HUGO NEEDS A HOLIDAY

Hugo apparently is in great need of a holiday due to him being stressed.  This was according to a woman who walked around the park behind me this evening conducting a conversation on her mobile phone – loudly and for all – even the nearly deaf – to hear.  Anyway, Hugo’s stress was caused by his helping her through her recent separation – although she didn’t elaborate what Hugo’s role in the separation was – i.e. did he lend a shoulder to cry on or was another part of his anatomy involved.  Anyway both she and Hugo are going to Canada in September.  Jennifer is having an affair with the man next door despite him having a tiny penis and poor old Sally is hitting the gin again – though no reason was given for this.  James is hilarious and great fun as is Jo Brand although what the relationship is between James and Jo Brand I couldn’t quite make out due to helicopters flying overhead.  I suspect that James is just a comedian that the woman saw on television with Jo Brand – I don’t think she actually knows Jo Brand – although she does seem to know everyone else in Eire.  I kept an ear out for a mention of one of my friends but none were named – pity, I do love a bit of gossip now and then.  The woman had a posh accent and an unfortunate arse – one that is wobbly and has spread and she leant forward in her gait – she walked as if she were in a bog – which is probably where she came from – the accent probably came with the deeds of the house.  I went for the walk to energize myself on this leafy but heavy Summer night when I can’t seem to summon any energy – although I did write some new comedy for next week’s line up of gigs – starting with Anseo on Tuesday evening – around 9 I think and admission is free so no outlay there to hear more of my witterings.  Meanwhile the eldest child has gone to see Blondie at the Aviva –Deerpark 001 I  loved that group during my unhappy years – her energy was uplifting.  Hopefully I will summon up some myself for this week of three gigs – Chat soon.

Tootle

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PASSPORT TO HEAVEN

Apparently the passport office here in Eire is way back logged with all sorts of sheboolahs looking for Irish passports because of one thing or another e.g. the Brexit debacle or because there’s a shower of foreigners who think we’re a good nation to belong to – I have to laugh at that one given the years when no one even knew who we were or else thought we were a shower of savages.  Nevertheless those of us who have endured learning the ‘tuiseal guinedach, the green Catechism and first confessions are having to wait in line.  I have applied on line not even waiting to have a decent photo – to have my yoke renewed and apparently it could take months – so should I have to wait in in a queue with people who have only recently heard of the word ‘Ireland’?  Apparently one does according to the Department of Foreign Affairs who want to seem lovely to the world at large and if you whinge at all you are deemed to be a racist – which is the worst thing you could be these days – even worse than Hitler it seems.  Well fuck that.  Luckily I still have the old passport and could still even manage a trip to Greece with it.  After that I’ll stay put here until I’m put out to pasture.  However the grumpiness and non PC humour won’t have to stay restrained for too long – next weeks gigs are (in linear order)  Tuesday : The Camden Comedy Club at Anseo in Camden Street – Wednesday : Jesters Weird at Peadar Kearneys in Dame Street and Friday : dscn0894there will be a reading from my current opus in the Irish Writers Centre in Parnell Square.  Come to any or all.  Chat soon..

 

 

Tootle

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HOUSE KEEPING

On hot days when breakfast starts late with toast and honey and the trip to the internet fails to satisfy it’s hard to justify a louche existence.  Although I have three gigs lined up next week which need a lot of editorial assistance – somehow I was lacking in energy about the day ahead.  So here’s what you do – housework – never fails to both entertain and reward.  And if you are like moi and have lots of stuff from many lives which will never be needed again – I would advise you to bite the bullet and shower your friends and the charity shops with goodness.  Although who would want a load of my paintings I’m not quite sure – though better to dispose of them now than see them put on a skip when one kicks the proverbial bucket.  And yes, I do believe that we hang around for a bit to see who does what with our stuff and talks about us.  One of my most reliable banks is to close soon – so they informed me by letter today and suggested I take my savings elsewhere.  But where? who can one trust.  Or maybe I should just blow the lot on a round the world trip when one still has one’s faculties.  Or I could put it in the post office and let the government use it for their trips around the world whilst I get a pitiful interest rate.  Maybe on such aSKYROS 2015 021 world trip I might encounter opportunities for another type of life?  Parallel universes or what?  Meanwhile I shall continue to clean the home and write more subversive comedy material.  All comes to she who wonders on hot Summer nights.  Greece or Iceland?  Hot or cold?  Or both?  Tis a short trip around the Sun we have so it should be a great one.  Chat soon.

Tootle

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WORLDS APART

There was a programme on BBC Two the other night about parallel universes and the theory was that every time you make a decision e.g. ‘right or left?’ that the decision you didn’t take continues on in a parallel universe.  And so there are all these ‘other selves’ living in similar universes with the consequences of that decision i.e. the one we didn’t take.  Apparently it’s all governed by the law of mathematics.  Are you still with me? I had to concentrate really hard especially as the programme was on very late at night.  However given all we now know about the fluidity of matter and cosmic influences it’s kind of believable.  Like take yesterday for example when I was in town around 6 p.m. and I was tired and instead of going to the bus I went into ‘And Other Stories‘ to look at tops and then I saw a delightful fusCNV00031cia creation in the sale but I was too exhausted to try it on but I really did like it so I decided to return to M&S in Grafton Street and have a cappuccino to buck me up even though I never drink caffeinated drinks after midday.  But I decided to break my own rule and so I sat in their coffee shop which looks out on Grafton Street and people watched which was a pleasure in itself – and then when I finally got a bus it was half empty.  Was there another moi who left the city early and whose night ended differently?  That is the question.  It’s all a bit ‘Sliding Doors‘.  Anyway the coffee did not keep me awake but the ‘And Other Stories‘ was closed when I finished it so I didn’t try on the pink top although another me may have done so.  I may go somewhere else to look for a top and meet other people with a different outcome.  There was a travel programme on the telly this evening about Iceland which was interesting and affordable now that there are flights from Dublin.  What if I went there for a week instead of a month in Greece – what parallel universe would that create?  “Go and have an adventure” said the eldest son.  He always says that but it’s still good advice.  Chat soon.

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HOT UNDER THE COLLAR

Met Eireann (the Irish Weather Forecasting Service for my American chums) has issued a warning to people with respiratory conditions i.e. Moi – not to exercise or make too much of an effort over the next couple of days.  Grand – suits me fine – thanks very much.  I wish it would extend it’s ‘Chill the fucking down‘ message  to some of my neighbours here in ‘Leafy Land’.  For example to the cunt who deposited a bag of dog shit in the middle of the ‘des lawn’ today – and yes, I know it’s easy to envy those of us with cool gardens – or perhaps you dislike my Elan and joie de vivre – my ability to entertain an audience in the Sugar Club – whatevs – no need to be a bollix.   Mrs Dreary returned to her res today with a yoga mat under her oxter – I would ask for my money back if I were you dearie – the classes don’t seem to be having the desired effect on your equilibrium – going by the crazed look in your eyes yesterday when tackling what would appear to be a minor garden chore and dumping the cuttings into my garden.  I met a much more chilled country woman today in the post office savings branch and we whiled away the waiting time for service by exchanging anecdotal evidence on the joys of ageing.  She was from Galway and urged me to go over for some of the Arts Festival’s festivities as a day tripper considering that the train journey was only 2 and a half hours – and free for the likes of us.  I am preparing my schedule as I type.  Meanwhile the rain is falling on the lawn and I’m making plans for the next trip.  Although there will be two comedy performances from moi next week – one in Anseo on Tuesday and a reading from the major opus in The Irish Writers Centre on Friday.  And yes, last night’s story telling event in the Sugar Club went swimmingly – thank you for asking.  Another warm night beckons me DSCN0465to its bosum.. Chat soon.

Tootle

p.s. Yes I do know that I have a charmed life – thank you God x

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TO TOP IT ALL

We all do stuff when we don’t want to face reality – different stuff – mostly harmless.  Here is a thing that I do – when I am nervous about something I usually think that if I look really well then everything will be fine and dandy.  Like tomorrow night I am telling a story at a story telling yoke and I’ve thought long and hard about my story and have decided to be very emotionally honest.  I think I am most of the time – but probably not.  Anyway I have allowed myself to think that I haven’t got a decent top to wear over my new Isabel Marant pants – which are black – you can wear any top over black pants. I have a lot of tops – a lot – and yet none appear to work.  I’m nervous about revealing myself – that’s what’s really going on – it’s not about tops at all.  Meanwhile it was summer again today in Eire which meant the super duper pool was empty which was heavenly.  Then I went to the library for another talking book – I can’t cook without the talking book, it helps me ignore the grime in a kitchen where the children do no housework.  Today’s book is by Douglas Kennedy whom I remember as a gawky theatre intern in 80s Dublin DSCN0821– today he is a world class story teller.  Tonight there was a documentary about elderly drivers here in Eire and a man who was 101 stole the show by being completely in charge of every aspect of his life – interesting that he was a staunch environmentalist and drove an electric car.  Awe inspiring he was.  I once used to lecture in Environmental Law and all my students were fired up about it.  Now I just tell stories and make people laugh about how ridiculous it all is – it’s that time of one’s life.  Chat soon.

Tootle

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KEEPING GOING

I met L, an old college acquaintance, a couple of months ago after I had tippled out of a shareholders luncheon and went into the supermarket in the village.  There she was, as glamorous and gregarious as ever.  “How are you?” I enquired.  “Fine, apart from having terminal cancer” she replied.  But she was determined to stay alive for her daughter’s wedding.  I met her again today in M&S and she told me that the daughter was getting married in London next weekend.  She was as bright and breezy as ever despite having the tiniest bones – she has bone cancer.  The daughter is marrying a big shot – like a serious big shot – I looked him up on the internet – the daughter will never be poor.  L is seriously looking forward to the wedding which has an impressive guest list and three days of celebration.  She was always chirpy in college – her joie de vivre never stopped – I hope it continues.  None of us continue for ever anyway.  This evening I got the child to drag a spare mattress out of the garden shed – I am not marrying a big shot –dscn0927 and I covered it with towels and brought out the CD player and played French tunes that I bought in Brussels when I was organising a conference there with fuckface.  They included French love songs from my youth.  I spread out the Sunday Times – equipped myself with a bowl of olives and an earthenware cup of wine, factor 50, a Greek sun hat – tinted reading glasses and had a beach afternoon in the ‘des garden’.  All is well – one simply cannot complain – although if Oscar trimmed the hedge near the entrance to the property then I wouldn’t clip my wing mirror every time I drove in or out. This is not my garden but a picture of my toe in Greece.  Chat soon.

Tootle

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