Miles per hour and beats per minute.

*long winded ramble*

For the second weekend in a row I find myself having to make a long journey without a travelling companion. Last week dumb and dumber bailed asleep on me from Galway and this week the Queen of Sheba decides the only way she could avoid getting sick every 3 minutes was to lie in the back asleep.

With that in Mind and just like a mafia movie I packed Jane into the back seat of the car with rosary beads, some holy water,a picture of padre pio and a Dunnes bag to get sick in. It was time to put on the sunglasses and focus on the best part of Dublin which is the road to Cork.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm an awful slow driver and the lads in work christened me Tommy out of sminky shorts which is better than my last name of "driving miss daisy".

We just got the news that our family car is for the scrap heap at home which has emotions running high and has Jane sobbing away in the back but I think that's more to do with the rats from the booze. I hear a cry of "whyyyy" and also something about getting a new car which i ignore.She is a light weight these days.

I decide my old friend I-pod is the only man for the long road and i'll drive faster and more miles per hour with more beats per minute. I stick on a playlist called miscellaneous which is for songs that get downloaded so I can listen later.Its amazing the effect music has on us and in this case on the journey home.

First up was Johnny cash with "hurt".It starts to rain as if the weather knows Johnny is on. I immediately cry and look out the windscreen into the distance wondering where my life is going,what the future holds, will I live til I'm 90 or just another 3 years?Who would miss me, who would be there at the end?The  car is only doing 50mph. I'm hurting inside now so skip to the next song as I get overtaken by two 70 year old grannies on the motorway. I think one of them even flipped the bird.

Next up is Gilbert O'Sullivan with "Clair". I used to sing this with "Jane" in it instead of Clair so now I start to think of the pity snoring in the back. We were just at a Robbie Williams concert which was a Mother's Day present. I had asked earlier what I was getting for Father's Day and was told I'd be getting something alright. This  obviously means I'm getting nothing or else she will say I will be spoiled for the day which in turn means I won't have to make breakfast and she will go back to bed after she makes me tea and toast.I'll say I thought I was getting spoiled and she will say "cry me a river poindexter" as she goes back to bed.  That's the end of Gilbert anyway!

I hit the switch and its an ACDC double of "ace of spades" and "thunderstruck." The car hits g-force 5 and I'm sure I made it to 70/75mph which is any mans 110mph. In the distance I see that granny bird flipper. With these tunes on I picture myself becoming a mass murderer of grannies up and down the east coast of Ireland. Ill be know as the "Carlow granny basher" murdering grannies on a whim with a national manhunt around the country looking for me. I decide that this isn't the best career move and all that chopping up bodies and burying them etc seems energy sapping and I'd probably have to do nights again. Im way too lazy to be a murderer anywsy.I overtake the gran mobile and give a nod and a smile. Poor little dear. She'll be dead soon enough. (Joking)

I'm motoring well now and Sheryl Crowe my "favourite mistake" comes on. Makes me think of Jane..... Nexxxtttt I say to myself and on comes UB40 "impossible love".I think of Jane again. Neexxtt??Lol. Prodigy with "smack my bitch up" reeeaalllly makes me think of Jane now. Lol. Need to change it up.

One of the greatest songs of all time has me singing full blast with a fake microphone. There are no words for Danielle o' Donnells version of the George Strait song "I just want to dance with you". An absolute classic and my go to song for sing songs or karaoke. If only I could play the squeeze box like that. Now I know why the grannies were flat out. They were probably listening to this as well. It's their equivalent to insomnia by faithless. The car leaves the Tarmac for those 3 minutes and heads for heaven as I transcend all that is good and bad in the world. The grim reaper could tap on the window right now and I'd be happy to go with him.

There are lots of songs along the way but  as I reach Fermoy there is an unmerciful smell of shit. I hope it's not me. It's an outside smell. Christ I can taste it.It has  a tear gas affect on me. My eyes are watering and bloodshot from it. I survive but I'm getting tired.I need a lift. 

Then the I-pod kicks into a few deep house tunes. 4 classics from Dennis Ferrer especially "sinfonia della notte" and I'm sick in my stomach from rushing memories of long days and even longer nights and 4 day never ending weekenders with good good people watching the sun rise.Irreplaceable   memories. The sun now shines through the windscreen. I'm home. Home to my girls.

A hug and a kiss and a smile from my daughters. I'm bulletproof.

 

Hangover 4. Part 1.

*long winded ramble*

Lucky to be alive would be an understatement.I've been on many stags with all sorts of messing from the insane and dangerous to downright illegal actions and the only difference this time to so many others was it was ûa really good friends stag which always kicks it up a notch.Fellas begged borrowed,stole or held up their local maxol to make it and away we went to Galway. There will be  no names or major stories inline with  Article 5 section 34a of the rules of the stag act 1900. These are just some observations as always.
                                                                                                                        My car and two occupants were first to arrive at the Western Hotel in Galway on Friday around 6pm ish having made great time. A lovely lady in reception with decent enough english tells me I can't check in as I am not the person that booked it. I am never rude to people I don't know but explain nicely that the person who booked it won't be coming (a complete lie) and she is still hesitant. I offer to leave money with her or indeed sing her her favourite song and she relents and gives us a key to our apartment.
                                                                                             She then tells us getting to the private underground car park is tricky and proceeds to give me a load of information that NASA wouldn't work out.She also gives us a key fob. I told her I'd need a degree to work all that out and I'd ring her if i got stuck.35 (yes 35 mins) later and numerous incorrect turns down one way streets we still havent found the car park. You would have to see the confusion,stress,sweat and abuse I had to endure to find a car park that was 10 feet away from the hotel but impossible to find due to one way systems and 2 other close by normal car parks both of which we visited and paid to get out of.
                                                                                          At this early stage (and no beer yet) 3 lads who cannot stand the site of each other anymore and have lost the will to live, have a brain wave. We suddenly remembered that the lady said "UNDERGROUND" car park so why were we after entering 2 "OVERGROUND" car parks? Better yet we said that if we were nearby that the key fob would open pandoras box for us. Sure enough after pressing on the key fob button for about 30 seconds walking up and down we see a gate open up like something out of Indiana Jones and the stag of doom.It genuinley wasn't marked well but the sense of joy let us forget what idiots we were and for those few moments we hugged,cried and forgave each other on a side street in Galway much to the amusement of passers by.We promised to never fight with each other again.It was a life changing experience.
                                                                                         We decend to level -2 like we were told and get our gear out of the car and head to side door to go up the lift to our apartment but the door needs an access code which I left at the reception of the hotel. I take out my phone under a lot of name calling and there is no reception.This is all too much for one of the lads who has had enough like in a vietnam war movie and he goes to launch at the door with his shoulder,legs and anything else he can use but we catch him in time. We are all in a bad way emotionally but eventually get the code and go to our apartmenst which are the tonic we needed with spectacular views over eyre square and Galway Bay.
                                                                                                  Needing a beer more than air we decide to head to the hotel bar to chill out and await the arrival of the lads. The 2 lads are ripping me to shreds still with abuse when I remind them they were stupid enough to come with me as if it were me (and i wasnt driving) I'd have waited in bar til they parked. That shut them up fairly lively!
                                                                                                  As is my nature I can't leave the 2 cars about to arrive in the lurch and I help get the rest of the boys booked in and show them the car park etc with a running commentary of what had happend to us. We are naturally christened the three stooges for the remainder of the weekend but at least they bought me a pint realising you would want to be Stephen Hawking to find the fuckin car park.We all settle in for the Ireland match with all the talk being of the splendour of our apartments. I have to remind fellas to take their knickers out of their arses as  we are not a feckin hen and buy a round of tequilla. Let the games begin............


to be continued.......

                                                                          

                                                                                                                      

ET Phone home.

Let me start by saying I love my dear mother to bits.She would die for me no questions asked but I'm at that stage now in life where I'm doing the looking after the parents instead of the other way around. She is way too soft and gave me the softness disease. If I murdered someone she would dispose of the body in a tasty little stew.

I ring her every day for a chat as she can out talk any 5 people I know, even me. With this in mind as well as concern for my own and her mental health some ground rules had to be set out.These are genuine.

1. She gets 8 minutes on the phone as 20+minute phone calls were regular with me losing the will to live by the end if it.Al Qaeda would break listening to her.

2. She can only talk about a maximum of two subjects.

3. Complaining  about my Dad and his every single movement of that day is a subject.

4. When I say "move it along Mam" when she trails off and forgets her original subject or point she must do so or forfeit 30 seconds on the clock.

5. She must accept I may have heard the story she is telling before and not ask me how i knew or to prove I'm not just saying that I've heard it before.

Heres a typical conversation:

Me: Hi Mam how's things?

Mam :grand now son, yourself?how are my beautiful grandchildren?

Me : all grand mam,what's the news?

Mam: your father is driving me around the bend. He is mooching around the place there and cranky all morning.

Me:I know mam he's been doing that for 40 years like.

Mam: I know but he has newspapers everywhere and he is searching for a sheet of paper he had with a phone number and when I ask him what he is looking for he says mind your own business woman.I can't get anything done with him.

Me: ya I know but why did you ask him if you knew what he was looking for.Just divorce him .ye had a good run.

Mam: I don't know. He's after cutting the grass now and there is more grass in the house than the garden and I'm sick of sweeping up the grass. He won't use the grass box like.I mean what kind of fool doesn't use the grass box.

Me: I dunno mam but il stop you there because as riveting as this is I'm kind of busy as well like.

Mam : You do nothing sure!

Me:Thanks mam!

Mam:How much time have I left?

Me: About 6 mins unfortunately mam.

Mam: Did I tell you Noreen is getting all her garden done? It's going to be fabulous when its done. She has 3 fellas in doing it....  (Proceeds to talk about every single tiny detail of the garden etc etc including where gardener are from and how I might know them.I always have to pretend I know them or else listen to ten minutes of her trying to link me to them somehow)

Me: You told me all that yesterday.

Mam: why did you let me tell you again?I thought I'm not allowed repeat stories? (me poor mam like).

Me: Because its eating up your 8 minutes and it stops me from wanting to kill myself.

Mam: how long have I left?

Me: One minute mam. Lets wrap this baby up and put it to bed cos once again  we will never get these 8 minutes back in our lives mam. They are gone for good.

Mam: you're very brazen to your poor mother.

Me: you're very brazen to my ears.I'd smother you in your sleep only for you wouldn't stop talking if I did and eventually consume the pillow.

Mam: I have to go anyway as the child (my 32 year old brother) is coming for his dinner.( I never get a dinner ffs)

Me :(sarcastically)Oh the child is coming is it. All make way for the child. Roll out the red carpet for the child. Don't forget now mam to wash behind the child's ears when you are bathing him and make sure you break his wind the poor little fella. Make sure he gets his blanky and a nice bottle before bed. Make sure now there is no draught so hewon't get a cold. I'm going to punch him right in his spine when i see him.

Mam:what's on the clock now ya lunatic???? (And hangs up)

I look at the clock. 11 minutes. Touché Mam.....Touché!