1 goodbye, 2 Weddings, 2 rounds of golf and 4 hangovers
Like every good weekend this one started on a wednesday. You see I had thursday and friday off and seeing as this week also contained a bank holiday I was looking at one of those all too rare, yet magical 2 day weeks!! So hotfooted into town to meet work colleagues for Barney’s going away drinks night. A sad night for me personally as we spent manys a day working together and playing pool, more playing pool I must say. We drank the bleeding horse dry, moved on down camden street where the big ugly bouncer manning the door to whelans took exception to the cut of my jib. ‘Run along there chap, we shant be having you or your ilk in here tonight’, into the village so for large bottles of Budvar. Top the night off with a kebab and you have yourself the perfect recipe for a thursday morning hangover.
Hangovers always seem so much worse when its sunny. Hangovers are unbearable when you have stuff to do, like get to hazels wedding all the way down in county kildare. Kickoff on the invitation is 2, so need to bus into town, luas to train, train to kildare, taxi to bnb, shower, change back in the taxi to the ceremony. Sounds simple, well it started off well. Got to Kildare in one piece to find the town completely taken over by a huge market, didn’t know which way was up for a while (i’m gonna cope well in india). After a wee while I plucked up the courage to ask a native to direct me to the local taxi rank. 20 mins later I find myself 4 miles out of town talking to a crazy bnb lady – she was obsessed with the word savage, and me for using it. I really needed to use the bathroom after wolfing litres of water but no matter how short I made my answers she wouldn’t shut up. Eventually I got to my room and I got relief and an hour to catch up on some Zs.
1:45 my taxi arrives and I leap into the back of it looking pretty dapper, well its as good as it gets I am afraid. Off into town we go and I arrive at the church at 2:05. Bugger!! I am late, it looks as though the whole thing had kicked off. You may have gathered by now that I was flying solo as the lovely rossella carderelli was back in rome knitting or something (be glad you got a mention darling!!). So I took a seat in the last pew in the back right hand side of the church successfully without disturbing any of the punctual wedding party all the time wondering how the hell did I get the time so bloody wrong!! I don’t tend to listen in churches but for some reason I started listening to this priest, what he was saying was nice if a little generic – several mentions of the name anthony had me wondering though, ‘who the hell is anthony?’ ‘why the hell would anyone care how nervous he was the week before’ and ‘what bloody difference does it make to mark and hazel that he does all this wonderful work around the parish?’ Penny drops – I am at the wrong bloody wedding!!!
I have dropped some clangers in my time and this certainly is up there with the best of them. With less subtlety than before I buggered out of the church and after interrogating an old woman on the street I found my way to the correct church and the correct wedding – thankfully a flower malfunction had delayed the start of the wedding and I got in just before the bride.
Hazel looked stunning and I was absolutely chuffed for her to have her big day on the most perfect day in a fantastic church and the reception was the last word. Of course I was met with the hurdle of trying to get to the reception from the church – it took alot of being a shy prat tormented by the voices in my head but I eventually bummed a lift of hazels aunt and uncle. After an awkward 20 minute drive I landed at the hotel. Hermitage Golf and Spa – it has something like 17 stars!! Wedding party was very friendly as I was on my own (have I mentioned I was on my own) lots of them got me over talking to them and made me feel comfortable in no time at all – that and the 9 pints of Guinness before the meal, plenty of them after, 4 glasses of wine during the meal and god knows how many Caucasians. Its all one big blur but a bloody brilliant blur to boot. Jesus count the number of b’s in the last sentence – thats alliteration for you!!
Recovery from a session like that is something which takes time – so I wasn’t too upset about missing my train back to dublin and the ensuing 2 hour wait for the next one. Bag on the ground, head on the bag, coat over head and zs. Its very tough to sleep on tarmacadam!! Train arrives and the journey back is a blur. The remedy and reward for making back to abbey street is the Epicurean Food Emporium and an (I’m told) authentic indian tikka massala. Man was it tasty, it barely had time to warm the plate before it was sent to a better place. So 1 o’clock on a glorious 25 degree dublin afternoon, there was little chance of me beating a path back to my bed. If anyone knows ireland they know that days like this are rare and need to be made the most off. Following a brief sojourn to tower records where copies of the new national (excellent) and QOTSA albums were purchased along with Richard Dawkins – The God Delusion – I made my way across trinity college and up westmoreland street, across college green and in through the front gate of trinity college. I remember growing up back in cavan and people used to have an opinion of trinity and the people who went there. I am sad to say it has taken me quite a while to discover what utter nonsense that is. I love the place, it oozes history and class, it demands and it gets respect from its visitors. I sat by the side of the cricket pitch for a couple of hours partly people watching, partly reading my new book most of the rest of the time dozing off in the shade of the trees that surround the pitch. There really are so many wasters in dublin, bumming around enjoying the sun – isn’t it great
Time never stands still I’m afraid, escapism is almost always met with returnism. Back to the house armed with a striploin steak and some organic vegtables – the final enactment of my recovery. Fed and watered it was just a case of waiting for sean, adrianna and barry to arrive so we could all travel down to dungarvan for the annual handball golf classic.
Later that night we arrive in dungarvan – pints are mentioned and being a guest I couldn’t say no. Into powers pub in the square where the pints where most definitely powerfull. Dragged out of the place kicking and screaming to an awful establishment called the parish we sat supping on what I admit were very nice pints but in much worse surroundings. We escaped, just about to the local chipper where they pioneered a special burger for myself and barry. Once the burgers were demolished a taxi was sought and homeward bound once again!!
Right at this stage I was knackered, in bits, 10 o’clock in the morning I discover that seanie and kenny were down 2 men for the golf and they needed myself and barry to step up to the plate. Cometh the hour cometh the men, we went out and played quite well actually. The golf course was called west waterford (still is I think) – its a nice course with some very quick greens. The heat was stifling though and it was only the thought of a steak sandwich and a big fat slice of cheesecake that kept us sane on the way around. 18 holes in we duly gorged ourselves on the food that was put in front us – though left another 5 minutes to our own devices and I’m sure there would’ve been bite marks on the table. Another burger that didn’t stand a chance was barely past my lips when our second round of the day partners arrived – step forward David McAndrew (Muppet extraordinarie) and Shane (little sister bang bang) dower!!
First round was hard second one was harder again – didn’t play near aswell – concentration was a big thing. If I put one hole together you could be rest assured the next one was pure muck!! like that fella from the start of monty pythons flying circus (’its….’) myself and bar fell into the clubhouse and into the arms of the waiting arthur guinness. After a short presentation to all-ireland winners from that part of the world (take a bow – barry and dave) it was onto dungarvan town for a night of hijinx and general mayhem. Alcohol at this stage was having zero affect on me so I was happy enough to blend into the background while others made fools of themselves
kinda typical twas barry and I that ended up having to walk the 3 miles back to ballinroad. Some sleep saturday night, the beds in mcandrews house definitely have some mystical replenishing powers for if it was my own rented bed in dublin I think I would still be in it given the amount of energy expended the previous couple of days. Sunday was another scorcher which we took at our own leisure, knocked on back up the road to the capital of this country, back to the gaff intact, straight to bed!! Back to work in the morning with a good story to tell – if only people would listen to me….
ciao for now
Phil Gill
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