verdict.

Gimme gimme gimme....a decent movie please.

2008-07-17T13:46:00.003+01:00

Mamma Mia last night.

I was hoping for light, cheesey, sing-along Abba fun times.

Sadly this movie disappoints even the lowest expectations. It's probably best summed up by a reviewer at the Rotten Tomatoes website:

...like cotton candy, unsubstantial, brightly colored, way too sweet, and ultimately unsatisfying in any meaningful way. Plus it might just make you just a little nauseous...

Really hoping Big Love at the Peacock tonight rescues me from the cultural quagmire that this week has been so far. Theatre - don't let me down you hear?!

Don't Trust the Critics

2008-07-16T12:50:00.003+01:00

We went to see The Visitor last night instead of Savage Grace, principally because it had gotten better reviews across the board.

Why?

How?!

How did this schmaltzy, patronising film get such good reviews? It's awful - don't go see it! Give me Julianne Moore and incest over this Disney crap anytime. (So sorry we voted you down Ciara - we will bow to your superior judgement next time).

Upon deeper inspection I found this review today and it's a lot more accurate than the ones on metacritic.com.

Saying all of this The Lighthouse Cinema is gorgeous - beautiful decor, airy and spacious - a great addition to the cinema scene in Dublin.

The next movie better be good though!

Here I Go Again...

2008-07-15T11:56:00.004+01:00

Back from Herrang - and still wrecked.

Who would have thought that dancing all day and all night for a week would be tiring? It didn't help that the 'private' room had a constant stream of people seeking showers going through it....really need to become a better sleeper.

It was a great week overall though - Herrang is still a fun, happy place and yet more Irish people got hooked this year. I especially enjoyed the final night party 'Home of the Happy Feet' - a bingo hall, nurses going around giving out 'medication', a senior Olympics, quilting, knitting, easy-chew food - so much imagination and creativity. Will get some pictures up as soon as I figure out how to get the new broadband working on my laptop at home.

Busy week of cultural imbibement ahead - Savage Grace at the Lighthouse Cinema in Smithfield tonight, Big Love at the Peacock on Thursday, Painted Filly play readings in Project on Saturday, TKO at Whelan's on Saturday and...um....Mamma Mia on Wednesday night....ok I know it will be awful, if this review is anything to go by anyway. I have a morbid curiosity about it due to my love of Abba music and how good the stage musical is meant to be.

I think it'll be worth it to see:
a) Pierce Brosnan attempting to sing
b) Meryl Streep doing the splits
c) to get to eat a big bag of popcorn and maybe some Ben & Jerry's ice-cream. (why else do we go to the cinema really?)

Reviews and reports here shortly.

This One Time in Dance Camp....

2008-07-07T15:24:00.004+01:00

Day 2 of classes here at Herrang Dance Camp - and in that short space of time my love of dance or 'joie de danse' has thoroughly and completely returned.

HDC is still a fun, happy place to be with maniacs who're obsessed with swing dancing all around. Everyone is still being overcharged for crappy, overcrowded accommodation but at least everyone is in the same boat - no VIP section here.

Mitzy and I are in the TV room of a big family home- there are at least 12 people in the house and 5 others in a 'house' out the back and the only shower facilities are through our room. Last night at least 8 people traipsed through circa 3 am for showers including one couple who we think had sex in there... I kid you not.

Many faces from last year are back (if I could've hand-picked the people I'd have liked to see back here I'd have picked all the same people :) I'm finding the classes quite easy and am wondering if I might have been ready to audition for the advanced Lindy class -maybe next time.

Live band tonight, Blues night tomorrow and Cabaret on Thursday - I won't be getting much rest over the next few days.

Oh well I can sleep in the office next week....

Shore Leave

2008-07-03T10:56:00.006+01:00

Sweden, Sweden, Sweden... The country where I want to be...
(to the tune of Finland, Finland, Finland.... Monty Python)

As I sit in the office with torrential, incessant 'wetting' rain pouring down on the bleak Dublin landscape, I smile, smugly.

For I am off to Sweden tomorrow :) Land of permanent daytime, sunshine (well more than here) and swing dancing....

Yes I'm going to swing camp in Sweden...again.

How to describe Herrang Dance Camp?

Well you'll find it near Lennox Avenue:

You get to do lots of this:

And some of this:

And sometimes this:

Dancing. All day, every day, all night, every night. Non-stop (well except to re-fuel on chocolate brownies from the Blue Moon Cafe).

Dance floors that look like this:

And every week a Cabaret like no other:

It's a little like Kellerman's in Dirty Dancing except the only activity is dancing and everyone's either a hot Johnny Castle showing off their moves or a Baby eager to learn all they can as quickly as possible.

Yaw Herrang-time again :)

House-roasting Imminent

2008-06-27T12:15:00.007+01:00

Isn't it pretty?

We've been the house 2 weeks now - we've registered with ESB, Bord Gais, have booked our Sky package, have put up our Galway Arts Festival posters and have even procured some bedding plants for our tiny back garden (thanks Mom).

We're settled. I'm properly at home somewhere for the first time since I left Drogheda (no offence to Phoenix Manor but it never felt like my home). We've lived up to our promise to cook for each other (well two of us anyway...not look at any Mitzy in particular...ahem), share the cleaning, have long chats over tea way into the night...and now it's time for the housewarming.

This Saturday night will see us opening the doors of Hope Cottage to an assorted jumble of friends and co-workers curious to see what house could possibly have won our fickle hearts. We've invited way too many people including lots of dancers who will weep at the criminal lack of dance space afforded to them. We've billed it as a barbecue although the rainy weather forecast will probably put a kibosh on that.

We have, in fact, yet to start any preparations for this party whatsoever (it's tomorrow) so I really hope that all 130 invitees don't show up....

We really should warn the neighbours about this one.

Cinematically speaking:

Gone Baby Gone South Boston thriller about a missing child-- really rather good flick--can't tell the story cos I'd end up giving away twists and plot spoilers but good job done by both Ben and Casey Affleck who directed and acted respectively (and respectably). Worth a look.

The Weir @ the Gate

2008-06-25T12:12:00.004+01:00

Wonderful.

Excellent.

Argh superlatives are letting me down here....

I was going to review it properly but I don't think I can top Helen Meany's review here.

Basically - it's great.........go see it.

A Midsummer Night's Day Dream

2008-06-23T12:11:00.010+01:00

Another summer Monday...another day of feeling dazed and confused in a half-empty office wishing I was anywhere but here. In summer all office work seems to move more slowly. With so many people taking holidays decisions take longer, it's harder to 'touch base' with people and to get feedback.. (Don't ya just love office jargon?)

Why don't more offices just shut down for a month in summer? It would give everyone a decent break without having to worry about what emails they might be missing. It would be something to look forward to and would rejuvenate the workforce in a big way. So little work gets done in summer anyway - seriously I think I'm on to something here.

Saying all of that - if I had this June off and was spending it in Ireland I'd be pretty ticked off - the weather has been anything but summery; chilly temperatures, heavy rain and, over the weekend, howling gales. I made the brave step of actually walking to work this morning (a pleasant 30 minute walk) - for a car-dependent like me this was big. I want to do this every day, both to give me more exercise and to quit using the petrol-guzzler so much, but the forecast for the rest of the week? 'Spells of heavy rain in many areas'. Why must the weather gods taunt me so?

Midsummer night has come and gone - the days will be getting shorter from here on in - there's a cheery thought. We spent the 21st doing a pub crawl along the Red Luas Line for a mate's birthday - 7 pubs in 7 hours taking us from Goldenbridge in as far as the Jervis stop. Living by the Luas is great - an all day ticket costs a mere 5eur. I could go to Tallaght, Smithfield or Dundrum all in a single day...it might be more excitement then I can handle.

The folks came up to check out the house on Friday and were duly impressed by its 1940's Dublin splendour. They also got to meet the beau and, despite the efforts of mates to scare the Yank off with talk of my mother, all got on well. Phew. He pretended to be interested in sport so as to win over my brother and father, I gently kicked my mother under the table anytime she said something like: 'Why is it Americans are so fat anyway?'.

Duty done.

For now anyway.

Culturally speaking:
Theatre: Going to see The Weir in the Gate on Tuesday - directed by Garry Hynes with a terrific cast. High expectations for this one.
Reading: Innocent When you Dream - collected interviews of Tom Waits. One to dip in and out of but full of Waits-gems and journalists trying desperately to describe his voice: "...like it was soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months and then taken outside and run over with a car"...
Listening: Tom Waits - Real Gone - how had I not heard of this album before now? Fantastic.

Hungry for Bread Like This

2008-06-06T14:14:00.006+01:00

Cooked my first meal at the new place last night. M & M were both in Galway so it wound up being an all male affair for the breaking of bread in Hope Cottage. Five guy mates and the new beau all ravenous having come straight from work and laying into multiple bottles of wine.

I chose an old favourite that I can cook blind folded which was a wise move considering I was operating in a new kitchen. Apart from one minor crisis involving the absence of a strainer for the rice the meal was cooked with ease. I wasn't all that worried about what the lads would think--they're pretty happy with anything hot placed in front of them; one of them layers his food with an inch of salt prior to tasting it...

I was anxious however to impress the new beau who has already cooked me a really excellent risotto and who has displayed a taste for fine dining. I can cook better than a lot of my friends but I'm happy to cook basic meals in general and I'm no expert in herbs/spices/vintage wine/mouldy cheese etc. I can do a mean casserole and mashed spuds but duck a l'orange? No.

He said he liked my Rogan Josh but I don't think I blew his head off with a gourmet bazooka... Probably for the best - no point him thinking I'm something that I'm not. I won't burn the scrambled eggs but I also won't be making blue cheese sauces anytime soon. Hopefully he won't dump me for a chef de partie from L'Ecrivain in the near future.

The wine continued to flow post-meal and the conversation turned (as it inevitably seems to do these days) to American politics. Obama was lauded, Clinton was dissected and the beau's penchant for voting Green was attacked. Well used to the accusation of 'wasting his vote' he deflected criticism easily - isn't the biggest problem in American politics the two-party system? Isn't this what democracy is all about?

A 90 degree shift in conversation led to dissection of all the latest blockbusters at the cinema; poor Indiana Jones 4 got bullied to death and Sex and The City isn't even on the radar of possibility for the lads. Then we moved on to TV series of the last 5 years. Conclusion: Lost is back on form, 24 has lost it and The Sopranos will never be topped.

It being a Thursday night the lads had the good sense to motor home shortly after midnight leaving myself and the beau to tidy the kitchen while musing on the evenings ramblings.

I love cooking for others. I love bringing people together in a relaxed environment and soaking up the craic and interaction that follows. If I could afford to fork out for the cost of food for 6 people every day I would do so. Humans are social animals and eating alone is the saddest thing in the whole world.

The girls will be moving in properly on Sunday and from then on social eating is the order of the day. We've discussed this a lot and they feel the same way I do. No more meals-for-one or fast food; just proper meals at a proper dinner table with gallons of wine and bottomless buckets of conversation.

Man does not live by bread alone.

Da 'Core

2008-06-03T16:12:00.003+01:00

Well three months down the line; countless lost hours on daft.ie; many new grey hairs later and our search is finally at an end - tonight the 3 House-keteers move into a bee-yute-tee-ful 3 bedroom house in Inchicore.

Thank flip.

The house in Tyrconnell Park has just be renovated and has tasteful decor, brand new appliances and old-world 1940's charm. It's perfect. From the yellow roses over the door to the skylights in the kitchen I couldn't have designed a nicer house.

It will be a bit of a squeeze--these houses have little in the way of storage space and the bedrooms are compact but the girls and I are determined to make it work.

It's also further out of town than we had hoped for but with several buses serving the area and the Blackhorse luas stop nearby we should be alright.

The main thing is: I'm moving into a pretty house with friends. I haven't been this excited since the days of the Fairy Princess Castle in Drogheda with my old teaching buddies. Living with friends is like being permanently on holiday: always cooking and making tea for each other, cracking open a few beers after everyone's had a hard day at work, planning parties and movie nights, and, of course, the pillow fights in our underwear.....

(Husky tones: that fantasy moment is dedicated to all my male and lesbian readers out there...)

In all likelihood I'll be ready to strangle one or other of the ladies in a matter of days for using the last of my milk or leaving masses of hair in the shower..........but for now I'm basking in the bliss of optimism and beautiful possibility.

Hope Cottage is now open for business.

Awaiting Tom

2008-05-27T09:38:00.003+01:00

Tom Waits tickets secured! Seeing him on the 30th July!

Happier than a Hooker in Minneapolis no wait....happier than a Sweet Little Bullet from a Pretty Blue Gun....no that's not it....happier than a.....than a:
Jitterbug boy Drunk on the Moon on a Little Trip to Heaven (On the Wings of Your Love)...ya that's it.

Happy.

Children are playing
At the end of the day
Strangers are singing
On our lawn
There's got to be more
Than flesh and bone
All that you're loved
Is all you own....

Maybe when our story's over
We'll go where it's always spring
The band is playing our song again
And all the world is green.

Back in the Office Blues

2008-05-26T17:49:00.003+01:00

Ok to be honest I'm not remotely blue: I just came back from a great trip, I've got a job I really like, I saw the Boss rock out the RDS yesterday, it's summer with long evenings and unfreezing weather.

I'm really rather sublimely happy.

Why yes there is a new man in my life--how did you tell?!

He's great, it's great, I'm happy. Let no more be said about it.

The only stress in my life right now to be honest is the continuing state of homelessness of the Magnificent 3: the M&M sisters and me. We've been looking for a nice wee 3 bedroom house or apartment in affordable range of charity workers for, oh, 2 months now. We've looked at a dozen or so places and have yet to find a place we like that won't make our bank managers weep.

Poor Mitzy is at the end of her tether having been the anchor of the search since March. Both Mo and myself have had breaks from the search with our states-ly visits but she has been the one seeing property after property while still living in a dark, filthy (although brilliantly situated) dump.

Enough of this fannying about. Time to find us a house.

And with that I go to check out a place near where I currently live--it's affordable and in a nice neighbourhood--pray it's nice....

The Big Easy

2008-05-20T16:06:00.005+01:00

Agh--have been on the internet for ages and somehow only have 12 minutes left in which to write an entry--point format needed:

* Have been in N'Orleans since Saturday--stayed in the French Quarter for two nights and am now in a cheap backpackers hostel miles out of town.

* French Quarter is sublimely wonderful--architecture like Paris (with a hint of the set of a western), coffee and pastries like Paris, climate like South of France... and jazz everywhere! And when I say everywhere I mean everywhere! Every shop, cafe, bar--it even billows out of the cars as the crawl down the narrow streets. Those who know me will know how perfect a town it is for me.

* I got a big shock when I left the quarter to come out to the hostel however--still so much destruction from Katrina evident--every second house is boarded up or completely wrecked. Passing under a bridge I saw 10 tents and about 30 people milling around them--this was evidently home for them. Left me feeling a bit winded to be honest.

* Have a lot more exploring and relaxing to do--off to hit the pool at the hostel now....life ain't too hard in the Big Easy ;)

Done Already?

2008-05-17T00:20:00.005+01:00

And so several hundred nails, shingles, 2X4s and gallons of paint later it's all over. The Jimmy & Rosalynn Carter Work Project ended this afternoon amid lightning and thunderous downpours, photoshoots and hugs.

As I sit at the make-shift internet centre in the foyer of the hotel I'm watching the volunteers slowly drift into the dining room for their dinner. Hard hats, toolbelts, sunburn and limps abound. I met Americans from so many different states I've lost count....

There was Dallas, from Phoenix; Cleveland - he was from Detroit; and Tex... well, I don't remember where Tex come from.

They came from all over; some just for the week squeezing the time out of their ridiculously short holidays; some have been here for months/years already, so moved by the events of Katrina they had to come help. Most strongly in evidence are the Americorps volunteers comprising young people who take a year out between high school and university to serve society. We've also met quite a few retired couples that are living out of RVs in a constant state of volunteering - one couple are driving from state to state building Habitat homes where ever they go. They aim to hit every state with the possible exception of Hawaii - fair enough.

The local Habitat organisation on the Gulf Coast was formed by two separate affiliates joining together in the wake of Katrina and Rita. They estimate that almost 7,000 people have volunteered with them since 2005 and their constant message is 'Don't forget about us'. This area is nowhere near recovered from the hurricanes (almost 3 years on). While they've built over 1300 homes so far thousands more are needed. Over 200,000 people are still displaced from New Orleans alone and in towns like Biloxi and Pascagoula certain neighborhoods were entirely decimated.

One lady tried to describe the impact--not only do you lose everything you own, including your job in many cases, but so do all your family and friends. How do you recover from that?

Kenya Wilson and her two girls have been living in a damp, stinking 2 bedroom apartment that was flooded by the hurricane. Hers was the house I helped build this week- a three bedroom house built 5 feet off the ground with a perfectly shingled roof (well the bits I did :). It isn't finished but it will be soon and, while it would have been built whether or not I had come on this trip, I'm glad some of my sweat and tears went into the building of it.
Here's the build in stages:

I really didn't think I'd enjoy the building aspect of the build as much as I did - but boy is it satisfying to swing a hammer! Most of the skills I picked up will be utterly obsolete in Ireland as building is completely different at home - even the terminology is completey different--who in Ireland is going to know what sheetrock, siding or penny nails are?

Thus ends my first Habitat for Humanity build-- every single American I know in Ireland has done one-- do I get my passport now?!

Tomorrow I hit New Orleans for some well-earned R&R - beignets and Bourbon street call.

Laissez les bons temps roulez...

The Building Bug

2008-05-14T00:40:00.005+01:00

Day Two of the build stumbles to a close here in the land of opportunity. Adorning my tired body are blisters, bruises and, despite the factor 50, an attractive builder's tan (like a farmer's tan only with boots and shorts' marks also). It's a good kind of tired though--sleeping like a dead baby at the mo (that's a good thing).

How are things in Eye-r-land?

You're from Eye-r-land? Eye-r-land?! My you've come a long way....

So it turns out we're basically the only non-Americans on this build. When they ask you where you're from they expect to hear state, not tiny European island far, far away. We have immense novelty value to random strangers...so far it's been a good thing but may become wearing as week goes on.

I'm volunteering on house no 19 along with the Northern Ireland team, a crowd of employees from Delta and a few other randomers. The Northern Ireland crew are great craic- a bizarre mix including a former minister, an Tyrone GAA fanatic and an English teacher (they're always cool) who's pulling a sickie for the entire week. They're permanently in good spirits and are trojan workers on the site ().

Delta have 60 employees in total participating in the Jimmy Carter Build. They're a major sponsor of Habitat for Humanity so lots of the staff have been on loads of other builds before. The fact that they're airline employees does come through from time to time though. Georgia sees that everyone has the correct type of nails: Would you like an 8d or 16d honey? Malcolm sees that everyone has enough to drink at all times....

It's been really hectic on the site since Monday morning. The foundations were all done before we arrived and so far we've put up all the walls, most of the roof, done the insulation and put up 5 million 'hurricane proof' bracket thingies. The brackets are bolted on between the foundation and the walls every 6 inches around the house and 14 nails go in to each one. I've become pretty nifty with a hammer quite quickly.

I'd forgotten how satisfying physical work can be--seeing a problem, coming up with a solution and physically putting it into place yourself. Along the front and back of the house the nails had to go through a metal plate for one half of the brackets. They had to be hammered about an inch from the ground so it was tricky to find an angle that worked. Eventually I figured out that the only way to get a good swing at it was to stand up and hammer it between your legs. it looked awkward but it worked and soon everyone was copying me.

Today we were up on the roof hammering down board type things. Fortunately it was overcast most of the time so we weren't cooked as much as we might have been. The only annoyance was the proliferation of insects attacking us from all sides. The most common one being the 'love bug'.

Early on we noticed this insect which travels exclusive in pairs....copulating pairs. Kenya, the future homeowner of the house we're building, giggling told us that they called them 'love bugs'. Well I had to look them up--check out the link to the wikipedia article here: Love bug. Let's just say the love bug lives a short but blissful life ;)

In the late-afternoon we had a surprise visit from another volunteer on the build....former President Jimmy Carter. He strolled up (followed by 5 black cars and lots of guys talking into ear pieces) to say hello and check on our progress. He jibed with the builders, hugged the homeowner and left us all with a warm glow inside... He's got the Bill Clinton charisma added to a grandad hugability.

Both Barack and Hillary need to work on their hugability--McCain has it in spades and these middle American types like it....everyone here hates Bush (Democrats and Republicans alike) but quite a few like McCain...be warned!

Anywho that's enough for me to have earned my dinner--casino hotel buffet here I come...

Foxy Biloxi

2008-05-11T20:05:00.002+01:00

No time so point format post I'm afraid:

* I survived the 20 hour journey through the airports of middle America to get to Biloxi, Mississippi late last night (well it was 11pm USA time but 5am Irish time--big yawn).

* We're staying in a Casino Hotel that's ridiculously comfortable and air-conditioned and it all feels a bit odd so far. The people running the build are super nice and friendly though....there must be a catch....

*The catch is our builds start at 530am every morning this week. Apparently on tomorrow's agenda is putting up the walls and roof of our house (in Pascagoula, MS)....just the walls and roof so.

*It's pretty smokin hot outside but I haven't been out in it for more than 5 minutes yet--apparently it hit 90 F sometime last week....I don't know quite what that means but they seemed to imply that was hot.

* I'll be spending most of the week hanging out with the Northern Ireland team and thus am being exposed to both Northern and Southern accents at the same time...expect me to sound funny when I get home. "Aye, how y'all doin'?"

* Lemonade and cookie social in hotel function room happening shortly.....definitely not in Kansas anymore.

More later in the week.

Swing News

2008-05-07T14:19:00.002+01:00

The swing community are 'a buzz' with the success of a short film featuring their talents that was on RTE last week.

Swing Talking

Swing Talking is directed by Anna Rodgers, and produced by Siobhan Ward, both amateur Swing dancers, and choreographed by Lucy E. Dunne. Aside from the Irish dancers on screen, much of the crew were made up of Swing dancers from Dublin. With just a week to prepare for the shoot, everyone teamed up, and helped create this short passionate jazz whirlwind, which also works as a metaphor for love and relationships.

If you swing dance in Dublin you will recognise most of the faces in this film. It features performances from Lucy Dunne (who flew in from Boston), Vincenzo Fesi (who flew in from Italy), and Avril Ní Chonaire (who bused it from Galway!), as well as Anita Walsh, Jonathon Gordon, Karl Kyck, Nicola Reville, Ciaran Houlihan, Johanna Foster, Siobhan Ward, Rose Cherry, Cahal Flynn, Daniel O'Neill, Libby Molony and Donal O'Kane. Maria Tecce, the Jazz singer and DJ does the voice over.

Swing dancing is a conversation between two people – not a choreography, and some might say, it’s a metaphor for interpersonal intimate relationships. The right balance of connection and tension is the key. You have to start off slow, and get to know each other. Then it can take off if you have the right connection. You have to communicate and listen to each other, or else the dance gets a little crazy, with both of you fighting to do your own thing. You might want to switch partners, or dance with two people at the same time. And in the end, you have a final dip, and then part. But sometimes, if it’s really good or you want to try again, you stick around for the next song.

This playful, familiar, and somewhat subversive form of dance is accessible to everyone – watching it makes you smile and want to get up and move to the music which we’ve all been listening to since we were born. The set in which our dancers perform is almost bare, yet in lit corners are symbolic props and indicators of the past – an old gramaphone, a saxaphone on a chair, a double bass. Projections of old swing movie archive flicker on the wall as they do in people’s unconscious memory. This is a dance with serious history. We’re all familiar with Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, but this dance really came from groups of black dancers in segregated ballrooms in Harlem.

With stunning dance scenes, dramatic lighting, and a dream like narrative on love and dance, this film captures the beauty of Swing in a breathtaking 5 minute Jazz whirlwind.

The link is here:
Swing Talking

Shine On Oh Ball of Flame

2008-05-06T15:13:00.003+01:00

"Oh I'm so hot"
"It's boiling out there"
"I'm roasting..."
"I'm melting....I'm melting"(Wicked Witch tone of lamentation)

Yes ladies and gentlemen for the first time in (it feels like) years the sun is shining in Ireland. The ground is dry, the air is dry, one's skin feels a pleasant sensation when exposed and the sky is a curious blue colour.

Could it be?

Is this...?

Is this summer? (wonderous tone of awe and amazement)

After a wonderful May Bank Holiday weekend (Lainey Fest) spent in Courtmacsherry, West Cork, involving kayaking, forest exploration, games, drinks and 'Gay Icon' Night (TM), I'm more in love with my country than ever. A sea of bluebells and wild garlic in the woods, the waves crashing on the rocks at Dunworley beach and wonderful friends with which to share it.

To quote Kurt Vonnegut:

"If this ain't nice, I don't know what is".

New Orleans - Land of Dreams

2008-04-15T10:20:00.007+01:00

Well, I wish I was in New Orleans, I can see it in my dreams,
Arm-in-arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me

Hoist up a few tall cool ones, play some pool and listen
To that tenor saxophone calling me home
And I can hear the band begin "When the Saints Go Marching In",
And by the whiskers on my chin, New Orleans, I'll be there

(Tom Waits-I Wish I Was in New Orleans)

I'm heading to New Orleans in less than a month and I'm getting pretty hysterically excited about it to be honest. It's a place I've always wanted to visit (other American cities on my list include San Francisco and Chicago); the history, the music (it's the birthplace of jazz for crying out loud!); the food, steam-boats and street-cars, the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain. As I look at my Lonely Planet the familiar street names echo in the chambers of my musical memory: Bourbon St, Burgundy....Basin St....

Basin Street is the street
where the best folks always meet
in New Orleans, land of dreams
you'll never know how nice it seems,
or just how much it really means.

(Ella Fitzgerald 'Basin St Blues')

Obviously, post Katrina, New Orleans is not the town it used to be. Since I'm participating in a build in Mississippi (Biloxi or Pascagoula) I've been reading up about it and am blown away how such an appalling tragedy could happen in what is ostensibly the 'richest country in the world'. No, not the hurricane, but the way it was handled: the pathetic preparation, poor maintenance of the levees and the hopelessly inadequate response from FEMA (the Federal Emergency Management Agency) and the US government.

The storm was first spotted over the Bahamas on 23rd August 2005. Over the course of the week it was upgraded from Category One to Category Five killing 7 people in Florida when it made landfall. Mayor Ray Nagin ordered an unprecedented mandatory evacuation of the city on the morning of Sunday 28th August. It was a better-than-average evacuation considering how many people normally choose to 'ride out the storm'. Of the 20% of the population who chose to stay in the city, however, many were poor, elderly, disabled or simply didn't have a car with which to leave.

Baby, please dont go
Oh, baby please dont go
Baby, please dont go
Down to New Orleans
You know I love you so
Baby, please dont go.

(Van Morrison/Them - Baby Please Don't Go)

On the Sunday night the storm weakened and moved slightly away from the city and, while it was still immensely destructive, people thought they had escaped the worst. By the following morning, however, floodwalls failed in various locations including the Lower Ninth Ward and water started flowing into the city at a fast pace. In total 80% of the city was flooded, bringing toxic swamp-like conditions to the town.

And then the chaos really started....

Looting and rioting engulfed the city as people faced dehydration and starvation without visible signs of help being on its way. Rescue efforts were hampered by rumour and miscommunication and the true extent of the catastrophe took several days to sink in with the Bush Administration. George W. visited the city 5 days after the hurricane and at that point 28,000 national guard troops finally arrived to put order on the city. Too late for the 1,500 citizens who had died (Katrina's total death toll was 1,836) and too late to prevent Bush suffering an 8 point drop in approval ratings in less than a week - people aren't stupid.

Good morning America, how are you?
Say don't you know me, I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
And I'll be gone five-hundred miles when the day is done.

(Willie Nelson-City of New Orleans)

Since 2005 New Orleans has been slowly crawling back to life. It's now back up to about 60% of its pre-Katrina population and much of the CBD and tourist districts have sprung back to life. Whole swathes of the town (including the 9th Ward), however, remain unreconstructed and many of its former residents doubt they'll ever return. The full consequences of Katrina for the town remain to be seen.

I won't have a pre-Katrina image with which to compare what I see when I'm there. I do intend, however, to do a 'Katrina tour' which takes people round the 9th Ward to see the devastation first hand and to talk to as many people as possible about their experiences in 2005. Ireland doesn't have hurricanes, tornadoes or cyclones so the idea of losing everything in one night is pretty hard for me to grasp.

I'm pretty sure my trip to'the Big Easy' will not be easily forgotten.

Happiness is...

2008-04-07T14:05:00.003+01:00

Yesterday, the 6th day of April in the year of our Lord 2008, the day of the Connemarathon dawned bright and cold over Galway. We looked out the window to see frost, hail showers and also scorching sunshine. Typical start of April weather; the rí mhógs as my mother calls it.

The 3,500 strong crowd gathered at the start line in Leenane, taking in the majesty of Killary Harbour in the shadow of Mweelrea. We reluctantly stripped off jackets, hats and scarves and huddled together for warmth before the race began at high noon. 50 yards down the road a local leaning on his gate shouts support - 'Nearly there!' We guffaw at the hilarity of it but deep inside I know it's not funny.

Before we reach the first mile marker the sun appears and suddenly we're running in a tropical paradise. By mile 2 we're positively scorching and discarded jackets and hats start to litter the ditches on either side of the road. Blue skies, the sun on our faces, babbling brooks and waving heather; the first 8 miles were really quite pleasant.

After that....well no amount of pleasant landscape could disguise our legs' dissatisfaction at having to tackle hill after hill after hill. Burning pain took us over Failmore river and blinding agony up the long slow incline of the 'Hell of the West'. Every so often you could get some water at the side of the road or overhear a conversation between two runners but mostly it was just you and the road, each as stubborn as the other.

And then, suddenly, the end was in sight - crowds of people lined the thirteenth mile and wells of energy sprang forth to keep us going. At 2 hours 10 minutes on the clock I crossed the finish line.

Never was I more happy to see Maam Cross in all my life... Medals and hugs, the most delicious food and refreshing drinks followed - happiness it turns out is as simple as not having to run anymore ;)

Currently I'm suffering stiffness and pain in pretty much every muscle in my body from my hamstrings, quads and calf muscles (expected) to my back, shoulders and even the intercostal muscles between my ribs (unexplained). I'm moving with all the grace of an arthritic 90 year old.

Apparently John Treacy's four principles of training prior to the 84 Olympics were "Believe in yourself, know yourself, deny yourself, and be humble." So I will be humble and say that I'm no athlete. I also know myself, however, and if I choose to do a full marathon in the next few years I will do it. I just need to decide to do it.

That's the hard part.

The Republic of Conscience

2008-03-29T08:55:00.001Z

by Seamus Heaney

When I landed in the republic of conscience
it was so noiseless when the engines stopped
I could hear a curlew high above the runway.

At immigration, the clerk was an old man
who produced a wallet from his homespun coat
and showed me a photograph of my grandfather.

The woman in customs asked me to declare
the words of our traditional cures and charms
to heal dumbness and avert the evil eye.

No porters. No interpreter. No taxi.
You carried your own burden and very soon
your symptoms of creeping privilege disappeared.

-------------

Fog is a dreaded omen there but lightning
spells universal good and parents hang
swaddled infants in trees during thunderstorms.

Salt is their precious mineral. And seashells
are held to the ear during births and funerals.
The base of all inks and pigments is seawater.

Their sacred symbol is a stylized boat.
The sail is an ear, the mast a sloping pen,
the hull a mouth-shape, the keel an open eye.

At their inauguration, public leaders
must swear to uphold unwritten law and weep
to atone for their presumption to hold office –

and to affirm their faith that all life sprang
from salt in tears which the sky-god wept
after he dreamt his solitude was endless.

------------

I came back from that frugal republic
with my two arms the one length, the customs
woman having insisted my allowance was myself.

The old man rose and gazed into my face
and said that was official recognition
that I was now a dual citizen.

He therefore desired me when I got home
to consider myself a representative
and to speak on their behalf in my own tongue.

Their embassies, he said, were everywhere
but operated independently
and no ambassador would ever be relieved.

Running Just to be on the Run

2008-03-26T18:32:00.004Z

After several hours tinkering with the course planner on www.run.com yesterday I realised that I've been totally underestimating the lengths I've been running in training for the half-marathon.

Instead of being comfortable doing 12/13km as I thought I was, it turns out I'm comfortable doing about 8km and am most uncomfortable getting to 12km.

I went about 11km yesterday after work and am stiff as a board today--including a bizarrely stiff neck that causes me agony if I turn left - yes I'm no longer an ambi-turner. Swing dancing should be fun later this evening ;)

How the hell am I going to do 21.5km up and down Connemara hills on Sunday week?

It seems I'm running out of time (boom boom). A lot of pain is coming my way on April 6th and there's not a lot I can do about it.

Ciara - my Irish Daily Star

2008-03-11T20:31:00.003Z

Finally the rest of the world can understand my awe and respect for my housemate and friend Ciara Boylan.

Not only has she got her viva for her phd this week but she also managed to start a 'media storm' in Ireland yesterday with a carefully timed email to the Russell Brand show. She had noticed some overlap in the topics under discussion on his show and those that popped up on the Ray Darcy show.

Her biting email caught the eye of Brand's researchers; he devoted his show on Saturday to the 'theft'; the Ray Darcy show responded on Monday and today.....her dream of tabloid coverage came true!

Page 3 of The Star features the story of 'out-of work sculptor' Ciara Boylan and her provocative email habits. She got her picture in the paper and all!

When interviewed about her 15 minutes of fame s glowing Ciara said "It's great--I've had the best day of my life. I'm not going to stop here - TV is next!"

"I want to thank ace reporter Bob Cox, the support of my family and friends and, most of all, my future husband Russell Brand for rising to the bait".

Good luck on Thursday Ciara, oh and happy birthday for Friday.

You rock.

Dear Dirty Dublin

2008-03-03T22:29:00.003Z

I'm beginning to see the nastier side of Dublin life....Got my brand new shiny red bike nicked at the weekend.

Bastards!

There's a slim possibility that I may have left the padlock on the shed unlocked so I can't even be righteously angry at the theft - I was asking for it.

They even nicked my bicycle pump.

Ggggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

*******************************************

Meanwhile 100 Minutes goes up tomorrow night and I'm operating the lights a few nights this week.

*busy*

*******************************************

Training update:
So it's less than 5 weeks to my half-marathon--time I started, you know, running and stuff.
I did about 9/10km on Sunday (after 12 days hiatus) and now have legs stiff as concrete. It's kind of a good feeling though...not sure why.

Goals:
* not to leave it another 12 days till next run.
* not to screw up the lights of the play when I'm responsible.
* to get lots of 100 Minutes posters up over next few days.
* to track down a cheap second-hand battered looking bike that no one will want to nick...know anyone who's selling?

Same Weekend

2008-02-25T19:02:00.002Z

In the same weekend that Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova win the Oscar for Best Original Song in a Feature Film, representing our country with pride and talent.......we elect as our representative to go to Eurovision none other than.....

Dustin

the

Turkey.

Just how incongruous it is that these two events coincided I cannot gauge as yet.

But it's big - big I tell ya!

Sick

2008-02-22T13:23:00.002Z

http://www.asofterworld.com/

I'm in recovery from a nasty vomiting bug - the horrible bit involving puking every hour and wanting to die in between is over. Now I'm just wrecked and, although I should eat, am very suspicious of food in general.

Woe is me.

The Show Must Go On...

2008-02-19T22:13:00.005Z

So after a restful one day's break I'm back in organisation mode - 100 Minutes 2008 is running in Project from 5-15 March and I'm in charge of publicity...

So come see it please!

It's 'ten short plays about now', all new writers and young talented actors and directors. I've sat through early rehearsals and I can already say without hesitation that it will rock your world (not like a big bag of drugs, more like a really good cake, so says the DOD).

Painted Filly Theatre was set up by my buddies Ruth and Jennifer back in 2005 and has produced consistently good stuff ever since. Check out www.paintedfilly.com for more info and reviews etc.

You can book your tickets at www.project.ie or 01-8819613.

Over and out.

Du jour:
This Business of Love - Domino - hard to track down song that was used for a dance routine at Goodnight Sweetheart - truly sensational! Voila. Daniel and Sandra.

And the Oscar goes to....

2008-02-17T21:56:00.003Z

Me! For pulling off the Red Carpet Cabaret!

Despite a venue without a bar or a sound system I managed to get a kicking swing night together with Cabaret performances, an Oscar poll and raffle.

I rock.

It's been a mental few weeks but I never felt that stressed - I never felt that I wasn't in control. I might finally be ready for some serious event management.

Which is lucky because I'm doing publicity for 100 Minutes in March, I have more fundraising to do....oh and I'm Communications Officer for an NGO!

Did I sign up for a half-marathon in April too?

I'd better start training....

Ladies Night

2008-02-03T19:10:00.000Z

Me and the gal pals attempt to have a Girly night yesterday was an unmitigated failure.

Instead of girl talk, Dirty Dancing and glasses of wine in our PJs we had Rugby, steak sandwiches, more rugby, dirty pints and 16 straight hours of drinking and partying.

All in all a great day!

2008-02-01T00:29:00.000Z

Home.

Ciara had to climb the gate to get in - you know it's a good night when the buzzer isn't working when you get home.

Now we're having cheese and crackers and tea *happy*

We don't want to go to work in the morning.

Ciara here, she who had to climb the gate. No minge soreness, though the spikes did cut if very fine, or would have done if they had cut. Band were good. enough. One was 16 year old sounding like 20 year olds (Arctic Monkeys) the other were 27 years olds sounding like my youth (gone). Amen people. Amen. Amen to heaven we're all still here amening.

Ok bed now.

Stress Pants

2008-01-31T17:48:00.000Z

Exceedingly stressed organising the charity swing night in February - really didn't leave myself enough time considering I'm going to England swing dancing the weekend before and that leaves.....um......one weekend in which to prepare for the whole thing. Luckily the spot prizes are pouring in so the raffle will be good....unluckily the dance performers have feck all time to rehearse so the 'cabaret' side' of it is likely to be shite. D'oh.

I'm calling it the 'Red Carpet Cabaret' cos it's the week before the Oscars. We're using Fimbase as a venue, the dance performances will all be movie-themed, there'll be an Oscar poll competition, movie clips will play in the background and there'll be popcorn!

Film-tastic.

Ps Ciara's amazing.( she made me write that) Shut up Ciara!

She's telling me about her dead list for 2008- the morbid competition (run by Canadians) where you predict what famous people are going to die in the coming year. On her list: Aretha Franklin, Gorbachev, John Goodman, Maggie Thatcher, Ian Paisley, Kurt Douglas, Little Kim, Naomi Campbell, Keith Richards, OJ Simpson, Janet and Michael Jackson-you get more points for young people so you've got to consider who's old, who's fat and who lives on the edge.............................I didn't say it was a nice competition.

We're going out to a gig at Whelan's tonight and after my stress pants week I need a few beers - since I don't want a hangover we're gonna start early and finish early - I've just finished my first beer in weeks - God it was good. So much for my fitness kick..........but in fairness- there are crazy blizzards outside, work has been mental, I'm organising an event that I'm worried will be awful - if alcohol wasn't made for situations like this then when is it?

Anyway it's time for beer number 2 :)

Bow Before Me

2008-01-27T19:41:00.000Z

I am a fitness God.

Not a day has gone by in the past 3 when I have not performed feats of endurance beyond that of mere mortals (ie stuff I couldn't have done a month ago).

On Friday I ran the prom in Salthill - I'm not talking a gentle jog from blackrock to Seapoint. I ran from my house in Knocknacarra to the end of the prom at the GCI an back...by my reckoning at least 6km. But this would not ordinarily have been a wonderous achievement - this day I did it in gale force winds.

When the wind was behind me I ran double time when it was against me I more or less ran on the spot while sand stung my eyes and seaweed got tangled in my hair. I am a fitness God.

On Saturday I spent 4 hours learning the Tranky Do, a very physically and mentally challenging jazz dance - despite having done parts of it before and knowing most of the individual steps involved I found it hard. I'm just woeful at remembering what step comes next so while everyone else is Susie Q'ing or doing Boogie Drops I'm usually Falling off the Log.

After a coma-like nap I was out dancing again at a swing night in the Office bar in Salthill. I am a fitness God.

Today, despite aching limbs and weary bones I forced myself out for another run - not quite so long as Friday and in much nicer conditions (positively Spring-like). But a run nonetheless not two days after a previous run - I am a fitness God.

And it feels good.

Du Jour:
Song - The Hill by Marketa Irglova 'Once' Soundtrack.

Imagine the divorce proceedings...

2008-01-21T22:04:00.000Z

There are 7 teenagers in Ireland on their second marriage.

God bless the Census for telling us these amazing facts.

Marriage number 2 and not even 20.

Man I've got to get my act together...

A Table Too Far.

2008-01-20T21:48:00.000Z

Well it's a week on and training has stalled somewhat. After my epic run last Sunday my legs weren't functional till oh about Wednesday. The following few days involved a night of swing dancing, a hatha yoga class but no running.
I went for a short run through a rain-sodden Phoenix park on Friday after work (when you have ducks keeping you company on a jog you know you're in Ireland) but have failed to don my running gear since then. Tut tut.

I did make the ostentatious purchase of a bicycle yesterday which, I think, indicates my commitment to this 'getting fit' lark. I got a helmet, lights and a florescent strappy thing to wear so I'm visible at night. I mean business.

Of course the forecast is for non-stop torrential rain tomorrow so I may not abandon my beloved Fiat Brava just yet. The new Eco-friendly, healthy Ms Bones is on her way though.

Really.

I mean it!

You readers know me too well.....

Anyway the reason I didn't get out for another long run this weekend (aside from the miserable weather) was that I my hosting duties for my long awaited Blues night occupied so much of my time. Extensive cleaning of Phoenix Manor was needed, as was shopping for a mountain of food and booze. Hours were spent making playlists of Blues music (of which I had almost none before Peter burned some MP3s for me - thanks Pete).....and a good 40 minutes was spent trying to wrestle a table out of the kitchen to make room for dancing.

Sadly despite Ciara and my mammoth efforts the table was not willing to be evicted. We managed to get it into the hallway but further than that it would not budge. Towards the living room it got jammed on the doorway and towards the front door the hall narrows. I was fully prepared to chop 4 inches of each of the table's legs (I really don't like that table) but Ciara counseled forbearance. Instead we moved the table from the living room (I table I quite like) into the back garden (there's no justice for decent hard-working tables in this world) where it got rained on the entire night. When I went to take it in this morning it was covered in white patches where water had sat on it. I was full sure I had ruined the table but now that it's dried the patches have disappeared. Anyone know what phenomenon this is?

The party itself was great -we stuck to dim lighting using only a few strings of fairy lights, candles and a red lamp shade for effect. With Billie Holiday, Bessie Smith, Muddy Waters, BB King, Ella Fitzgerald (only the mournful songs) and Tom Waits on the stereo it made for a very mellow, speakeasy style atmosphere. Too mellow really--the dancing didn't start till 1am cos everyone was happy chatting away. In attendance were a random mix of dancing and non-dancing buddies who all got on remarkably well (some of them a little too well- you know who you are). I had never really seen the effects of vast gin-consumption before....

And what did we learn?
No 1. no house is too small for dancing,
No 2. blues dancing is for doing not for watching...and
No 3. gin is not our friend, no matter how good an idea it seems at the time.

Du jour:
Song: Silver Lining by Rilo Kiley
Book: Wuthering Heights (Confession: I've never read it before.....That's bad. I mean I have a degree in English and was teaching literature to teenagers without having read it. If the teaching council ever find out......)

A Half Marathon? Does that mean I can do it half-arsed?

2008-01-14T13:14:00.000Z

I’m normally good at keeping my head down for January as diets and gym memberships start flying about ready to hit vulnerable people in their post-Christmas sluggishness. I haven’t escaped this time, however. It appears that I’ve signed up to do a half-marathon in April.
No, not a 5 or 10 km fun run on city streets; a half-marathon – that’s 13 miles or 20 kilometres and it’s part of the Connemarathon which involves hills ie running up hills. Feel free to commit me to an online mental institution.

It’s all the fault of my do-gooder, go-getter co-workers here at Habitat for Humanity. They’re all tall with perfect teeth and enjoy mountain climbing while wearing ethically manufactured boots and when they reach the top eat organic lentil soup. First one signed up for the Connemarathon, then another and suddenly I was the only one in the office who hadn’t signed up. Well I couldn’t be Johnny-no-mates for 3 months left out of all the planning and training talk – and I couldn’t miss a weekend of craic in Connemara. So what if I’ve to run 20 kilometres – I’ll manage.

At least that’s what went through my head when I filled in the online application – that’s the problem with the internet – everything’s so easy – spend 50 quid on a book – just one easy click....spend 120 quid on a flight to Rome – simple....suddenly your buying antique furniture on ebay and gambling thousands away playing poker with random Russians. Money doesn’t feel real when it’s just a number on a screen and marathons don’t seem difficult when they’re just words on a screen.

One good thing about it is that it will help me do my fundraising for the trips to New Orleans and Ghana building houses that I intend to do this summer. Doing two Habitat trips in one year is another good reason to reclassify me as mentally unhinged, considering the amount of planning, fundraising and preparation that goes into a volunteer trip abroad. I really want to do both the Jimmy Carter blitz build in May and go on an Open Team Build to Ghana in August though. Sure I’ll give it a go anyway.

I started my training yesterday with a run in Phoenix Park. Whenever I’ve gone jogging in the past I’ve been easy on myself- 10 minutes of running earns 5 minutes walking. So whenever I’ve gotten out of breath or the lungs start to hurt I’ve eased up and taken a break. I can’t afford to do that if I’m going to complete this half-marathon in less than 8 hours however, so yesterday I pushed it.

I went all the way from my home in Stoneybatter to the Chapelizod gate (via Corkscrew Road as opposed to straight road) and back only stopping after particularly tough hills or when my knees felt weird (I’m worried about damaging my knees – what if I couldn’t swing dance?! It’s a thought to unbearable to consider). By my reckoning (measuring on google maps) that was 8-9 kilometres so it was a good start. Admittedly I can barely walk today and it’s evident that I’ve awoken quite a few muscles that have been enjoying dormancy for about a decade but surely that’s the worst over with now? Surely it gets easier from here on in?

I’ll keep you posted throughout my training and should you want to donate to the worthy cause of Habitat for Humanity and support my lunatic bid to become a long-distance runner click here:
http://www.mycharity.ie/event/elaine_dobbyns_event

Remember money is smaller on the internet so give big!

2008 - Not a Minute Too Late

2008-01-04T16:10:00.000Z

The new year is off to a fairly good start for me. Well I'm not terminally depressed even though I've no money, it's dark, wet and freezing out and I've no holidays in the next few months....I'm not considering painless methods of self-annihilation and I think that's achievement enough.

It's also Friday afternoon and I've survived the first week back at work (well 3 days); a week that I've basically never had to work before because I always had teaching or college holidays. I don't see what all the fuss was about - there's been hardly any traffic, we've eased ourselves into work gently and next Monday will not be as traumatic for me as it will for every teacher and school kid in the country...mwhahahaha.

My resolutions to eat more healthily and get more exercise (I'm terribly imaginative) haven't amounted to much as yet. The workplace is my major downfall; we make tea every hour or so and there are always chocolate biscuits on offer. My willpower does not extend to the refusal of chocolate in any form. I'll just have to start skipping dinner....

The weather has precluded exercise in any form apart from running from the car to the front door. Really not sufficient if I'm going to do a mini-marathon this year. Having a car really makes you lazy. Bicycle purchase necessary soon.

I did manage to drag some non-dancers to a Salsa class last night and it was a lot of fun. Some of the guys who swing dance were there - in fact there were loads of guys there....as in more than girls in some of the classes. Wow.

Michelle and Martina were naturals at it, Declan, being both male and Irish, struggled but he did have a wicked 'salsa face' that was most entertaining. It's not unlike his 'I've a bottle of buckfast and am happy face'.

Personally I found it tricky to get the hang of the different rhythms but because I'm able to follow I could blag my way through even with some good dancers. Will hit an Improvers class next time- I learn faster with guys who know what they're doing (wink wink). Hopefully the other three will stick with it too. Dance is fun, cool and basically more people should do it.

A night of lying prone on the couch under a duvet is on the cards for me tonight *bliss* It's less a matter of laziness than sheer poverty - it's still the only thing I want to do tonight. Apparently French peasants in the nineteenth century hibernated for 6 months of the year; as in literally sleeping round the clock, only rising to eat some stale bread and stoke the fire. Sounds fantastic.

Where has humanity gone wrong that we now have to work all year round? I'll be getting on to my union about this....

It's a Wonderful Life

2007-12-22T19:56:00.000Z

Finally! Access to the internet in a non-work environment!
My deepest apologies for woeful upkeep of the blog - I'm intending to do some catch up over the holidays so stay tuned :)

It's the final night of Strictly Come Dancing - once this last show is over I will be liberated from this albatross of an addiction - I want to live again!

Gethin was shafted by the judges in the semi-final who chose to save Matt Di Angelo over him. In my opinion (and not only because I'm love with him) Gethin was a far more graceful and proficient dancer. Matt actually blanked on whole chunks of two dances one week - how can someone like that make it to the final?

*Bitter*

Anyway if you haven't noticed Christmas has hit--and with it falling on a Tuesday this year most people have a nice few days off beforehand. The anticipation of Christmas is the best part of it all so I'm glad it's prolonged this time around.

I finished work yesterday and had the obligatory drunken session with co-workers last night - quite strange when there are only 8 of us in the office. They're a good bunch of people though so we had fun nonetheless - silly dancing, shot drinking and a nightlink home - It's a wonderful life :)

Today I drove the siblings home from Dublin - we're all so grown up and independent now and since we're all living separately get on swimmingly well. I have a feeling this could be quite a nice Christmas.

I have to say I'm a bit disappointed that not a single channel is screening It's a Wonderful Life on Christmas Day. I love that movie and it's become part of the Christmas tradition over the past few years for me.

Oh well - will just have to watch some clips on youtube so...

Merry Christmas, movie house! Merry Christmas, Emporium! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan!

Salsa Starts Here

2007-12-04T15:27:00.000Z

Gethin got three 10s for his waltz on Sat :)
and he did the sexiest Salsa ever :D

I'm ruined for other, normal, men ---he's just so perfect!

Watch his Salsa vid if you don't believe me.

My swing teacher is taking a break from teaching in the New Year--finally I have a chance to try another type of dancing--I'm pretty sure it'll be salsa cos there's a lively scene in Dublin but I'm open to suggestions....

Strictly Addicted

2007-11-23T20:16:00.000Z

Ok so I have to come out of the closet.

The truth is that for some time now I've been living a lie.

On the surface I've been living like a normal person; going to work, drinking with friends, going to see movies etc but at night, behind closed curtains I've been hiding a shameful secret.

It involves strange costumes, unusual positions and a bizarre mix of partners. Yes, the truth is, I've embraced the lifestyle of a gay man.

I love Strictly Come Dancing.

Oh it feels so good to say it out in the open! Nobody understands my compulsion to watch this show. Saturday evening prime-time on BBC1 is normally for grannies and kids; not for young, single people with exciting social lives (ahem...).
I mean - it's hosted by Bruce Forsythe for God's sake!

I didn't mean to get hooked. It started off casually; I'd watch the odd Saturday show not knowing my quickstep from my samba. But after a while I stopped missing shows on any day; the weekend performances and results show would fuel my hunger and suddenly I was watching the commentary show "It Takes Two" every night of the week.

From Brendan's illegal use of extra lifts to Kate's hopeless stomping, Kenny's kilted Paso Doble to Barnes' wicked salsa--I love it all. I spending significant quantities of work time surfing youtube for videos of interviews or performances and I'm even keeping an eye on the online forums where fans discuss the show (quite a few of them out there Ill tell you...)

I'm a SCD nerd.

How did this happen?

Well truthfully Strictly Come Dancing has something this year it had no other year: Gethin Jones.

This beautiful Welsh hunk of a Blue Peter presenter is by far the most attractive person to grace my television in years. And more than just a fit body he has a soft Welsh accent, excessive modesty, excellent manners, the ability to dance and he's wonderful with kids. Women everywhere will understand the rarity of a package like this.

His switch from kids programming to Strictly has earned him many, many new female admirers. I swear - I haven't had a crush on a TV personality like this since the age of 14.

I need help....or at least some friends to join me in my madness. Take a look at the videos and tell me Gethin's not beautiful--go on - I dare ya.

Another month of this and I'm going cold turkey I promise - I'll have to - the show only goes on till Christmas :(

In the meantime - keep dancing!

Corked

2007-11-06T09:24:00.001Z

Look I have a job now...I have no time for this silly blog writing.
Don't look at me like that!
I'm sorry alright?
SORRY!

Won't leave it so long between blogs again I promise.
Who am I promising anyway?
It's not like I have readers anymore....sniff, sniff.
Disloyal, fickle gadabouts!

Ok enough of a rant...do I have any news?

Well the job's going well--still learning lots and the pay isn't as bad as I'd expected. That's as much as you can ask for really.

Outside of work I've been socialising quite a bit (the main reason for the paucity of blogs) and the debauchery climaxed at the annual Inniscarra Cork Jazz Festival Bank Holiday weekend.

After last year I swore never again. Never again would I grace the O'Brien Den of Inequity where the souls of the departed walk freely among the living (and that's before the Halloween costume party begins), never again the excesses which make Nero's Rome look like a kid's birthday party, never again the week of illness afterwards when your body sues your brain for damages--I couldn't this year--no mid-term in which to recover!

And yet I found myself there among the spider webs and pumpkins, in a silly outfit, consuming any liquid offered me (two words: Buck fast), visiting the Inniscarra Bar, sampling the 'special' flapjacks, jiving to the bands and DJs, checking out many of the pubs in Cork that begin with 'C', bopping to Rob Strong's band at Scott's...........and finally leaving, a shell of my former self on Bank Holiday Monday.

Suffice to say I didn't make into work will 2pm on Tuesday and had the least productive week's work since my last week at the Grammar School....

Cork-- I shake my fist at thee. I lost the battle but, mark my words, I will the war.......

Vive la Différence.

2007-10-16T12:54:00.000+01:00

It's Day 10 at the new job and, as Captain Frodo says half way through the second tennis racket; so far so good.

I'm working as a Communications Officer for an NGO (non-government organisation... ie a charity but we don't like to call them that any more...) which believes in simple, affordable housing for all. Habitat for Humanity started in the US but has a presence all over the world now. The Irish operation is still quite small (only 6 of us in the office) but it's growing all the time. There are two main projects to the organisation: Global Village and the Local Programme.

The Global Village programme sends Irish volunteers to developing countries to work side-by-side with people helping build houses. They fundraise prior to departure and the money they raise makes a big difference to the communities they visit. The Local Programme builds and renovates houses here in Ireland. So far they've built 4 houses in Ballymun and we're about to break ground in Ballyfermot where we'll be building 16 houses: our biggest local project to date.

As Communications Officer I'm in charge of PR and general communication type stuff.....I think. Ok I haven't a clue what I'm doing but by God am I learning quickly! I more or less have autonomy over what I do so I'm tapping into wells of self-motivation, creativity and initiative that have lain dormant since college society days. As a teacher your day to day tasks are pretty straight forward and there's so little time for being creative that you might only spend 5 minutes a week on it. Here I'm learning and experimenting constantly. This is a good thing.

The office is so much more civilised than school. It's quiet and peaceful; everyone types away behind their partitions with the only interruption being the occasional phone call or when I have to ask an inane question of the others (I hate those first few weeks in a new job when you don't know where the stapler is....). There's no yelling or name-calling (and that was only the staff room), no thunderous bells ringing, no stampede at lunchtime, no psychopaths (so far as I can see) and, most significantly of all, no teenagers. What a relief!

It's strange—I'm working longer hours here but I leave the office less tired at 530pm than I did leaving the classroom at 345pm. I'm totally relaxed and respected here. It's...........it's actually, really, really boring........ I can't believe I miss teaching! One thing I could never say about teaching was that it was boring. Repetitive, stressful, emotionally draining yes...but never dull. I guess I can't judge just yet as I'm still just settling in and amn't doing half the work I will be doing as part of this job. For example, tomorrow I'm manning a stand at St Pat's International Day which is more or less like a Society's Day—that's got to be fun right?

I'm going to quit whinging now. I'm really happy to be exactly where I am right now. What would Kurt Vonnegut say?

“ If this ain't nice, I don't know what is....”.

Give a Squirrel a Twirl

2007-10-05T16:28:00.000+01:00

Squirrels are adorable. They've got it all--bushy tails, cute button noses, not carniverous (the cat's main downfall) and a bounce to their step.

I want to adopt one.

How hard can they be to domesticate? All I have to do is collect a mini-mountain of nuts in my back garden and they'll be my willing slaves. I'm walking to and from work through Phoenix Park these days--it won't take me long.

According to the videos I've found they make great pets--Check them out.......
(they can even be taught to water-ski--a lucrative side-liner for me if Dublin Zoo will let me set up outside their front door)

Squirrels - how have we lived for so long without them?

Saturday Night In

2007-09-29T22:25:00.000+01:00

Stephen Fry night on BBC2 - could there be any greater concept in the delivery of televisual entertainment? I Love QI (with a capital L). Excuse me if I drop some QI gems in here and there in fancy parenthesis {}.
The perfect end to a great day.

Admmittedly September 29th started with a hangover which isn't the best start to a day. September 28th saw me out on the town celebrating my new job; an interesting Communications Officer job with an NGO that definitely isn't teaching :)
I met Martina and her WIP (Washington Ireland Programme) buddies in Dakota. It was Friday-night-wedged and is one of those massive barns of Dublin pubs that is so filled with the sound of people talking that you have to yell to communicate. You know the type place where you can only hear the person immediately beside you and in a group conversation you find yourself nodding along even though you can't hear a thing. It's a vicious cycle of roaring and bellowing and only alcohol helps really.

{Did you know that when a tree is hit by lightning the sap boils and tree explodes? And men are 6 times more likely to be hit by lightning than women?--Do you reckon that's cause they're taller or cause they hold the umbrella more often?}

A few glasses of wine in, more Wippers arrived, one of whom was one of my new colleagues at the NGO - she said lots of nice things about how fantastic I was in the interview which made Ms Bones exceedingly happy and ready to celebrate all the more. I switched from wine to Swedish cider.

{Lightning strikes the earth an average of 17 million times a day.}

A while later Keith arrived with a bank buddy, both three sheets to the wind having gone drinking straight after work. Keith tried to pimp myself and Martina off to his buddy (who had a girlfriend) and spent ages telling Martina how fabulous and stylish she was. (She really is in fairness).

{One guy got hit by lightning 7 times in his lifetime--he eventually committed suicide by shooting himself in 1983}

Martina, Keith and I had enough of the shouting by 1145pm and headed off to meet more people in Whelan's. Unfortunately Whelan's had the cheek to be charging people to get in which was an affront to all of us young workers. We adjourned to the Bleeding Horse.

{Electric Eels are not actually eels, they're a type of fish. The contain 650 volts but are like batteries and get run down after a few minutes}

There Martina (who had not been drinking all night) bought Ms Bones that 'one drink too many' (more Swedish cider) and there followed some table dancing, a lecture from the security guard about the table dancing, floor dancing, Keith's classic strip dance--you know-- when first the jacket comes off, then the tie, then the collar comes up and he really starts to dance.... You know it's a good night when...

{Termites contribute the most methane to the environment of any animal. And there are termite suicide bombers who protect their lairs by exploding at predators}

Hence the hangover.

Today involved the nursing of the hangover with smoothies and coffee, two Dublin Theatre festival shows (bobrauschenbergamerica and Homeland--both excellent), one hour of intense shopping that found me a dress for the ball next week (finally!), tapas and a glass of wine. Basically you're average perfect day in the big city.

Well Dublin--looks like I'm here to stay. Reckon you can be as much fun as Paris? As stylish? As cosmopoliton?
Ok maybe that's a big ask.
Just don't crush my spirit with the never-ending rat race of consumerism that is the modern urban jungle.
OK?

Follow your dreams, ladies and gentlemen, follow your dreams.

2007-09-26T13:05:00.000+01:00

Carnivals and cotton candy
Carousels and caliopes
Fortune tellers in glass cases
We will always remember these.

We're on a carousel,
a crazy carousel
and then we go around again,
above the ground again
and then around again....

Merrygorounds quickly turning, quickly turning for you and me
And the whole world madly turning, madly turning
till
you
can't
see.
(Camille O'Sullivan's opening song of Le Clique).

Well my time at the magical circus world of the floating Spiegeltent has come to end. My body and liver are happy that they're finally getting a rest but the rest of me is quite deflated; life will forever feel quite dull compared to those few weeks of sparkle and wonder.

We ran two shows a day for 16 nights in the mirrored, velvet-draped round hall. Le Clique went up at 730pm every night and a second show, be it gig, club night, cabaret etc would follow at 10pm. For staff it was a manic evening getting two shows set up usually involving completely different seating structures (if I never see those stacks of 8 wooden chairs again I'll be a happy woman) Once the second show was up and running, however, we could relax a bit, have a German sausage or chips (only food available), enjoy the show while clearing some glasses now and again.

The most enjoyable late shows for me were: Camille's cabaret night 'The Cat's Miaow' where Jack L sang without a mic playing a toy accordain, and Duke Special played the Steinway grand piano, his beautiful singing voice (with a lilt of Belfast) ringing clearly through the venue. Pirate Sounds as detailed in the previous blog, especially the rendition of Hey Day by all the musicians at the end of the evening. Seasick Steve hobo/blues man who thoroughly rocked the venue; at one point, with every soul stamping along to a tune, I genuinely felt worried for the structure of the tent. The Vertical Rhythm Club ran by my swing teacher Jessica featuring the Hi-Tones and lots of dance performances like Charlestons, Steal Dances etc was turbo enjoyable for me, we swung and lindyed and basically shook our booties till the wee hours :)

Le Clique was just magical: from Miss Behave, one of the world's few female sword swallowers to the delicious David O'Mer and his bathtub, the acrobatic (and muscley) British Gents and Hoolahoop girls, Amy G and her kazoo up the yazoo act (I'll explain over drinks some day), Camille's saucy rendition of 'In these shoes?' and throaty 'Ne Me Quitte Pas', Ireland's own Tumble Circus acts and just in the final few days the hilarious Tina C. drag country singer act--'Gimme a hell ya!' discussing her gig with Pave-erotti at the Pope's funeral "I couldn't quite understand the grief...I mean surely it was more of a pet situation than a parent situation.....Y'all were gonna get a new one!'

Captain Frodo aka the Incredible Rubber Man was my favourite. His two acts had impeccable comic timing and always caused the most jaw-dropping behaviour in the audience. First off he pushed his naturally double-jointed body through two tennis rackets (while dressed like a tennis player from the 70's) bending, contorting and dislocating on his way and later he climbs a tower of wobbling cans before sitting on the top on (size of a can of beans) and bending his two legs behind his back. He gives a speech from the top of the cans beginning 'Isn't it amazing what you can do for a living?!' and going on to urge the audience to give their own special talent (no matter how freakish) a go. "Follow your dreams, ladies and gentlemen, follow you dreams' he concluded and each time he said it, it sent tremors through me.

I watched le Clique every night and never tired of it. Once I knew the show inside out I just watched the audience; the gaspers, the sighers, the ones who hid behind their hands but most of all I loved the sea of smiles, really radiant, genuine smiles that showed people utterly lost in the moment. For me that's what theatre should do; it should take people out of themselves for even short time, make them forget their everyday worries and deadlines. It should make them laugh or gasp, and clap or cheer, not just sit there in uncomfortable silence.

I know a lot of my theatre buddies will say that's just escapism and that theatre needs to be more political and meaningful but frankly does it? People have enough misery in the lives without being depressed by tragic plays (*cough* Eugene O'Neill *cough* Sean O'Casey* *cough* Arthur Miller) on their Friday or Saturday night. When did cabaret/vaudeville/comedy become 'low art' and tragedy the only acceptable 'high art'? Make 'em laugh god damn it! Entertain them, show them something they can't see on TV or the internet. Get a reaction!

Go to the circus people and bring your kids. Embrace the magic whenever you can; life would be so boring if it weren't for circuses and carnivals, costumes and the stage. Life is a cabaret old friend, come to the cabaret....

The Amazing Tale of Hobo Bonesy

2007-09-17T11:33:00.000+01:00

'Twas the night the pirates invaded the Spiegeltent; Aye, there was Mundy and Lisa Hannigan, the Walls and Cathy Davey...a crowd of such thievin' varmints you never did see--skuttle me skippers but they took other folk's songs and played them as their own...scallywags. The real show wasn't what was on the stage but with the landlubbers who had stepped aboard the good ship Spiegeltent and embraced Pirate culture for the night...savvy? Shiver me timbers but the place was awash with Long John Black Beards, Dirty Davey Jones, Peg Leg Petes and more eye make-up then was strictly necessary (Johnny Depp has a lot to answer for).

The crew also turned buccaneer for the night; dressing in appropriate attire, swashbuckling across the deck and saying 'arrrrghhh!' quite a bit. Needless to say twas more fun than a festival at Fiddlers' Green. Wednesday Sept 19th be 'Talk Like a Pirate Day'--keelhaul your lily-livered workmates if they don't take part.

The real story of that fateful night took place after the pirates had all gone home, the decks had been swabbed, we'd drunk all the rum and circa 4am the taxis took us home. A little shaky on me timbers I made my way to the front door of younger brother's gaff (temporary residence), inserted the key and pushed. Hhhmm door a little stiff, another, harder push...still unresponsive. Actions repeated with greater force, door not budging. Baffling--could someone have bolted door from the inside?

Ring Brother. Also unresponsive. Huh--small dilemma on my hands. Send frantic text messages to brother in CAPITAL letters--might get more of a reaction.

Nothing.

Ring brother again. Still no answer.

Bastard.

Shit. Locked out at 4am, cold, need to pee, dressed like a pirate.

Right--- forget being considerate of brother's housemate--ring doorbell.

Nothing.

Ring doorbell several more times at length.

No lights, zero response.

Double shit. Housemate's at boyfriend's, brother obviously out on the lock somewhere.

Ring brother again, leave distressed voice mail.

Realisation of total lock out hits, just as a gentle mist rolling in off the Irish sea begins to tickle my skin.

Shit, shit, shit. Cold, hungry, tired and now getting wet. Can't even get into my car because the keys are inside the house...

...or can I?

Remember faulty back window broken by mate on road trip to Carlingford (Thanks Bob) Slide window down and open door, crawl into back seat--salvation at last! Car contains a pillow and mountain of cardigans due to lazy unpacking. Carefully arranged they stave off the worst of the cold...suddenly I'm looking more hobo than pirate. Rain starts to bucket down outside; this is ok, things could be worse.

Ring brother again--answer your goddamn phone!

5am rolls around, no sign of brother returning--what if he doesn't return? What if he's passed out on a friend's couch and spends the next day there? What if his housemate stays at her boyfriends'? I'll have to go to work the next day dressed as a pirate! Incapable of sleep due to anxiety, cold and mounting pressure in bladder. Curse that rum.

Contemplate peeing into an empty bottle in car. Thankfully realise co-ordination is not the best and don't attempt it. Scrabble way back out of cardigan mountain once rains stops and wind up peeing behind a big bush in the garden. And I thought being locked out was rock bottom.

Clamber back into the car, set alarm for 8am and go to sleep praying no members of public will see me but that brother or housemate will when/if they return.

Several restless hours later I emerge from the hobo-mobile and re-try the door bell. Housemate answers (Halleluja!), gives me a funny look, puts on her coat and leaves for work. She was here all along!

Tramp upstairs and find hungover brother in bed. HE was here all along! Double bastard!

Witness self in mirror; eye-liner, curly moustache and goatee still in place. Weirdest walk-of-shame ever.

Realise that I don't want to be a pirate anymore--want four walls, comfy bed with a duvet and a hot cup of tea. I am a lily-livered, landlubber lass and that's that. Now I know why it's 'talk like a pirate day' and not 'live like a pirate day'. Can't believe I have to go to work in 6 hours time.

Oh but what a cup of tea that was...blow me down but twould be a scurvy dog would say otherwise.

Dammit can't stop now. At least I'm ready for Wednesday--are you?

Update

2007-09-11T14:29:00.000+01:00

Basically I'm still homeless and only employed for another fortnight. Dublin is proving to be a difficult mistress *shakes fist at the spire*.

In the meanwhile I have great pleasure to present a guest blog by my favourite reader (ok one of my only readers)....as he gives his account of the now infamous Flee to Spraoi episode of 2007.....ladies and gentlemen Mr Declan Burke!

Flee To Spraoi – Or Weekend Lunacy in the Arse-end of Ireland

2007-09-11T14:28:00.000+01:00

By Declan Burke

What is always liable to catch people off guard about travelling from Galway to Waterford is actually how hard it is to get there. Getting to the occasionally sunny south east involves travelling through such centres of inbreeding as Oola, Boher, Cahir and Gort. Such a journey is not aided by roads that are as far from Autobahns as you can go without careering over dirt tracks and is invariably made worse when there are 5 people squashed into a car and with nothing to do but play 20 questions.

So, you may ask, what would tempt anyone to make such a journey? Well in this case it was an event dubbed the Flee to Spraoi; a weekend of merriment and intoxication that was being hosted by Jennifer (who happens among other accomplishments to be my girlfriend) in conjunction with Spraoi, a street theatre and music festival that counts as one of Waterford's few contributions to culture (after the "blah" of course, it’s pretty much a bap but don’t tell them that).

Travelling down to Waterford from Galway was Ms Bones, Peter, John, Pat and my good self while waiting for us with Jennifer was one Dangle Roughly. We'd all been friends for years through college with the exception of John, a Dub who showed up in Galway at the start of the summer with a guitar on his back, an inexhaustible supply of crazy stories and a thirst for drink. Unsurprisingly he gelled with us immediately.

The Irish summer being what it is Waterford was completely rained out when we arrived on Saturday. Confined to the house, we had to make our own fun, a task made remarkably easier when you’ve just stocked up enough beer to host a George Best memorial drinking competition. Jennifer helped matters by cooking an amazing meal, supplemented with some fine banter (there’s no bias here by the way – among many other things Jennifer is a great cook). Now that we were drunk and well fed, Pat produced his secret weapon: a game called Snatch. The best way of summing the game up is to imagine if Scrabble had been invented by a thieving bastard. The object of the game is to make words from lettered tiles upturned one at a time, but said words can be stolen by other participants to make new words. Needless to say as I was pissed and wrecked I didn’t excel and instead I retreated to bed.

Now the thing with parties involving my Jennifer is this: don’t expect a good night’s kip. Built by the American military to out party the Soviets in the 1980s, Jennifer doesn’t suffer faders to any great extent. As such John and she spent the whole night boozing and singing songs by Bob Dylan and Bright Eyes. Sleep I did not get.

Waking up more refreshed than I should have, and having a kickass fry up to boot; Dangle, Pat, your good narrator and Ms Bones headed into Waterford to enjoy some of what Spraoi had to offer. As one might imagine for a street festival given the appalling weather, a number of the activities were either cancelled or being staged indoors but one of the shows we did get to see made the trip into town worth it. The show in question was the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain, whose repertoire extended from jazz standards to rock classics to classical music and in some great places a mix of the whole three. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard “Wuthering Heights” and Handel’s Messiah on a Ukulele.

Once back at the house, it was time for that rarest of beasts: a gazebo barbeque. After consuming a number of barbecued fatted calves John made a disturbing realisation: "after this crate of beer, and the other two crates beer there's only 2 crates left!". In the panic that ensued we returned to Tesco and made off with substantial supplies to last the night. Once this was accomplished we decided that it was time to see what Spraoi could really offer. It was time to go bushing at the festival parade in true Galway style: avec Buckfast.

Buckfast, or as I prefer to call it hobofuel, is the perfect drink for these occasions. Despite making you pissed as a fart, Buckfast’s diabetes inducing sugar content gives you the energy to stay alert and active all night (whether you’re compos mentis is another question). Being a champion of the stuff, I had over the past number of months converted Ms Bones to its tender pleasures. With a bottle of the brown stuff to hand, we all trundled down to the quays to watch the parade.

Hobofuel or no hobofuel, the parade was brilliant. Having a western theme it was chocked full of every cowboy and Indian film cliché around, with salons and honky tonks, drunken sheriffs etc. Once the parade was over (and we had hidden our drunken antics from the tallest guard I’ve ever seen) we then followed the crowd to the quayside where we were treated to a first rate fireworks display while liberally imbibing alcohol. One of the few drawbacks of al fresco drinking is that you’re vulnerable to intrusion from randomers. Deciding it was a good idea to start baiting the locals, Peter and John were set upon by semi-feral children brandishing cans of silly string. That they escaped with their lives (their dignity was forfeited long ago) can only be a matter of good fortune.

Once we had regrouped, we then set off to Downes pub, a bar that is rightly considered the best in Waterford. With logic firmly put to bed, conversation hinged on smut (thanks to Dangle), Joyce’s Ulysses, Waterford hurling among many, many more all of which were fuelled by Downes unique No 9 whisky in addition to the booze we smuggled in. However, with all this craic and energy, momentum was building up that was propelling the night beyond the confines of the pub. With heading back to the house ruled out, we decided to try the Spraoi Festival Club.

However there was one small problem with this. Due to our wastrel antics by the time we got to the club, they had closed the door and weren’t letting anyone else in. For most other people this would provide a sufficient barrier to entry. Luckily for us, Jennifer considered this to be a trifling matter and after 20 minutes of arguing with the security staff we all got in.

The club turned out to be absolutely hopping once we were inside. Playing on the main stage was a band called Torann who played thumping rhythmic drums creating a sound that could best be described as rave via the medium of tribal drumming. They had the crowd, us included, dancing like savages to the extent that John felt compelled to take off his jacket and top and go searching for women. The rest of the night was spent dancing like a loon to 80’s music in a DJ lounge upstairs, manned by a local Thin Lizzy fanatic.

Getting home after the club was a less enjoyable task. Waterford' taxi fleet is not particularly large and Jennifer’s house was too far on unsteady, danced-out legs. In our attempts to hail a cab we encountered nothing but chip shop queues and in one memorable instance a couple of rent boys coming out of a park (well that’s what Dangle claimed they were). Only once Jennifer had sufficient strings pulled and had favours called in did we all finally get a taxi home.

When we woke up on Monday there was, as perhaps the American Military would say, a lot of “collateral damage”. John perhaps was the worst of our number as, due to alcohol intake that can only be described as heroic, he had fallen to sleep in a bathtub after I had dragged him off the pavement outside with no memory of the festival club (or his attempts to crack on to a certain Ms Bones ***cough cough***). However the patented Irish hangover cure of a fry up helped restore matters somewhat and the rest of the morning/afternoon was spent piecing together whatever recollections that existed of the night before.

And that was that. The Flee to Spraoi had run its course. We had learned that Waterford could be a fun place if you tried hard enough and that it was possible to survive a weekend of insanity even if your dignity (and/or immune system) didn’t.

Electric Picnicity

2007-09-04T16:20:00.000+01:00

Mayhem and chaos and wildness and tumult and general commotion has been my life for the past 10 days. Not only did I learn how to Sound Op a play in a one day crash course but I also did a job interview (yet another one), checked out 3 rooms in Dublin (not one that was habitable) and attended my first Electric Picnic in Stradbally, Co Laois.

Phew.

And for all that I'm still unemployed and homeless :(

The play was very strange and wonderful 'Biography of Bernie Ward' by Jesse Weaver being produced by Painted Filly Theatre. It was on in Players' Theatre in TCD so it was nice to be back on familiar stomping grounds. The play involved a hell of a lot of phones ringing and being answered so I had to be on the ball to make sure the sound effects lined up ie avoid "hello? *ring ring*" from happening.

The play also involved on-stage masturbation, sex-change operations, exhumation of dead bodies and a ghost. Seeing the reactions of the crowds every night was most entertaining.

We headed down to Stradbally early on friday morning avoiding all traffic and getting tents etc set up in a good location nice and early. Jennifer the wonder-organiser had a huge gazebo with her which proved a real asset as a place to sit and chat sheltered from the breeze and (fortunately infrequent) rain. I knew a tonne of people at it; old school and college buddies, people who had been to India with me and even (kept running into him) my brother.

There was a huge variety of music at it, good comedians, great food stalls (mmm sushi) and loads of great hippie weirdness like 'peace gardens', an inflatable church and random art everywhere.

My most enjoyable moments involved:
The Polyphonic Spree's joyous cover of Lithium by Nirvana,
Modest Mouse playing with Johnny Marr,
Bjork's colourful mayhem,
Duke Special's band crowd surfing at the end of his gig,
Rahzeal the wicked human beat box with the Mixmaster Mike,
Dublin Gospel Choir Sunday morning,
NUI, Galway Dram Soc's Complete Works of Shakespeare--really hilarious,
Dancing is some random Reggae hut with the girls 4am sun morning
AND
basically just being in a fun happy place with loads of mates.

I'll be back.

Meanwhile I have managed to procure some paid employment with the Dublin Fringe Festival working in the Spiegeltent for the next few weeks ( http://www.spiegeltent.net/) which should be interesting.

*Sigh* Yet more mayhem to come....

Au Revoir Galway

2007-08-25T18:14:00.000+01:00

Just back from a walk on the prom with cheeks a glow and the fesh saltly air still in my lungs. It might be my last sojourn to the prom for a while and that dejects me somewhat. The prom is my salvation from the mayhem of life; the air is better than any drug, the sounds of the water and cries of the seagulls are soothing, the people are civilised and all of life is in harmony there. The sea is such a soothing presence; I don't know how people live in-land or (god forbid) in landlocked countries. I, for one, could never live too far from the sea.

Luckily my next port of call is also beside the sea. I hate to announce but I'm not going to Paris afterall (just yet)--I'm moving to dear, dirty Dublin at least for a little while. I'm doing interviews with several places and am on the hunt for a place to live (if you happen to know of a room close to the city centre for 400eur let me know!)

This week I'm helping out with a friend's play in Players' Theatre in TCD (The Biography of Bernie Ward by Painted Filly Theatre--go see it!) and at the weekend I'm off to Electric Picnic for the last great session of the summer. You know what? I'm glad it's almost over; it was a great summer but I think I've had enough of festivals (Yes you can have too much of a good thing). I want to get stuck into a new job, get some routine back and just stay in one spot for a while.

And so to Dublin for phase 2 of the Great Career Break Adventure of 2007. Job and accommodation to follow...

Fringe Benefits

2007-08-21T13:30:00.001+01:00

"Jihad--The Musical"
"Macbath on a Bouncy Castle"
"Dickens--Unplugged"
"Tony! The Blair Musical"
"A (Gay Disabled Transexual) Love Story Told to a Ticket Inspector at Alton Towers"

Well it's five days in and I'm taking a morning off shows to come up for air. If you locked yourself away with an espresso machine filled with LSD you still couldn't come up with show titles to match those appearing at this year's Edinburgh Fringe. With your potential audience being bombarded at every corner you need something, well, dramatic to grab their attention. Shock tactics a go go.

So far I've seen stand-up comedy, sketch comedy, physical theatre, acrobatics, one-woman shows, off-beat obscure films and one show involving a french troup who played with home-made instruments for an hour. Basically I'm in heaven.

Best stuff so far--
Maeve Higgins (stand up)****,
Rebecca Drysdale (American lesbian sketch comedy)****,
Traces (acrobatic theatre--cirque de soleil style) ***** (Why can't all modern dance be this entertaining?)
Dai -Enough (One Woman Show set in Tel Aviv cafe moments before a suicide bomber strikes)****

Still to come--Andrew Maxwell, Dickens Unplugged and much more.... I might move here.

As for tales from A & E at Edinburgh's hospitals...well buy me a pint and I might tell you all the gory details.

2007-08-21T13:23:00.001+01:00

Lainey says Relax!

2007-08-15T23:45:00.000+01:00

I'm off to Edinburgh tomorrow for a week for Fringe festival fun.
(Aside: I may be getting a little sick of festivals--why are humans not able to have fun all the time?? Why do we need to feel like we've earned it?)

The Big Sister and fiancee (Edin-burger) have finally bought a flat there so with a place to stay and ridiculously cheap flights from Shannon the time is finally nigh to bear witness to The Festival. We've booked tickets for a pile of new comedians, a French-Canadian circus act, a play set in a Tel Aviv cafe moments before a suicide bomb goes off and a Spanish film about Kleinfelter Syndrome.
Ya.
Bring on the mood swings.

Helping me get in the mood for all things Scottish are the Big Sis's fiancee's family (Rosses) who flew in last night. His parents and two grannies come to Galway quite regularly now, although probably not quite so often as my folks visit Scotland. (Lucky for my Dad that my sister moved to the region with the highest concentration of great golf courses in the UK; he still hasn't stopped smiling since he witnessed Padraig Harrington lift the Claret Jug in July.)

Granny Richie (Cathleen) and Granny Ross (Alice) are great craic. They get on far better than in-laws rightly should and spend so much time together they actually finish each other's sentences. Well, in general, Alice tells the stories and Cathleen interjects with juicy details and raucous cackles of laughter. They actually say stuff like "Ooh dearie me".
I think I prefer them to my own family.

We spent the day visiting the church and hotel for the wedding (which isn't happening till July 09....yes 09!) debating the merits of the yellow walls of the church and whether they'd be able to pull off a Scottish ceili on Glenlo Abbey's small dance floor. It's our first family wedding and their last one so the pressure's mounting. (So glad I'm a middle child.)

Fortunately the Rosses are pretty easy-going and relaxed about preparations. a good counter-point to our control freak mother who will be worrying about the shade of lipstick on the bridesmaids as my sister says her vows.
Dammit I'm a bridesmaid.

I'm Chief Bridesmaid!

It's two year's away and I can already sense the tears, arguments and accusations.

Note to self--July 09--buy Valium, in bulk.

Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows....

2007-08-13T18:13:00.000+01:00

It worked!

I demanded sunshine and we got it. I can now be officially classified as a deity. Start praying to me plebs.

We just had a bee-utiful sunny day in Salthill (Don't care about the rest of Ireland). At 2pm I went for a run from Knocknacarra, down to the shore behind the golf club, whole length of the prom and back :)
Saw a fantabulous Pirates of the Carribbean style ship sail into the bay and a lot of smiley, happy people.

Later I came back to Ladies beach armed with a bikini and had a bracing swim in the cold, clear, wavey Atlantic Ocean. It was agony for about 5 minutes and then, sheer heaven. I saw Marie Joyce drying off as I went in. It's thanks to her that I (and half of Galway) can swim. She's one of those invincible Galwawegians that swims in the Bay all year round. I want to be like her when I grow up.

Met Eireann have just predicted a crazy storm over Ireland tonight or tomorrow. I don't care; I can still feel sand in between my toes and the glow of sun on my skin.

Rain Drain

2007-08-13T12:21:00.000+01:00

“Into each life some rain must fall.”

Longfellow was right but it's pretty obvious that he wasn't saying this after enduring a summer like the one we've just had. Who can be philosophical about needing 'rain to get a rainbow' after the wettest summer in Irish recorded history?

I've tried to get on with it; going swimming in the pool rather than the sea, keeping occupied with trips to the cinema and theatre etc. I've run out for a walk on the prom between showers (bringing a mac with me just to be sure).

But I've had enough! I want sunshine!

NOW!

Observation

2007-08-10T00:34:00.001+01:00

The Cathedral has CCTV and an alarm....

Why does this disturb me?

Flee to Spraoi

2007-08-06T22:46:00.000+01:00

Just back from a crazy weekend in Waterford--it rained non-stop (moreorless) but that didn't stop us enjoying the street theatre on offer, a great barbecue, the Yee-Haw! Parade and fireworks.......fair play to Irish people for letting the rain stop nothing.

I'm severely sleep deprived (yet another festival club was involved) so won't give you the details just yet--check out these vids of the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain, by far the stand out show at Spraoi--who knew how much fun Ukuleles were?!

Storm's a comin'

2007-07-29T18:49:00.000+01:00

Batten down the hatches! Lock up your daughters, stock up on reserve livers...
The Races are about to begin.

Last night in Galway marked the end of the Arts Festival (yes I know it officially ends today but for me it ended yesterday) and the beginning of Race fever in the city. Hotels and B & Bs saw the hippies and the artists check out and the over-groomed, bulging-walleted Race-goers arrive.

You could feel the atmosphere of the town change last night--the last of the street theatre clashed with the extreme drunkenness on Shop st. I was stewarding for the Circumstancia fire-breathing devils and had to suppress smirks as they deliberately targeted the blond, fake-tanned turbo women (imported from Dublin for Race week I think) for their own personal fire shows. Two unsuspecting, skimpily-attired women gossiping in a shop doorway got trapped as the devils sprayed paraffin in a cross on the ground and set it alight. Talk about a baptism of fire--welcome to Galway ladies!

As I left the mayhem of Shop St behind to head to the Rowing club I spied two women on their way to CPs wearing ridiculously little. One girl was in an orange dress that was backless and ended at the top of her thighs. Two old ladies walking in front of me verbalised my exact thoughts:
Lady 1: Did ya see that orange dress?
Lady 2: That's something else
Lady 1: I think they're all on drugs....

The craic in the Rowing Club last night was truly mighty. "Mental wildness" according to Declan. Throughout the festival the Rowing club has been an excellent venue for post-show chat and banter. The walls were decorated with posters and swathes of coloured material, candles and fairy lights gave the place a cabaret feel and the music whether live or DJed was always excellent. Last night saw the Romanian Gypsy band Taraf de Haïdouks rock the club (rock is the wrong word but, man, they had us dancing and stamping like mad yokes).

As the clocks struck a quarter to four and the security made a final push to get everyone to leave, the band struck up yet another impromptu session at the door. I have no idea what they were singing about but I'm pretty sure it was to do with that feeling you get when you've something to celebrate, a beer in your hand, there's a kick-ass tune blasting out, you're exactly where you want to be and you don't want to go home.

C'est beau la vie.

Everyone Hates a Critic

2007-07-27T10:57:00.000+01:00

Danced my socks off at the Spanish Arch Hotel and later the Rowing club last night.

Twas all fine apart from Pat McCabe giving me dirty looks.

Everytime I looked across the room I somehow caught his eye and he was never smiling - QED - he knows about the blog and is coming to hunt me down....

Note to self: take less paranoia tablets before becoming proper theatre critic.

Get Your Arts On

2007-07-26T17:36:00.001+01:00

Further reviews:

Love and Other Disguises- St Nicholas' Church- (Chrysalis/Catastrophe) Site-specific Dance/Melodrama/Farce thingy

I've seen St Nick's used for lots of events--music (excellent), debate (disastrous) and even religious type events (crazy huh?) but this was definitely the most resourceful use of the space I've ever seen. Scene 1 outside in the graveyard, scene 2 beside the sacristy, scene 3 at the altar...well you get the picture.
Light, over-the-top, comic scenes interspersed with dance interludes set to songs by Mundy might seem an odd mix but it does work. I much prefer modern dance when there's a narrative attached. Very enjoyable, if not very deep (***)

Get Your War On - Town Hall-(Rude Mechanicals) OHP/Comedy/Agit-Prop/Theatre (Is nothing just one category any more?)

Web comics on stage? (Sample here http://www.mnftiu.cc/mnftiu.cc/war.html ) This is the 21st century alright.
This was a snappy, clever, bitterly sarcastic theatrical show on the topic of the Bush Administration's actions post 9/11. The performers display amazing dexterity and innovation in their use of over head projectors and say 'fuck'........a lot. Politicians are mocked, corruption is denounced, incompetence is highlighted and the line of taste is crossed more than once.
While some of the audience were offended by the Terri Schiavo sketch - an actor dressed as a feeding tube discusses his annyoance at not being used for a more fruitful purpose (oh yes) I quite enjoyed their shock tactics.
While they force their message down the throats of their audience (thankfully not using feeding tubes) they entertain throughout. A highlight of the festival so far. (****)

Autobahn - 4 cars outside Galway Arts Centre, Nun's Island - (Galway Youth Theatre) - Intimate Theatre.

Ever seen theatre so close you can count nostril hairs? Well that's what it's like when the audience occupy the back seat and the actors the front. Autobahn consisted of four 20 minute shows set in cars and each had the effect of a good short story--drawing you in instantly, keeping you curious and then building to a unexpected crunching twist at the end.
I vote as follows- Most creepy - Road trip, Most squirmy - Bench Seat, Most effective - Funny, Most funny - Long Division. They're all good, however, with great performances (to pick out just a few) from Orla Donnelly, Jimi McDonnell, Katherine Denning and Sean O Meallaigh (hope they're the right names--there's different actors for each show). A really slick show from a Youth theatre group. (****)

But what did you think? Comments, complaints, disagreements (ahem..... Declan), abuse of Declan (ahem... Gary) most welcome.

Particularly in the Arts Festival.

2007-07-24T22:59:00.000+01:00

Wangst 1 (wängkst) Pronunciation Key
n. Self-indulgent anxiety.

Wangst--the bane of every Arts Festival has finally been given verbal form. Thank you Julian Gough for an entirely unpretentious and entertaining reading, and for my new word which could be useful in discussions in the Arts Festival Club of an evening. Why is it that so much of literature although written by middle-class people in comfortable social situations is about war, death, genocide, disease, tragedy, more death and people generally feeling miserable?? Why is tragedy 'high art' and comedy 'low art'? Too much wangst, not enough goddamn entertainment.

Ok I'm being slightly unfair; there have been some good shows in the Festival this year and for the record I'm going to do some mini-reviews here. Note: this may not interest non-festival goers but hell you might learn something.
Shows will be categorised, starred out of 5 and if wangst-ridden will receive either a small 'w' or big 'W" relative to how much wangst was present.

Stewart Lee @ Roisin Dubh---Stand-up comedy.
Quite funny, with some interesting musings but not mind-blowing. (***)

Projector of Dreams @ BOI Theatre, NUI, Galway. Modern Dance/Installation thingy
Contained some beautiful moments involving Yann Tiersen-esque music and a few tracks from Astral Weeks combined with some good dance and projector imagery.....but overall left me cold--no cohesion. One section involves two guys dancing with no music--seriously--is it dance if there's no music?? (**w)

The Revenant @ Druid (by Pat McCabe) -Theatre
A one-man show (more or less) which delves into the mind of the Francie Brady character from The Butcher Boy (TBB) except older, homeless and living with the consequences of his actions. It was similar to TBB except lacking the humour and character interaction that made TBB great. I thought it was slow, repetitive, boring and utterly wangst-ridden. Of course the rest of the audience were exclaiming how fantastic it was as they left and it was one of the first shows to completely sell out--so what do I know? (*W)

Divine Peaches @ King's Head Ruby Room - Lunchtime comedy theatre show
Was expecting the worst with this as it had been trashed by early reviewers but to be honest I quite enjoyed it. It was silly fun that didn't challenge the brain but frankly it did exactly what it said on the tin; the tale of the rise and fall of an 80s drag queen with cheesey music to accompany it. Highlight was definitely the routine to Ruth Wallis' 'You Gotta Have Boobs'
You've gotta have boobs
If you want to impress tycoons and rubes
You need boobs to fill out a sweater
You need 2 but 3 might be better
(***)

Julian Gough @ Radisson - Reading
Hugely entertaining reading of 'The Orphan and the Mob' involving a long introduction about life, literature and the reason for his fancy scarf - 'writers must look different- or else ordinary people might talk to them...' Seemingly to become a writer you have to go on the dole for ten years...hhmmmm. I had to buy the new novel (Jude: Level 1) when I heard Pat Sheeran was a 'yoda-like' character in it. Will read and report back. (****)

Particularly in the Heartland @ Town Hall - Theatre
Hhhmmmm this is almost uncategorisable--set in Kansas, three Jesus-lovin' kids lose their parents in a tornado and three random strangers separately turn up at their door...fairly normal so far...except that the three strangers include Dorothy a plane crash survivor, Tracy-Jo, a pregnant girl who doesn't seem to know how she ended up that way and finally Bobbie Kennedy. Yes Robert F Kennedy, despite being dead (and the other characters knowing this), makes up the last member of this motley crew. It's impressionistic, at times surreal but also thought-provoking and hilarious throughout. Front row audience members got to hurl eggs at one cast member and a short q and a session in the middle with characters also featured.
Basically I loved it and can't understand negative reaction of fellow theatre-fan Declan who saw it night before. Yes it did seem like a drama workshop at times and putting the spotlight on the audience can be disconcerting but the audience I was in was totally up for it, as was I. Good show. (****)

Cramming in lots more over the next few days--will there be a 5 star show???
Tune in at the weekend to find out--same Bones time, same Bones channel....

Drunk in a Bookshop

2007-07-21T22:30:00.000+01:00

Well after a week of modern dance, site specific street theatre, audio-visual installations and other 'meaningful' Orts Festival delights it was time, yesterday, for some light entertainment. Some mass-produced, lowest common denominator, part-of-the crowd entertainment.....no not Die Hard 4.0 (that I saw last week)
....no at midnight on the 20th to the 21st July it was time for Harry Potter VII - The Deathly Hallows (oooooohhhhhh)

I first caught 'JK Rowling-ophilia' back in 2003. I was doing my MPhil in Trinity with some Potter-philes over studying from the States. Natalee and Ruth had been hooked from the start and their incessant debate, argument and speculation on the topic drew me in. I knew it had gotten serious when we spent the entire day after the Trinity Ball lazing around Nat's flat each taking turns reading aloud from a HP in as silly a range of accents as we could muster with our monster hangovers. (It was an MPhil in Theatre studies and, yes, we were all drama queens).

By 2005 I was a confirmed addict pre-ordering the latest book (The Half Blood Prince) in a bookshop in New Delhi and reading it in it's entirety on a weekend trip to Agra, home of one the recently voted 7 Wonders of the World, the Taj Mahal. There are, in fact, pictures of me sitting in a cubby in the side of the Taj reading it quite oblivious to the wonder of Mughal architecture around me. Well I had to see if Ron and Hermione would get together!

I find it hard to describe what's so compelling about the Harry Potter series. Rowling is no Proust (not that I've actually read Proust). She writes in very simple, straightforward language and repeats her metaphors ad nauseum but what she does do well is create vivid characters in a fascinating alternative universe. I think she has a good understanding of the human condition and human relationships and the later books contain some biting satire on Blair's Britain; media spin, class divisions, racism etc.

What has really made the HP series absorbing, however, has been the sheer success and hype that accompanied it. Being able to discuss your latest read with pretty much everyone is a real thrill. Reading in general is such a solitary occupation. So many times I've finished a book dying to discuss the issues raised with someone, anyone, but by the time someone else has read your recommendation (if they bother) you've forgotten whatever it was you wanted to talk about. I loved the midnight openings and the media hype that accompanied these books. I hope the public imagination can get caught like this again; not to make some other author a billionaire but to get people reading and talking about reading.

Last night the atmosphere on Shop St in Galway was electric; witches and ghouls ambled about, parents desperately tried to control ridiculously excited kids. I saw home-made "Harry is a horcrux' t-shirts, Hogwarts hoodies and teenagers on the summer holidays wearing school uniforms proud as punch. Eason's was a bit too crazy; queue went around the block several times so I chose to patronise Dubray Books for my copy.

Declan (reluctant companion and HP lookalike) and I had been on a bit of pub crawl for the evening taking in The Crane, O Connell's and Rowing Club (arts fest hangout) so we were nicely tipsy by 1am. In the queue we chatted to some excited Americans and soaked up the general mayhem of surroundings. Once the queue had entered the shop Declan perused some Pablo Neruda and Bukowski (Note to general public: do not bring Declan to a bookshop while drunk) and antagonised the crowd saying stuff like "Hermione dies'. I was lucky to get him out of there without at least a Crucio Curse being aimed at him. Clutching my very own copy (kid's cover--adult covers are for Muggles) and smiling from ear to ear I went home ready to get stuck in for the last time.

Don't worry-there'll be no plot spoilers here but having finished it a few hours ago I will say that it's a very satisfying conclusion to the series. Well done JK Rowling-you succeeded (probably unintentionally) in making reading a hobby for the many as opposed to the few and you made reading a shared experience between young and old alike. May you live a long and curse free life!

The Modest Adventures of La Belle Ms. Bones

2007-07-16T13:14:00.000+01:00

There has been much activity in the Ms Bones camp over the weekend what with the being filmed for RTE news, the Film Fleadh, parade rehearsal and a visit to see the exquisitely funny David O'Doherty at the Comedy Club. Killer joke:
Q: Who are the most decent people in the hospital?
A: The ultrasound people.

But let me start at the beginning.... Thursday's interview in Dublin went well, I think. The Suas people kept me chatting for over 40 minutes and didn't call security to have me removed so I reckon I sufficiently managed to disguise my wanton laziness to them.

I had travelled up to Dublin the previous night for a bit of swing dancing (had already forgotten all my wonderful new moves from Sweden) and as the interview wasn't till 3pm was in no particular rush in the morning. I primped and preened for a good 2 hours and was completely ready to go by midday; punctuality drilled in by control freak mother still as strong as ever.

I decided, since I hadn't done it already, to maybe research this job a bit and the people who'd be interviewing me. I duly went online, found the website and went straight to the staff section. No. 1 interviewer didn't look familiar and had only been with the organisation a short period of time. No. 2 interviewer on the other hand I did recognise. Where had I seen that face before? Was she on the programme when I had done it in 2005? No, somewhere else then...

The cold hand of realisation slowly settled on my shoulder. Oh dear.

That party.

The Suas crowd had arrived late. I had started drinking early. I couldn't remember talking to her but I had definitely been introduced. Idiot Ms Bones! Flash back after flash back hit me—the piggy back rides up and down the stairs, the iron stomach contest in the kitchen. This woman's only experience of me is at my absolute worst. Pink-cheeked with mortification I realised it was time to go. There was only one way to get through this: set charm and bullshit levels all the way up to 11 and never stop smiling. Second round interviews are in August—it'll be a miracle if I get one.

That evening I drove to Galway with a friend who works in Filmbase. Five lucky filmbasers were getting to stay at the Ms Bones' family spare student house for the duration of the Fleadh. The phone rang en route and my secretary took the call.
“Would Ms Bones like to help Macnas out by doing a shoot for RTE the following morning?”
“Um....”
“She'd be delighted. 9am call for make-up and costume? She'll be there.”
“Um...”
At noon the following day I'm dancing around Quay St in a bright pink dress, full Commedia Del Arte style make-up, 1940's hair-do as Jim Fahy stands in front of a camera near-by doing his annual 'Isn't Galway great?!' report. Joe O'Shaughnessy is snapping away, the Sunday Independent make us pose with flowers and take what feels like a million different shots. I've a whole new respect for models and performers; bloody hard work keeping a smile on your face for hours.

No sign of it on the news that evening – phew! I spend the weekend volunteering at the Fleadh, spotting celebs, sneaking into movies, drinking down the Rowing Club. After Parade rehearsals on Sunday I finally make it home for a home cooked meal with the parents, sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law. A delicious roast and mountains of mashed spuds is consumed in seconds and we all kick back with tea and dessert. The telly is flicked on to catch the sports results.

“The Galway Arts Festival kicks off tomorrow with it's usual pomp and ceremony.....” Aghhhhh! There I am lindy hopping outside Neachtains.
“Jim Fahy. RTE News. Galway”. Cut to my dance partner and I dipping right in front of the camera. The whole family ,in a burst of uncharacteristic unanimity, explode laughing and don't stop till well after the weather forecast.
Thanks a lot guys.*

For anyone else who'd like to be similarly entertained the Macnas Parade takes place in Galway city on Sunday 22nd July at around 3pm.

*See it for yourself here: http://www.rte.ie/news/2007/0715/6news_av.html Although they've cut out our dip at the end which was in the original report :(

Aaaahhhhhh!

2007-07-11T10:09:00.000+01:00

Job interview tomorrow; first one in 3 years.

*nervous*

Hopefully it won't go as bad as some of these -->

Too tired, point format

2007-07-07T22:15:00.000+01:00

* Yawn

* Somehow I got back to Ireland--thank you to the guys for leading me through the various airports today.

* Not much sleep, lots of dancing.

* Cabaret Night - Best sketches (as voted for and selected by, well, me):
- I'm a Lindy Hop and I'm ok - I sleep all day and I dance all night....
- Solo Charleston guy
- Guy who played Chopin piece with each hand playing a different tempo--yowza.

* One of our number braved the stage and pulled off a sketch involving Vikings and Pirates (pretty good combination you'll find)....sadly all we choose to remember was his complete failure to do the Shim Sham with the rest of the performers at the end of the show. Shim Shame.

* Extra big yawn.

* Last night--we partied like it was 1982 - lots of florescent lycra, short shorts and dancing, dancing, dancing.
God bless the Blue Moon Cafe's Brownies--keep you going when your body's about to give up. I reckon the secret ingredient is adrenaline or maybe benzedrine.

* Did I mention I'm tired?

* Wait it's over? But I just got here!

* Some old cabaret acts from Herrang in the vid section for your perusal. Photos are up on Facebook.

* Bed now.

The Blues - Herrang Style

2007-07-04T14:31:00.000+01:00

Well I've reached the half-way point of my week at swinging summer camp in Sweden; the legs ache, the sleep deprivation has hit chronic levels, whenever I'm not actually listening to jazz I still hear it ringing in the music chambers of my brain....
Gee whiz this is fun!

There's dancing all night, every night here at Herrang and last night was the first of the theme nights--Blues Night. After 3 days of manic, bouncing and leaping Lindy Hop a night of slow, gentle swaying to the sorrowful tones of Billie Holiday and Edith Piaf was just what Dr Rhythm ordered.

How to describe Blues dancing—hhhhmmmm I have to quote the Shangri-las for this one—
“Is he a good dancer?”
“Whaddaya mean is he a good dancer?”
“Well- how does he dance?”
“Close”.
Basically it’s like grinding only slower and marginally more dignified. At first I was a little prudish (that Catholic upbringing rears its head when you least expect it) but after one or two numbers I was hooked. It's easy really; you rest your head on your partner's shoulder and drift along wherever he brings you.

Now if only I can convince myself to brave a proper Swedish Sauna.

Being in an international dance camp I didn't think I'd get exposed to much Swedish culture but in fact the Swedes thoroughly dominate all proceedings. A damn good thing too - they're fantastically well organised, have a great sense of humour but are quite laid back in attitude also.

They really are comfortable with nudity too; on the beach, in the communal showers and in the sauna (so I hear) nobody takes a blind bit of notice of whether one is wearing clothes or not. I never realised how prudish Ireland still is but we really do have issues with our bodies still.

And so I run out of time yet again (it's in short supply here)--the video up now is a 1950 recording of the amazing Tip, Tap and Toe that just have to be seen to be believed.

Gotta dance!

Boom-Herrang!

2007-07-02T22:05:00.000+01:00

From the Savoy Ballroom drift the bluesy tones of Louis Armstrong, from the Alahambra the voice of a Lindy Hop teacher: "a 5, a 6, a 5,6,7,8; kick ball change Shorty George, Susie Q and break!".

It's 11pm and still bright out; people are still attending dance classes and in the next hour the dance halls will fill for social dancing till dawn (3am) and well after.

It's hard to describe Herrang Dance Camp because there's not alot to which I can compare it. It's a summer camp in a campsite by the sea with mosquitoes, cold showers and a very Swedish sauna. It's also the biggest centre for swing, jazz and boogie-woogie dancing in the world with the only, truly American art form blasting from speakers at every location. There are nightly meetings that remind me of being a teenager in the Gaeltacht, an ice-cream parlour and a 24 hour bar, that definitely doesn't remind me of Connemara.

Basically it's Kellerman's from Dirty Dancing but without the rich twits getting in the way of the dancing. There's even a Patrick Swayze here--Ricard from Stockholm--wait till you see the pictures--we think he even cultivates the hair style on purpose.

Also there's a 14 year kid from Switzerland attending classes called Satchmo and, no, it's not a nickname.

More later in the week.

La Vie en Rose a Galway

2007-06-26T16:00:00.000+01:00

So my fantastic new blog was meant to be totally anonymous and abstract and thought-provoking but frankly I've already run out of ideas so I think I'll just write about what's happening in my life right now....

I'm back living in Galway and, aside from the weather, it's great. Enjoying, as I am, ridiculously long secondary teacher holidays I've lots of free time for meeting people for coffee, lunch, sushi, whatever's going really. The streets buzz with buskers, shoppers, loungers and posers; everyone's open and friendly and already I've signed up to volunteer at all the festivals, perform in the Macnas parade and have been made the City Arts Officer (Ok I'm kidding in that last part-note to self-don't joke about the dream job). It's so different to Drogheda I can't even begin to explain to Galway people just how much of a contrast there is.

I lived in Drogheda for 3 years and when I first moved there I emailed every theatre company and arts group volunteering to get involved--nobody ever took me up. The only professional theatre company there does all it's rehearsals in Dublin because that's where the actors live. It's a thriving, developing town but it has no soul; at least not one I could grasp.* If you said you were from Galway to a Drogheda person they'd look at you sideways wondering what could have brought you there; in Galway if you meet a person from Timbuktu at a party you're a) not surprised and b)usually somehow related to them......They came to study for a semester 5 years ago and wound up staying, getting married and now have an Irish accent. I don't know what it is that makes one town so different from another but I'm really questioning whether I could/should ever go back to Drogheda, job or no job.

In the meanwhile my swing dancing is coming along nicely and I'm keenly looking forward to my upcoming trip to Swing Camp in Sweden. Yes you heard me, swing camp. In Sweden. Joke and snigger all you like but I'm going, I'm going to dance many pairs of socks off and meet many good-looking men (with rhythm) some of whom might even be straight. Herrang is a tiny village somewhere near Stockholm that's only claim to fame is a once a year one month long Dance Camp featuring lessons in Lindy Hop, Boogie-Woogie, Balboa, Jazz steps - basically it's the world's biggest Swing Dance Camp and since it was founded in 1982 it's expanded enormously. This year being the 25th Anniversary it's attracting massive crowds from all over the world esp America, Australia and Europe. The legendary Frankie Manning (aged 92) will be along as a teacher. Check out the video bar to the right to see him in action.

Next report from Herrang Home for Loony Lindy-Hoppers :)

*Before all Drogheda people write in to correct me let me amend by saying that there were elements of Drogheda I loved: Clarke's Bar, Carberry's, Monk's cafe, the crazy back lanes and steps to secret valleys, the Drogheda sense of humour, the accent (Shakes-pee-yur...you haven't lived till you've heard Macbeth in a Louth accent), Bettystown strand. If you've grown up in Drogheda it's probably a great place to live but it's a hard place to crack into as an outsider.

Ceci n'est pas un cliche

2007-05-12T04:59:00.000+01:00

"What happens to order?
It is restored,
Alternatively, in what does the meeting break up?
Disorder.
What does the meeting do in disorder?
Breaks up,
In the what direction does the meeting break in disorder?
Up!
In what direction should I shut?
Up!"
(Myles Na gCopaleen Catechism of Cliché)

Can cliche be avoided? Can we speak in words that that are ever truly our own or are we interminably trapped by the linguistic programming that inundates us from birth? Would we be better writers if we never read anything?

I fancy myself as a bit of a writer (don't we all?). One whose writings are largely confined to online posting, witty emails to friends and angsty journal entries that usually start 'Gosh I haven't written in ages...' As an ecrivain extraordinaire I'm continually frustrated with my thorough lack of originality and inability to escape the cliche. I realise that Shakespeare didn't pen a single original tale so it's not subject matter I'm worried about. He did have a unique turn of phrase however, one that means we still force his words down the throats of impressionable teenagers in every school in the English-speaking world. I would like (if nothing more) to write something that someone else would like to say, out loud, to someone else even once. To somehow put some words together in a new pattern that would both, sound nice and, maybe, give comfort, inspiration, hope....oh christ I'm a walking cliche. Help!

Scrap that. What I want is to express in words those moments in life (however few) when one really experiences beauty, truth, happiness. I know it's possible to do this--I've read Robert Frost! and William Goldman and Paul Auster and Harper Lee and Kurt Vonnegut! It can be done. And yet, whenever I sit down to write, my words turn into a song and dance of toeing the line, failing to grab the bull by the horns and that's only the tip of the iceberg! I sound like my mother for chrissakes...

I'm beginning to think that the only way of freeing oneself from the baggage of cliche is to write in a foreign language. Beckett did that and some of his stuff was ....um....interesting. You'd live forever outside of the comfort zone, never knowing if you're truly saying what you think you're saying but you really would be plowing your own furrow (oh God will I never be free?!). Forgive the following but I see it as stepping off the 'beaten path'. The beaten path is smooth, can be trusted to bring you to a location that many people have gone to before and won't have any hidden surprises. Leaving this path is hard work - every step is uncertain, the path is uneven and more likely to trip you up, and you can be guaranteed there will be lots that is unexpected along the way. It's 100% your path but you will curse it often.

I guess my question is - is it worth it? Or is cliche maybe not the demonic enemy I've made it out to be?

Answers on a postcard....