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.
2 comments:
Ah Race Week, where the women are orange and the men end up in Supermacs at half three with a burger stuck to the side of their face.
Don't have the mental capacity to sum up how mental Ladies Day was yesterday.
Pretty mental though.
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