You know when you snooze in the morning between alarms, and you have these really vivid dreams? I dreamed I was in Barcelona waiting for a flight back to Dublin. Like last week, it had been delayed and I felt exhausted at the prospect of waiting in the airport, the flight itself, and so on.
Then I woke up and realised I was at home. Honestly, it was one of the happiest moments of my life.
Today is very quiet. Of course it’s Good Friday, which means that in Ireland we have to deal with the fact that the pubs are closed. Today and Christmas Day are the only two days of the year when that happens. I think most people understand the latter, but the country today will be flooded with tourists here for Easter, keen to enjoy some ‘crack’ in those famous Irish pubs only to find them closed.
Don’t let them fool you with this ‘craic’ thing, by the way. It’s actual ‘crack’, a little bit is dissolved in each pint which is what makes every one so happy all the damn time, and why we keep drinking as long as we do. Locals aren’t that affected by the closure as we all went to the supermarkets and off-licences yesterday and bought all the booze. I mean all of it. Shopping trolleys full of it.
So, if you’re here from abroad and you’re looking for a drink, just call into somebody’s house. They have loads to spare. Seriously. If they tell you they don’t, they’re either a liar or you’ve called to the door of the last Pioneer in Ireland.
Does that reference work globally? A pioneer in Ireland is not the first person to discover a place or something new, it’s Catholic abstinence association, and they wear pins to show they’re pioneers. I remember in school we were all encouraged to join which was really quite amusing as we’d all put our money together to buy two flagons of Linden Village which we were going to drink over in Bushy Park and then walk around before getting chips and one of the lads would probably get a bit sick down his front because we were 15.
They did try and warn us of the dangers of alcohol, to be fair. Like when they told us making the transition from junior to senior school would see us become immediate targets for drug dealers. Honestly, one of the great disappointments of my life was the fact that not once after I started in senior school were drug dealing types lurking outside the gates, saying ‘Pssst, hey kid, want some DRUGS?’.
In fact, not once in my entire life has that happened. Maybe I just have one of those faces that drug dealers think ‘Oh well he doesn’t look like he wants any drugs at all, I’m simply not going to bother’. But having steeled myself to the imminent threat of these people knowing I was now just 6 school years away from doing my Leaving Cert, it was profoundly disappointing to realise that this knowledge didn’t affect people who sold drugs in any way.
They were busy selling drugs to people who wanted drugs and it turns out their main pitches weren’t, in fact, just outside a Carmelite school in a leafy Dublin suburb. Oh well, I had to amuse myself with Football Manager on the ZX Spectrum ©K.J.TOMS which I played for hours and hours and hours without any drugs at all except for biscuits and and cups of tea. Ginger nuts dunked almost all the way in. That’s a biscuit, for those of you with warped minds.
Simpler times, folks, let me tell you. And if you fancy whiling away your day with some classic 8-bit, rubber-keyed video gaming, then check out this site which has Football Manager and just about every other Spectrum game on there.
You’re welcome. And I’m not sorry that workplace productivity has plummeted today, everyone should have a day off anyway.
Which is pretty much what I’m going to do. As it’s an Interlull, there’s no Arsecast, but if you want something to listen to, check out my other podcast here, it’s a bit Irish, obviously, but there might be something in the episode list you like (maybe if you’re into podcasts you might dig the Marc Maron chat).
Till tomorrow.
