HOW TO LAUNCH A BOOK

Do you want some rum?” said the young man on the platform at Dalkey railway station last night, taking a naggin of some clear liquid out of his breast pocket.  “No thanks, I’m fine” I replied.  Although I was secretly delighted to be ‘down with the kids‘ as they say.  We had just come from ‘a marvellous party‘ as Mr Coward might say.  It was the launch of the collected writings from some of the Dalkey literary set whom I enjoy hanging out with these days.  From pints at the back of the Hapenny to ‘Sauv Blanc’ in Finnegans gives me a deliciously wide ambit of cultural experience in my mature years.  Anyway the book was edited and put together by the irrepressible and totally lovely Anna Fox, actress, writer and publisher.  Toute le monde gathered in Fitzpatricks Castle in Killiney to send off the book and a delightful night was had by all.  One of the young men had a story in the book and brought his friend – the one with the rum – to the launch.  They were in high spirits and we had a delightful chat on the railway platform.  Later in the evening I walked home from the train station – glad of the cool night air as I was sporting a divine coat given to me by my friend A – the sort of coat that can only be worn in cool weather – and global warming seems to have halted it’s arrival this year.  Underneath I was wearing my environmentally friendly dress purchased in Stockmanns in Helsinki.  It’s true – not SKYROS 2015 034an iota of the ozone layer was damaged in it’s making! and all the labour force were properly paid.  Note to self – maybe another trip to Stockmanns in the Spring to buy something else from their wonderful range? I will find an excuse – yolo.  Chat soon.

Tootle

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LET THERE BE LIGHT

“I’m in the Home Decor shop looking at light fittings, meet me there” I texted the son late this afternoon at work.  He arrived and we bought the necessary.  Earlier I had a quote from ‘the man who does building’ for the downstairs Jacks (bathroom for the Yanks) although there is no bath.  So we are heading towards a sociable Christmas – one when I can finally invite people to drop in for drinks.  “What do you think of that?” I said to the child pointing at a discounted chandelier in the Home Decor centre.  “It’s awful” he replied.  “Do people put things like that in downstairs Jacks?” I asked the woman behind the counter.  “Absolutely, it’s a feature” she replied.  It will be a feature in mine without any need for consent from those who are not paying for the upgrade.  One simply cannot wait for a stylish Christmas in this ‘Des Res’.  FinallyDSCN0563the man is coming early next week to achieve this aim – please dear God let this work out!  Tomorrow night is a book launch in Killiney and then Saturday is ‘looking at tiles day‘.  One must not complain.  One must give mucho thanks for this current great life. p.s. you know that football thing where we are all supposed to hate the Danes?  So why would you hate a football team who tries their best to win a match?  Is that – like – wrong?  Chat soon.

Tootle

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ISABELLA RIDES AGAIN

So this Wednesday at 8 in Chaplins Comedy Club in Hawkins St in Dublin, Isabella Cervantes is performing yet another gig!  Isabella is my alter ego and gets more gigs than me because she is blonde, more fun and so out there.  I’m jealous of the bitch – especially as I have to go every where with her because she cannot go on her own.  “But does she get paid?” asked F at my writing class on Saturday.  “No, none of us get paid” I admitted.  F said that Eire is really bad at paying people in the arts and that a promoter wanted him and his band to perform at a high roller’s private gig for like six hours, provide their own equipment and accept a tiny fee.  And the ‘being good for the C.V.’ shite doesn’t wash after the age at which there is less left on the clock than has gone before.  After the writing class a few of us repaired to Finnegans for lunch.  There were a few limos with blacked out windows and security outside.  Maybe Bono was bringing some world leader to lunch we thought – but then maybe he’s lying low these days.  Anyway it’s where he brought Michele Obama and her girls to lunch.  Meanwhile the fluffy dog from the house behind has ceased to invade the ‘des garden‘.  The child who took care of this is pleased.  It’s unfortunate that people only respond to strong language when a request if proferred. It’s funny how you spend the early years of your child’s life telling them not to use foul language and then when they’re adults – wishing they would.  Saturday night I went to Therese Cahill’s alarmingly good show in the Mill Theatre – best comedy in yonks.  Reminds me slightly of Dory Previn but more fun and less whingey.  Today the old jaloppy is being serviced – am already speculating on what they will find in need of replacement.  I trust not the motor industry but then the NCT looms and I need the car to ferry Christmas drink to the ‘DSCN0876‘.  There may be visitors – if I can get a reliable builder to tile the jacks!  Yes, a reliable builder –  now there’s  an oxymoron in my opinion.  Chat soon.

Tootle

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CHEESE CHATS

“Excuse me what’s that cheese like?” said the woman who was even drunker than me in Tesco this afternoon.   Although I wasn’t actually drunk – I just had two glasses of white wine over lunch with my friend V in The Goat this afternoon.  They joy of being a woman who doesn’t have to work anymore is a pleasure beyond recognition.  Anyway there I was in Tesco looking at a small roundel of Carrigbyrne cheese which actually said ‘camembert‘ on the cover but I think yer wan only wanted a chat and probably had even  more wine than I had.  I told her that the Carrigbyrne was brown around the edges and was probably past it’s sell by even though on paper it wasn’t.  This was too much info for her to absorb so she just smiled.  Bless her.  Anyway V and I had a splendid lunch and didn’t even get half way near what we wanted to say so there is going to be a re- match at a future date – that’s the problem with women who learn too much.  On the way home I met S who had just come from a workshop on a topic close to my heart – so we are going to meet up for coffee soon.  Meanwhile I have a free night Yay! tomorrow will also be SKYROS 2015 021gentile because a Saturday morning’s writing class beckons with all it’s demands for alertness not to mention Saturday evening in the Mill Theatre in Dundrum to see the fabuloso Therese Cahill in her one woman show which seriously promises to be a brill night out- so can’t wait – not to mention the apres show!.

Chat soon

Tootle

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ISABELLA

The lovely Eve Darcy launched her new monthly comedy club in The Workmans last night and my friend Isabella was on the line up of comedians.  Naturally I had to go along as she wouldn’t have gotten to the gig without me.  I had a terrible cold – one of the nasty ones that make travelling on a bus seem like an interminable journey of of illness.  Well it was actually because the bus went the long way around Pearse Street and because it was sort of rush hour and there was a train strike it took three ‘goes‘ to go through the lights at the corner of Pearse Street and College Green – three goes! everyone was muttering ‘It would be quicker to walk’.  Meanwhile when I got to the Workmans I was feeling veritably ill – however Isabella wasn’t – she never gets colds – she’s too thick to let the germs in.  Anyway she had a great night and shared her mad fun with an appreciative audience.  The super headliner Alison Spittle even gave me and Isabella two tickets to see Kathy Griffin in Vicar Street tonight!  How cool is that.  But I’ll be able to bring someone with me as I can sneak Isabella in under my coat.  I think a quick sauna and steam might be in order to clear the head first.  It’s funny how you never see – ‘have fun and drink cold beer with hot comedians’ listed amongst the cures for the common cold.  Chat soon.

TootleDSCN0863

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WHY? OH WHY?

“I saw that Josephine Bloggs (not her real name) died this summer” I said to my chum in the literary set in Dalkey on Saturday.  He and I both knew Jo (not her real name) because he was in Trinity with her and I worked with her in a highly prestigious Dublin legal firm (yes, I did have my moments).  “She hanged herself you know” he replied and then went on to fill me in on the details which included organising her memorial service, making her will and finding someone who was not family to discover the body.  “She drove to Donegal to do it, they had a holiday home there, her husband and daughter were not there”.  I have driven to Donegal from Dublin a few times, mostly when my children were small, it’s a long drive.  So many ‘pee’ and ‘coffee’ stops along the way.  So many people you would interact with, especially going through the North.  When I took my boys on holiday to Donegal once when my husband fucked off with the slut (excuse my French – maybe I’m emotional about Jo) and I got a job which paid for photo0830_002_001such jaunts, I was aware of much interaction.  First of all there were the British soldiers in Tyrone who popped a rifle into my jeep when the youngest stirred from the back – he was 4 – and asked me where I was going.  There was the petrol station / coffee place where Lionel, the youngest tried to exchange Southern money in his innocence.  Lots of opportunities to think.  I wish I could have met Jo on her journey and said “You probably don’t remember me, I was a nobody in the big firm we once worked in – and I always envied you – you were so smart and intelligent and your career rocketed and you were so attractive and an immensely decent human being with so many talents – I hope you have the happiness all that deserves and if you don’t maybe tell me why”.  So many places you wish you could have been and so much you wish you could have said.  Chat soon.  p.s. I’m doing a gig in The Workmans Club in Dublin tomorrow night in my other persona ‘Isabella Cervantes’.  I do some entertaining these days.  My life is not perfect – far from – but I’m still here.  Will try better.

 

Tootle

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ODEON DON’T REALLY CARE

“What will I put down for occupation? I’m retired but do you need to know what I did before I retired….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz” asked the elderly woman who was in front of me today in the queue for cinema tickets at the local flea pit.  The girl had managed to sell her an Odeon Card which gets you fuck all but is marketed as something of value.  You are asked to fill in a form with the usual shaboola of data that is of use to marketeers.  I have my own method of dealing with this – and it’s deliciously fictional.  However the poor old dear took it all seriously and held up the queue by asking silly questions about everything.  “Odeon don’t give a tuppenny fuck about your past life, your present life or even your short future life” I was tempted to yell.  I was playing my usual game of arriving in the cinema three minutes before the main feature begins so that I won’t have to spend half an hour being forced to watch advertising on the big screen.  At least the Beeb 2 and Netflix save me watching it on the little one.  I miscalculated and had to watch a couple of trailers but got the whole of Murder on the Orient Express.  It was 12 noon and the cinema was full – seems there are other fans of the early movie in the locale.   The earlier the better in my view – the brain is fresh and untainted by the day’s annoyances and so better to absorb the atmos and travel to snowy peaks, sandy shores and savour food on imaginary tables.  Unfortunately there wasn’t enough food – or wine on the tables in this film – or enough views that weren’t snow.  I wanted to start my weekend off with the Charlston and champagne – with truffles for pudding and dry sherry in the dining car.  Personally I don’t care who murdered who or why – just give me the style – real life is murderous and grey enough.  Meanwhile I rejoin the Dalkey literary set for some early morning writing tomorrow with perhaps aCNV00031 bowl of soup and a glass of ‘Sauv Blanc’ in Finnegans afterwards.  Not the great Orient Express – but it will do for now.  Chat soon.

Tootle

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