Pull yourselves together

I came in to work this morning and couldn't avoid all the coverage of Katy French's death in the Irish media. Obviously it's very tragic and her family must be going through hell but is it any more or less tragic than the death of Kevin Doyle in Waterford last week? He died in what appears to be similar circumstances and a friend of his is still fighting for his life in hospital but nobody seems too concerned about them.

Now, I'm not completely naive - I understand that she's a celebrity and the papers have an audience that demands celebrity news as opposed to grim news from Waterford. The papers behavior at time like this is one thing, but I really can't believe some of the comments that have been posted on the Independent's website under their main report.. Who on earth is writing this stuff? Katy French was an Irish model - I've no idea if she was a good one or not. I don't know how these things are decided. She got a lot of coverage in the Sunday Independent for most of the year and I've seen her on various tv shows but I don't know much more about her than that. A lot of the things that have been written here this morning are by people who didn't know much about her either. It hasn't stopped them though..

Here's some of the comments. I've lifted them directly from the site:

I can't believe the news....Katy was such and inspiration to many...

I didn't know this lady but a huge loss to Ireland...

She was our princess-we each owned a little bit of her. That beautiful smile and warm personality will be greatly missed and never forgotten...

Ireland has lost today,a very special person, a beautiful icon of such grace and charm...

R.I.P Katy, a light went out in Dublin last night..

The world is certainly a poorer place without her.

You will be greatly missed by the whole country..

The whole Irish nation is in mourning at the loss of this beautiful young girl. She touched us all deep in our hearts and even those who did not know her are in sadness today...

There is billion's of stars shining in the sky but there is one thats shining bright Katy and thats you...

Seriously, isn't there something wrong with us if we're talking about this girl's death as some kind of national tragedy? Where did this need to mourn come from? Did it all start with Princess Diana's death? Obviously the media need to take some responsibility for the way these things are reported but those comments have been posted by regular punters that are reading the same news reports that you and I are .. 'an inspiration to many... our princess... a beautiful icon...the brightest star in the sky...' What's wrong with these people? What possesses them to write this stuff?

Perhaps people feel this way because of the way she died. If she died suddenly I don't think people would have reacted that way they have. We had 5 full days of coverage with very little fresh news. As a result there's been lots of speculation and lots of people playing catch-up on who she is and what she's done. In my office on Monday very few people had heard of her or knew who she was. Four days later and it's like we've been following her life and exploits for years. Without being disrespectful, it's almost been like the ultimate celebrity reality show. Now that it's over, people feel the need to add their little summary. It was the same when George Best died. That story lived for so long in the news at the time that the momentum carried on after his death to the point that he practically had a state funeral.

Am I being a bit harsh? I don't mean to speak ill of the dead here. On the other hand, I do mean to speak ill of the living. How do these people deal with real problems close to home? How will they deal with a death in their own family? In the end I think that her family and friends must be in a terrible state this week. The same can be said for Kevin Doyle's. But the grief is theirs. Trying to make it ours as well is just distasteful..

It's Christmas!

Well it is, isn't it? Every year we all complain that the shops are stocking Christmas decorations too early, that it's too commercalised, that it's not like it used to be etc. etc. but now that we're into the first week in December is it ok for us to talk about it?

I was looking at RTE's Christmas schedule earlier. Or their Christmas Christmas schedule as they seem to be calling it. Anyway, I can't wait for it all to kick off. Christmas highlights include a Killinaskully Christmas special, Westlife on the Late Late Show, lots of cheapo sports 'end of year' type review shows, Podge and Rodge on New Year's Eve and best of all, the cast of Fair City in some kind of X Factor-style singing competition. It all sound terrible and it all sounds fantastic. I know that when we were kids there was always lots of excitement abut the big Christmas films on tv but RTE can't rely on that stuff anymore. We've all seen the films (this year's premieres include The Life Aquatic, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Finding Nemo and Sin City) on DVD already, so RTE have to come up with something else and this year it's Leo Dowling from Fair City singing 'Strangers in he Night' (probably). I've no problem with all this. Besides the good old days weren't really that good were they? Morecambe and Wise? Top of the Pops Christmas special? Bah! The past is gone, the future is Corrigan's Christmas Countdown! Bring it on..

And look at this.
For years, the same lights have gone up on Grafton Street and George's Street but this year, they've got a new man in to shake things up and it all looks fantastic. Better still, the lights are 75% more energy efficient than before. Hurrah!

Last night I went to the cinema to see Strength and Honour, an Irish film about travellers and boxing. It was full of cliches and awful acting. And terrible accents, of course. Lots of American actors with shiny teeth saying things like "C'mon Mikey, sure sometimes we need to go back to where we've been to know where we're going at all, at all. Bejaysus and begod, stick on a pint of the quare stuff" Actually that's a bit unfair - it's pretty bad but it's not that bad. I think there was good intentions behind it but I could have done without Vinny Jones doing his impression of Brad Pitt's impression of Irish travellers from Snatch. I couldn't understand a word he said! Anyway before the film they showed this ad. I know people talk about how Christmassy the Budweiser Clydesdales ad is but this Guinness ad (yes - another guinness ad. This is the last time) really puts me in the mood..



Happy Christmas!

The Domino effect

I saw the new Guinness ad on tv last night. I heard somewhere they've spen 5 million quid on it. Don't know if that's true or not but you have to admire it. Doesn't make me want to rush out for a jar of stout though..



Looking at it reminded me of this ad for vodafone which a friend of a friend worked on last year. A smaller scale perhaps but fewer cutaways. Apparently for weeks afterwards when he had a quiet moment he could still hear those coins turning over. I imagine he dreamt about it for months..

Preaching to the converted

I went along to the Ambassador to see the Manic Street Preachers on Friday night. I like the Manics. They're decent performers and they seem to have a genuine bond with their fans. Sure, their best days are probably behind them but they're still writing great songs and have hung in longer than most of their peers.. The first time I saw them live, about 5 years ago, they were touring their 'best of' record and it all seemed a bit flat. This time they were touring on the back of Send Away the Tigers, one of the best records of the year (to my ears at least), and they just seemed a lot more engaged with the material and, in turn, with the audience...

Or at least part of the audience.. There was a strange atmosphere at the gig. On one hand you had people crowdsurfing, no - really people were crowdsurfing, and large sections of the audience were singing, clapping and generally behaving as you'd expect an audience at a rock concert to behave. But at the same time you had lots of people who didn't seem to be paying much attention to anything at all.. 4 guys in front of me spent most of the gig talking to each other and playing some kind of a game that involved squeezing each other's back and then rubbing their noses. It was very odd and more than a little homoerotic. Which is fine, but why come to a Manics gig to do it. Occasionally, they'd look up, recognise something (most likely something from Everything Must Go) and punch their fists in the air.. Then they'd go back to pinching each other.. Perhaps they couldn't believe they were at a Manic Street Preacher's show. I had a similiar experience when I went to see Bryan McFadden in Whelans a couple of years ago.

But that's a different story..

Anyway, despite all that nonsense it was a decent show and, yes, they finished with A Design For Life. It's funny - not being a huge fan of the Manics, I often forget about Richie Edwards. I was never really interested in them until Steve educated me a few years ago and so, although I can remember the palaver when he disappeared, I never really think about it very much. So during Design for Life, when James Dean Bradfield moved his mike over to Richie's old position on the stage, I didn't realise for a moment what he was doing. As the band played on, he said goodnight and sang the chorus one last time from Richie's spot. No encores and no curtain calls (apart from Nicky Wire doing a spot of skipping!) It made for great theatre and was terribly moving. Things like that really warm me to bands. I can always forgive a bit of ploddiness and bad pacing if there's genuine affection and sentiment onstage. The Manics have it to spare. Long may they run..

An arm or a leg?

Saw a poster for Shane Ward's new album this morning.. Can anyone tell is that an arm or a leg over his shoulder? I think it's an arm.. It looks like that's a girl leaning over the back of him? What on earth is she doing? Looking for change? Checking the label on his shirt? It's very odd indeed..

The boyz are back in town...

It's not all Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan round at Connolly Towers. I used to have a sneaky fondness for Take That back in the day and now that I don't really care what anyone thinks and don't believe in the concept of guilty pleasures (you either like it or you don't - no guilt required) I'm more than happy to see that their comeback has been one of the great pop success stories of the last 18 months.

Boyzone, however, are a completely different bag of tools though. And what tools! Right from that 'legendary' appearance on the Late Late show in '93, they were exposed as nothing more than a bunch of opportunistic chancers. There's nothing wrong with that, of course - there's been plenty of chancers before and since Boyzone's glory dayz. But the way that they modelled themselves on Take That's template showed such a lack of imagination that you couldn't really afford them them very much goodwill. When they split up in.. actually when did they split up? I think Westlife had already arrived to knock them off their perch by then, so Boyzone's demise really didn't have any impact.. When Take That split up in '96 it was front page news. By the time this mob called it a day, nobody cared anymore..

And that's the way it stayed. Ronan had his solo career (more covers, a few originals, public falling-out with Louis Walsh all resulting in dwindling sales), Keith turned to acting (go on admit it - he wasn't at all bad in the Street) and the rest fell back into comfortable obscurity (Shane - Celebrity Love Island, Mikey - Fatal Deviation, Steven - em.....). But with one eye on Take That's triumphant return and another on their bank statement, they're back! Turns out they didn't really hate each other at all and now they're going to tour as a favour to all their loyal fans.. Personally I think they could be going for a bit of a tumble.. Have a look at their performance last week on the Children in Need telethon and tell me they've still got it. Whatever 'it' was in the first place. As you'd expect, Ronan is still running the show. It looks like Mikey and Keith would rather be anywhere else than on that stage. And what's the story with Keith Duffy's popeye arms? Give that man a shirt! He looks twice the size as everyone else. Mikey's been enjoying some long lunches too, judging on his appearance. I've nothing against people working out in the gym or putting on weight (I've done the same myself - albeit more of the latter than the former) but if you're going to reform a band whose popularity was based on physical attraction to girls and (some) boys and athleticism (can you imagine there's going to be many dance routines this time round?) you really need to look the part. That's the rule. Take That got that bit right - even Gary. Their reunion has been a success because they've got the look right and they've got the songs. It doesn't look like Boyzone have either..



Maybe I'm wrong but I think they're going to be looking at at a lot of empty seats in the coming months. I don't know where teenage girls' adoration of these groups go but when it goes, it's gone.. And unless you've got a really good plan, it's not coming back.

Now, when can we look forward to the East17 reunion?

Left red-faced

I'm sure he has better things to worry about today (like what to do with his £2.5 million payout from the FA) but don't you think the Guardian could've picked a better picture of Steve McClaren for their homepage today? I know he's not the best-looking man in the world but this one's a bit harsh..

Looks like Steve needs some of Smashbox' Colour Correcting Foundation Primer. It goes on green but works a treat for red faced football coaches!
There I go again - always trying to make life better for my fellow gingers..

End of an Era..

Bruce Springsteen has been touring the US for the last 2 months or so with the E Street Band. After touring solo and with his new band over the last few years, it's great to see him back with the gang that he'll forever be associated with. Most of them have been with him since the early to mid 70s. Some, like Danny Federici (above) and Garry Tallent, go back even further than that. In a recent interview he talked about his pride that of all the bands of his generation, the E Street Band have stood alone by avoiding the cliches of other rock bands and staying alive and staying together. No drug busts or stupid rock casualties with his mob. Right from teh beginning of his career, he's always said that they wanted to play for as long as they could and that they didn't buy into any of the 'live fast, die young' mythology that's been the curse of most of his contemporaries. That commitment to each other and their audience has resulted in the current tour being as exciting and vital as any that's come before it..

But eventually time catches up and your luck runs out. Yesterday Springsteen's website announced that Danny Federici, the band's organist is taking a leave of absence to receive treatment for melanoma. Rumours had been floating around the internet that he was going to be replaced for the European shows but nothing was official until yesterday. During the last few shows the band have been playing more and more of the songs that spotlight Danny and although nothing was ever said onstage, it was clear that there was something going on. Instead of making an announcement several weeks ago and letting the shows become a long goodbye, the band just did what they've always done best – go on stage and deliver the best 2 and a half hours that they possibly can. Then at the end of the show on Monday night, as the band took their final bows, Springsteen walked over to Danny, embraced him and led him to the centre of the stage where the audience and band could show him their love and appreciation..



I know I'm just a bit of a sentimental old goat but I found the whole thing very touching.. Let's hope he's back in the fold soon. Although, looking at the way the band are behaving you wouldn't bet on it, would you?

Oh - here's a performance of Kitty's Back from about 5 years ago that I've always meant to post up here. This seems like as good a time as any..

Ooops - nobody told me!

Finger Prince

Can you tell who this is? I’ve been a bit late reading about this but it seems Prince is trying to sue several of his fansites for using images of him without his permission. He’s thrown a little purple hissyfit because housequake.com, princefans.com and prince.org, have been using his images to promote some sort of web community to promote, let’s see, oh - Prince. Needless to say, the fansites have responded with incredulity and hopefully much laughter at the madness of it all. Actually they've formed an alliance called PFU (Prince Fans United) and are fighting back. And good for them. In a nerdish kinda way.

One of the articles I read claims he’s planning to ‘reclaim the internet’. Well good luck with that, Prince. Where’s he going to put the internet? He’s going to need a pretty big hard drive to keep that to himself! What next? Is he going to try to reclaim air or water or something?

Prince: 'Bring me all the water’.
Prince’s little helper: 'What? All the water? Where are you going to keep it?'
Prince: 'In the sea, of course. Where nobody can get at it.'
Prince’s little helper: 'Oh..'

Part of his problem is that he never gave permission for his image to be spread all over the web. Well that’s fair enough but I never gave permission for him to show up in my record shops or on my radio and tv. And nobody ever asked me if it was ok for the clown to come and play live in town but that decision was taken out of my hands too. So can’t we all just live and let live..

I don’t know where the image above (which obviously isn’t Prince - otherwise I could be in trouble) came from. I got it on a webiste but God knows (or in Prince’s case, Jehovah) where they got it. Worse than that though - I haven’t asked for anyone’s permission. I haven’t even told my mother. Although I might mention it when I call at the weekend.

This is a picture that Steve in London took when he went to see Prince in August. I got Steve's permission to use this but again, I haven’t talked to Prince. I hope I’m not getting Steve in trouble becuase I don’t think he got permssion to take the photo either. Oh - we’re all going to jail! Or else nothing is going to happen at all. Yes - I’m sure that’ll be it..

Actually in case Prince reads this and gets annoyed, Steve told me he was very good in the 02. Perhaps he should stick to that and stop biting the hand that’s feeding him..

Ahshadduppa Gervais!

I'm not sure whether or not to believe this report about Ricky Gervais having a go at Woody Allen. It was on breakingnews.ie this morning so it must be true! They got it from somewhere called starpulse. Is starpulse.com a good source? Maybe not. I'd like to think Gervais is a bit smarter than this. Michael in Prague sent me a link this morning of old Woody Allen interviews from the 70s and watching them earlier I was reminded of just how funny he was back then.. He's still pretty good now - his book of short stories, Mere Anarchy, is the funniest thing I've read this year. Of course some of it isn't funny at all but for the most part he's hitting the mark.

Anyway, apparently Ricky refused to be in Woody Allen's new film because he was unimpressed with the quality of his potential co-stars. According to Ricky, Woody Allen just isn't Woody Allen anymore. Well, now where do we start picking apart something like that. Given the vitriolic nature of Gervias' response to critics this year you'd think he'd have a bit more sense than to attack the funniest film maker of the last 40 years. I know I sometimes throw out comments like this on the blog (Bob Dylan being the most significant artist of the last 50 years is one. Frank Carter from Gallows not being the next is another) but seriously who else is there? Apart from Rob Schneider and Chevy Chase of course.

I went to see Stardust last week. It's as wooly as an Aran sweater factory and as lumpy as a bucket of porridge but I suppose it wasn't terrible. Far too long though (it's about 2 and a half hours, it felt like several days) and clearly under the misapprehension that it was some kind of epic quest when in fact it's a just a dodgy knock-off of the Princess Bride (rocky ground as far as I'm concerned). In the middle of it sat Ricky Gervais. He played some kind of market trader (Ferdy the Fence, I believe) engaged in a spot of bartering with Robert De Niro's cross-dressing air pirate (no, really). Anyway, Ricky did what Ricky always does but in the middle of it, in response to some nonsense or other, he exclaimed: "Are you having a laugh?". Wouldn't you think that he'd be trying to put as much distance between himself and that catchphrase? He probably thought he was being ironic but really you can only take irony so far, can't you? Funny that for someone who supposedly transformed British comedy by trying to get as far as possible away from the traditional sitcom format, it's starting to look like he's going to be remembered for a daft catchphrase and a silly dance. A bit like Frank Spencer or Manuel from Fawlty Towers. Now, that's irony!

Woody Allen may not be making funny films anymore (and I hear his next one, Cassandra's Dream, is particularly bleak) but at least he's still trying to make good films and doesn't seem to spend his spare time at home counting his awards and sniping about other people. Although given his, ahem, chequered past, perhaps we shouldn't really dwell on what he does at home for very long!

Bricking it

I love this. Somebody has gone to the trouble of creating little animated films of lego figures set to Eddie Izzard's stand-up comedy. There's lots of really great animation all over the place nowadays and we're all in awe of what the PIXAR people can do at the cinema but how great is it to see somebody being this inventive with such a clunky format?

There's lots of these videos on youtube so I'm just going to put up a couple of favourites..

Will gargle for money..

It's hard to be surprised by the lengths some people go to sell records, especially when they think no-one's looking. While the rest of us rejoice at all the hidden gems to be found on youtube, you have to imagine that a lot of singers and bands would rather that some of their appearances overseas had remained in the vaults.

Here's a couple of great examples from German tv. First we have Celine Dion gargling water to the tune of her hit single 'My Heart Will Go On'. You have to admire her for having a go. Incidentally I was looking at the press ads for her new album and tour at the weekend. How much work do we think she's had done? And if she hasn't had any, how much photoshoppery did it take to get her looking like that?



Second, there's a clip of laughing Leonard Cohen singing the much-covered Hallelujah sometime in the late 80s. Rather than throwing an artistic hissy fit, Len goes along with the producer's idea of having a children's choir hiding behind pillars waiting for their moment to join in.. It's not a great performance really but I love the kid hiding behind the pillar who sneaks his head around at about 35 seconds to see what's going on. And then he misses his queue!

Your own worst NME

I swear I only do this for the puntastic titles.

Anyway, anybody know who this is? Anyone? Nope - me neither. Rock magazine NME has just published its annual cool list and this cheeky fella is officially the coolest person in rock. I know it's an annual list because some of the lucky coolheads have a number beside their name indicating how cooler or warmer they are than this timne last year. Our friend here is Frank Carter from Gallows. Not that you'll need to remember it. As you can see from the list, below, Frank arrived from nowhere to arrive at the top of the list and I daresay he picked up a return ticket before starting his journey..

To save you the bother I've done a little bit of research into young Frank. According the the list, 2007 was the year that punk broke again (really? again? what's it been - about 10 minutes since it last broke?) and Frank led the charge. It then adds menacingly "It was blood at first sight..." Jesus - and he seems like such a nice young boy.

But then I started to read that Frank, or Frankie-boy, as his friends probably don't call him, has been having a hard time lately. It seems the blood spilling, punk-charging king of cool has been feeling the pressure of being the man of the moment. This is what he had to say at a recent show:

"I'm going to level with you guys, I was out there crying before because I don't know if I can do this any more," Carter declared from the stage. "I don't know if I can play for you cunts any more." "I was on the phone to my mum and I said, 'I've had enough of this shit'. My mum said to me, 'You're just like me, you care too much'," explained Carter, adding that Gallows would continue. "It's too important for us to quit."

Brings a tear to the eye doesn't it? You have to wonder what's going to happen to th poor lamb when he actualy starts to sell records and play big gigs. If he's cool now and nobody really knows him, well the only way is down, isn't it? How times change. When things were getting too much for Sid Vicious, punk's original trailblazer and (literally) blood-spiller, did he cry and call his mum? Actually he did, didn't he? But that was because he'd just killed his girlfriend (maybe) and needed heroin. And his good old mum did the right thing. She visited him, gave him his gear and he promptly died. I wonder did Sid ever get to the top of an NME list. I'm sure he must have. Still - it sounds like Frank needs to toughen up a bit.

Here's the Top 10. I've made up a couple for kicks.. Obviously I haven't made up Keith Richards at no.10. Nobody could make that up..

1. Frank Carter – Gallows
2. Jamie Reynolds – Klaxons (13)
3. Sexxyheels – Spank (10)
4. Ryan Jarman – The Cribs
5. Dirty Slax - The Growlers
6. Alex Turner – Arctic Monkeys (32)
7. Kate Nash
8. Amy Winehouse (50)
9. Kitty Kaht – The Fucknothings (1)
10. Keith Richards – The Rolling Stones (26)

Rub it in

It's been an interesting few weeks of new experiences.. In the last month or so I've gone to a solo jazz performance (Brad Meldhau in Vicar Street. It was good but I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I'd known beforehand that I wouldn't have to pay for my ticket - cheers Steve!), tested a ridiculous foot detoxifier thing (still not feeling any cleaner or better for it), paid to have my hair cut and styled by a professional using scissors as opposed to the usual wash & buzz I've been getting for years (nobody noticed the difference by the way. Bastards!) And as discussed elsewhere I gave blood for the first time recently. Incidentally I got my blood donor's card in the post the other day - my type is A RhD Positive. I'm happy with that - it sounds good. I like to think of it as 2 letters better than a PhD. And positive is good, isn't it? My blood is the glass half full variety. I don't think I could have chosen better if I had the chance.

Anyway, to that ever-growing list came another new experience last Friday. Before heading away to Cork and Tipperary for the weekend I went out to Clonee for my first massage. I've never really had an opinion about massages but a quick poll amongst friends revealed many differing opinions. Some swear by them while others can't get with all the touching and rubbing and revert to flinching wrecks at the first chance (I've always been a bit of a flincher, myself). But I had an opporunity to get one, it was costing me nothing (and unlike the jazz gig, I knew it was costing nothing before I took anything off) and I didn't see why I shouldn't give it a go. The closest I've ver come to getting a massage before was in Peru 2 years ago after Steve and I had walked the Inca Trail. There were lots of establishments in Cusco offering us all kinds of treatments and, ahem, relief packages (or should that be package relief) but we never got around to going. I think we were half worried that when they finished with us, they'd offer us a little something extra to send us home with a smile on our faces. Of course we were also half worried that when they finished they wouldn't offer us the same deal but let's not dwell on that..

So, the massage. Well first of all there was a questionnaire. Of course there was. You can't do anything anymore would someone asking you if you have Herpes or Diabetes or warts or Lumbago.. I think I liked the Blood people's questions a bit more. They suggested a life of irresponsibility and wreckless living, as opposed to one of chewed fingernails and acne. Give me unsafe sex with a hooker in Uganda instead of mangey skin every time. Although perhaps one leads to the other.. In any event, I think I fibbed on most of the questions. I didn't see what any of it had to with giving me a massage so I had some fun with it before moving on to the glossy magazines lying around the place..

When it was my turn, a pretty lady, I think it was Tracy, let me into a small room, handed me a towel and told me take my shirt off, lie face down on the table and put the towel over me. She said she'd give me a few minutes and left the room. I immediately saw a flaw and my mind started racing.. If I'm lying face down on a bench, how am I going to cover myself with the towel? And if my back is covered, is she going to massage me under the towel? Or over it? Surely not. And if I'm not covering my back, what am I covering? Am I supposed to be completely naked? Perhaps. But who wants to get that wrong? I didn't want Tracy coming in to find me lying face down in the altogether. Actually at this stage it had been so long since she left that I started to imagine Tracy coming back in with me in mid climb. Naked. Jesus - how can something so simple become so complicated? In the end I lay down on the bench with the towel by my side and waited for Tracey to come back and sort me out. In fact the towel was supposed to be tucked the towel into my jeans. I guess to stop the oils and whatnots from going where they weren't wanted..

Once she came back and started, I relaxed into it a little bit and let my face fall through the little hole in the bench. I was surprised to see when I looked through the hole that they had put a candle on the floor. Is that strange? I mean there was about a hundred candles in the room, I really didn't need to see another one. Then I got thinking that it wouldn't have killed them to put a newspaper or magazine on a stool under the hole. My arms could fit under the bench - I could have read while Tracy did her thing. Would that have been rude? I mean I was told it's a compliment if you fall asleep during a massage. Is it an insult if you do the crossword? I can't imagine she'd have minded.

A quick word about the massage itself. Well, it was wonderful. I loved the whole experience. It took me a while to get used to what was going on - as I said I'm a bit of a flincher - but once I settled into it I was loving it. I had a Reiki session before and while I didn't manage to shut off completely during the massage the way I did during Reiki, it was still blissfully relaxing. I lay there, chilling out, enjoying the peace and quiet and thinking about colleagues and friends who were rushing about their Friday business while I drifted off. Off in the distance I heard a bell sound but it didn't occur to me that it was a doorbell til Tracy stopped what she was doing and told me she'd be back in a minute. She went outside, leaving the door open and letting in a draught and some invasive bright lights. I could hear her having a bit of a ding-dong with a woman who was coming in looking for a nail appointment. The woman had a child with her who was looking for sweets and I heard the mother scolding the child while Tracy tried to look after her. I've got to say it broke the mood a bit. I don't know if they have a receptionist in there or what was going on but I don't think a masseuse should be walking out mid-stroke.. Look - suddenly I'm the expert! Anyway, the exchange went on for about 90 seconds before Tracy came back.. In a way it didnt really matter if she came back at all. By then the mood was broken and I couldn't relly relax again.

Tracy worked away for about 5 minutes and then broke away to wash up a fresh towel to put on my back. She left it on me and told me that we were finished and I could have a few minues to relax and get dressed. She left and once again my mind started to race. How long do I have? Should I just lie here? If I just lie here am I supposed to sleep? What if I fall asleep? Can I wash up? Can they play any music other than pan-pipes? In the end I lay there with my eyes open looking through the hole in the bench and wondering what to do. So I did what anyone would do in the same position. I tried to blow out the candle that was flickering away on the floor under the bench. I gave it my best shot, moving my position, varying the pressure of my breath and trying to create a wind shield with the towel that was no longer tucked in to my jeans. In the end I failed, and I grumpily gathered up my belongings and left the room. Stopping to stoop and blow the candle out as I left.

That'll teach them to interupt my massage.. Very enjoyable all the same. Not sure I'd rush back to there (it's a little bit out of the way) but I'll definitely have another massage. I like the idea of Hot Stones. Or deep tissue. Maybe I'm not ready for that though..

Stop it!

In terms of over-using an expression in general conversation, is anyone else sick of people saying 'in terms of'? I was listening to the radio this morning and the presenters and reporters couldn't ask or answer a question without throwing 'in terms of' at the wall several times.. It's all over the BBC as well at the moment. I don't know when it started but it seems to have overtaken 'at the end of the day', 'literally' and 'amaaaaazing' in terms of words and expression that are being flogged to death at the moment.

Drive on

Ok - I've hung in as long as I can on this one but I give up now.. Does anybody know what the rules are regarding provisional drivers in this country?

The reaction to the news that the government has decided to try to enforce the laws about provisional drivers has been hilarious. The face that they climbed down as quickly as they did is not so funny.. I have real sympathy for learner drivers who need their car for work. And I've got as much sympathy for learner drivers who are genuinely trying to get their full licence but there's a lot of chancers out there who have never sat a drving test and have no intention of doing so. They're the ones who've repsonded to the news of the clampdown with outrage and indignation. One corresepndent to the Irish Independent the other day claimed that it was provisional drivers who were responsible for Fianna Fail wininng the last election. Really?

I think Noel Dempsey was very foolish if it thought he could change the rules overnight and not expect the reaction he got. It may have been ill-advised but I like that he's showing willing and hopefully the opposition will get off his back and see if he can really do something about the problem in the timeline he's suggested.

Anyway, I've exhausted myself on the topic over the weekend so I'll shut up for now. However can we all agree that people who have put their L plates upside down should have their licences cancelled? It's a bit of an epidemic in this town. If the driver of this car doesn't know up from down, should they really be let loose on the road?

Slept it off..

Rubbish! Tried that toxic cleanser stuff last night and felt the very same when I woke up this morning. Althoguh in its defence the plaster thingy that I put on my feet had turned from white to a dirty murky brown so maybe there's something in it..

It may have been optimistic to expect several weeks overindulgence to be cleansed over the course of 7 hours sleep.

Still - I may stick to the water, fruit and vegetable approach from here on. That never fails..

Sleep it off..

Been away for a few days and haven't been on top of the blog at all. I've lots to talk about when I get a minute.

So I spent the weekend in Tipperary and Cork overeating, over-drinking and genrerally overindulging.. Now it's the end of the long weekend and the there's about 4 or 5 weeks before the Christmas silliness will start to kick in so I'm going to try a little healthy detox..

To help me on my way, I'm going to give this a lash tonight. I picked it up over the weekend after me massage (no, really) and it's supposed to draw out all the toxins in my body through my feet. Overnight. Sounds like bollox to me but we'll give it a go in the name of research.. There's a magic silver bag sachet that I'm supposed to put on an adhesive strip and then put the whole thing on the soles of my feet. As I sleep the Agarikus Mushroom, Eucalyptus tree vine and Tourmaline Bio Stone will do the trick. According to the (lovely) packaging, this product has been tested on the Toxic Twins so that's ok.

Wait - didn't they used to call Steven Tyler and Joe Perry from Aerosmith the Toxic Twins? Well who doesn't want to look like them?! So, I'm going toput this stuff on in a minute and hopefully I'll wake up fresh faced and energised in the morning. Or not...

Would you buy a used car from this man?

I have no problem with this. Not surprisingly Dylan is taking a bit of a hammering for appearing in this new ad for Cadillac. Cue lots of commentators bleating about selling-out. As if he didn't do that years and years ago. The fact that he's doing it to promote his own radio show too doesn't seem to be buying him much slack. I dunno - does Dylan's position as the most signifcant artist of the last 50 years (I know that's debatable but who else comes close?) suffer because he does a commercial for a car? Is his credibility really at risk because he appeared in a commercial for Victoria's Secret?

In this longer version of the ad, which is more of a tie-in with his radio show than a commerical, Dylan claims, "You know what's even better than a great road tune? Not having some DJ talking all over it. Unless, of course, that DJ is me." Now, I just think that's funny.

Is doing an ad for a car company more or less an act of artistic bankruptcy than releasing yet another cash-in compilation album, as Dylan did recently? Or several terrible live albums of barely recognisable old songs? Or performing hundreds of lousy shows under the influence of booze, drugs or with contempt for your audience? I'm not so sure any of these things are influenced by artistic pursuits as much as they are by financial pursuits. And as long as people are prepared to hand over cash for them I've no problem with that either..

As far as I know, there's no sponsorship of his radio shows. There's certainly no ads during it a from those vintage ads he sometimes plays for products that no longer exist) so why shouldn't the producers try to make a bit of cash to keep the show on the air and pay for a few mint juleps? The shows are so good that Dylan could start making ads for Cillit Bang and I still wouldn't care.. "Hi I'm Bob Dylan..."

Ultiamtely it's all about making a buck. Salvador Dali went on What's My Line and Orson Wells did commericals for frozen food but nobody seems to mind now. When Dylan dies, do you think anyone will care about a Cadillac commercial? By the way, if you've never listened to this clip of Orson Wells recording a frozen peas commerical, you really should. Who'd want to be the writer or director dealing with him that day..

And while we're at it I've got no problem with these either.. Although Bob's is way cooler than Macca's..

A fate better than death?

All this talk in the papers about Steve 'Stan' Staunton's position as Irish manager is making me laugh a bit. I keep hearing and reading that today is the day a decision will be made on his future and he's expected to pay the ultimate price for failure. Now call me pedantic, but isn't the ultimate price usually death? And not an €800,000 pay-off and a few 'another fine mess you've got us into' headlines in the tabs. He really must be hurting today..

If the punishment for failing to beat the likes of Cyprus at home really was death, perhaps we'd have seen a bit more commitment to the cause on Wednesday night..

But hey - let's not waste time talking about football. As someone who's been accused of bearing more than a passing resemblance to Staunton, I'll be glad to see the back of him!

A pint of your finest..

Alright - I've been warned not to go on about this too much but I really can't let the opportunity pass without reporting that I gave blood last week for the first time. I'd been to the clinic once before about 6 years ago. The company I worked for at the time organised a bus to come and take several of us down to D'Olier Sreet to give up a pint of the red stuff. We all rolled in and, one-by-one, realised that for a variety of reasons, including foreign nationality, recent illnesses, iron deficiency, unprotected sex with dubious characters and regular, enthuiastic consumption of various class A drugs, we wouldn't be able to donate. I won't say what my excuse was but let me assure you that there's never been a problem with my iron levels!

So, I went in last Thursday evening and filled out the questionnaire they give you when you arrive. There's lots of questions about drug use, medical history and general well-being etc. to consider. You have to answer no to all the questions. Which is easy because nobody would ever say yes to any of them! Not to a stranger at least. If the answer to any of the questions was yes, I think I'd just bin the form and run for the hills. No need to let a middle-aged woman know what you've been up to.. As it was, I was brought into a consultation room where a man looked at my form and asked me all the questions again. As if I might answer the question 'have you had unprotected sex with someone who has paid for sex in the last 12 months' any differently the second time around. Unless, of course, they think you might have odne it in the time you were waiting between completing the form and having the consultation. It's possible I guess.

So after I passed the test, I was taken into a room where my blood was tested for iron content (or something - I wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying) and then I was led into the Bloody Chamber. Actually that's not what it was called but I thought it sounded better. The woman taking blood out of me didn't laugh though.. They took my blood pressure first which was good, I think. 100 over 60. That's good, isn't it? After that they tried to find a vein which was a bit of an effort. I've never been the veiniest of boys really - although the same can't be said for me being the vainest of boys, a title for which I've been competing aggressively for some time now. In the end, they gave up on my left arm, moved on to the right and hit gold. Or blood, I suppose. And that was it. I was given a little dog toy (but not a toy dog, which might have been fun) to exercise my fist, told not to cross my legs (which seemesed a bit silly - but I guess it's really important) and spend about 10 minutes chating to a lovely woman about rugby and tennis. Two subjects that I dont really have 10 minutes worth of chitterchatter going spare. Still - i held in and waited patiently while she extracted a pint of really red blood from my right arm. I'm sure everyone says that their blood seems really dark but it did.. Much darker than when you cut a finger or something.

Afterwards I went off to the little canteen and had chocolate and Guinness. They actually give you Guinness. I thought that was a bit of a myth but they really did. In a way I was worried Id be one of those people who faints after they give blood but afterwards I was a little put out that I felt fine. I was hoping for some kind of wooziness or something. Just for kicks really. But no, I felt fine throughout. It really is quite painless. I'm actually a little embarassed that it took me this long to give blood. I expect I'll be back sooner rather than later. I'm going to find out this week what kind of blood I've got. I hope it's something rare. I expect it won't be though.


Actually, if anyone from the Blood Transfusion Board is reading (you never know - someone claiming to be from Dublin Port posted last week!), I have to give them top marks for the operation in there. I know that it's their job to make people feel good and well looked after but they're really doing great work.

Go on - drop in some time and give them a pint. You'll feel better and, more importantly, so will someone else.

Squirreled Away

I was up in the Botanic Gardens on Saturday and it was overrun with these little feckers. It was the same up in the Phoenix Park last week. I dunno - I think this buggers have been getting by on their cuteness for too long. It seems I'm not the only one.

Maybe it's because I'm a redhead that I feel like I have to stick up for my squirrel brothers but clearly these grey bullys have been pushing their luck lately. And they're killing the trees and knocking over birdfeeders too (although in fairness that doesn't sound like the most heinous offence).

Not sure that this is the answer though.. Squirrel, egg and chips, anyone?

Some films

Spoiler Alert!!

Kings is the Irish language version of Jimmy Murphy's play 'The Kings of the Kilburn High Road' and if you didn't know it was a play going in, you'd probably have guessed by the time it ended. In the late 1970s, six friends leave Connemara and travel to London in search of work, fortune and a few jars. Jumping forward to 2007, we find that while they all managed to find work of one kind or another - at least for a while, only one has found any kind of fortune. However, all of them, of course, have managed to find a few jars. And a few after that.. One of the 6 has died, having supposedly slipped onto the tracks and under an oncoming tube and the remaining 5 come together for his funeral. Simmering resentments between the 5 old friends come to the fore over the course of a drunken wake in the back room of their local boozer.. It's a hard old film to get through and there's not a lot of laughs to be had. Which is to say that there's no laughs to be had whatsoever. But it's nice to see a mostly accomplished Irish film, even if it's a little stagey by times..

Speaking of accomplished Irish films, Garage has arrived in Irish cinemas weighed down with ecstatic reviews and glowing recommendations. I'm not so sure.. It’s a slight enough story about Josie, a simple-minded garage attendant in a small Irish village. Josie lives along, has no family and is the butt of most people’s jokes. His boss sends a surly 15 year-old to work in the Garage with Josie and gradually they get to know each other. Josie buys drinks for the young lad and his friends and, in return, the teenagers let Josie hang around with them.. Eventually, Josie makes a foolish misjudgement that sets a sequence of events in motion that leads to a heartbreaking conclusion. Nothing happens quickly in Garage but what does happen is credible and happens at its own pace. Pat Shortt is terrific as Josie but I’m not sure the film is the masterpiece that many claim it to be. It does seem that that every few years an Irish film arrives on our screens to much praise but is quickly forgotten. I can’t help feeling that Garage may suffer the same fate. Irish critics tend to operate a policy of ‘shower with praise first and ask questions later’ when it comes to films. Still, for all that, Garage is well worth a look..

And then there was Control, Anton Corbijn’s much praised biopic of Joy Division’s Ian Curtis who died aged 23 in 1980. It’s a great-looking film and I’m finding it hard to think of much that’s wrong with it. I suppose if you’ve no interest in the story then it might be a bit of a slog. In fairness though, I’ve never had much time for Joy Division’s music but I was taken along by the energy and excitement of a new band making music and finding an audience. And then the realisation amongst the band members that Curtis’ epilepsy and depression was in danger of undoing their potential.. I read recently that none of the band really took his depression too seriously and never thought he might harm himself. One can only wonder what might have happened if they could have helped him. Although I suppose they were just kids.. Sam Riley, a musician with little acting experience is terrific as Curtis, overcome with guilt about his failed relationships, anxiety about his growing fame and fear over his epileptic attacks. Samantha Morton, perhaps the finest English actor of the day, is completely believable as Debbie, Curtis’ wife. The film has been based on Debbie Curtis’ book, Touching From a Distance, and Morton manages to find the right balance in her portrayal of Debbie from teenage girlfriend to wife and mother, capturing the loss of innocence and optimism as Curtis isolates her and pushes her aside. And the scene where she comes home to find Curtis body is extraordinary. It’s shot from outside the house and is held together by her performance alone and she does a fantastic job with it. It’s also worth saying that, for a film dealing with depression and suicide, there’s a lot of humour too. Obviously any film with Tony Wilson as a main character is going to have a few laughs at his expense, but Toby Keppell deserves a nod for his humourous portrayal of Rob Bretton, Joy Division’s manager. In fact in a film that’s going to bring a lot of attention to Sam Riley and Samantha Morton for their performances, I think Keppell very quietly was the star of the show..

And the soundtrack is fantastic!

And finally, The Counterfeiters.. What a grim, challenging and ambiguous film this is.. In 1936, Salomon ‘Sally’ Sorowitsch, a Jewish criminal, known throughout the underworld as the greatest forger in Germany is arrested by Inspector Herzog of the Berlin Fraud Squad. Salomon is sent to a concentration camp where his illustrations and pictures of guards earn him special privileges. Eventually he is moved to a special wing in the Sachsenhausen camp where Herzog, his captor years earlier, is ruuning a top secret forgery unit, Operation Bernhard. Salomon is put in charge of a team of artists, printers and bankers who’ve been plucked from various camps and instructed to produce forgeries of foreign currency, specifically sterling and dollars. The unit are housed separately to all the other prisoners and are given luxury motivational treats like bedsheets and a ping pong table. Salomon and the inmates are left with a choice. Do they produce the forgeries that will be flooded into the market and prolong the Nazi war effort or do they try to sabotage the operation risking their own lives. This isn’t some kind of heroic Escape to Victory caper though. The choices are real and complicated and the hero of the film, we have to remind ourselves, is a criminal after all. He’s struggling to decide what’s the right thing to do and what’s the criminal thing to do. His instinct is to produce the greatest forgeries of all time but to say he's conflicted would be putting it mildly. He wants to stay alive while some of his colleagues, particularly Burger, a Communist printer whose wife has been killed trying to escape from Aushwitz, are prepared to give up their lives in order to sabotage the Nazi plan. When the war ends, the prisoners in the forgery unit have to justify themselves and their actions to the other prisoners that have been living in atrocious conditions just yards away.

The Counterfeiters is a riveting film about morality and life and death decisions. Was Salomon a hero? Did he do the right thing? Did he betray his country or save his unit? I'm still not sure that I know and I’ve been trying not to think too much about what I'd do in the same situation..

Incidentally, and here's the spoiler, all these films feature suicides of varying importance to the plot. That's 4 in a row. It's time for some comedies!

Go on - tell us what you really think.

Had to laugh at this report from breakingnews this morning.. So another truck drives into a bridge in town and screws up rush hour traffic for everyone. I love the quote from Iarnród Éireann's spokesman. A man who clearly isn't interested in mincing his words anymore..

Iarnród Éireann has described the truck driver responsible for this morning's incident as an "idiot" who failed to check his height and his route.

"The bridges around the Grand Canal Dock area are visibly very low," a spokesman said. "It takes a peculiar type of moron not to be aware of that."

Now there's a man who's prepared to say what the rest of us are thinking.

And what's with these dodgy drivers? The poor old Dice Bar still hasn't re-opened since a bin lorry drove into the side of the it while trying to avoid an oncoming tram..

Destructive criticism

These ads for Dublin Port started appearing in newspapers a couple of months ago.There's a lot of good work being produced in design, illustration and advertising these days and occasionally some bad work. Bad doesn't come close to describing this stuff though. Previously I'd only seen the Joyce and Behan versions but this morning I spotted the Beckett one on a bus shelter. I did a bit of research when I got into the office and discovered that there's another 4 to come. And they're getting worse. The illustrations are terrible, the colours make me queasy and the hierarchy of the text is all over the place. There's no consistency in the message that's being communicated and even the copy itself (with the exception of the extracts from the writers themselves) looks like it was written by a 12 year old. From Lithuania. No offence intended to any Lithaunian readers..

According to the blurb over on Dublin Port's website, The campaign reacquaints Dubliners with the humour, wit, irreverence, vision, and insight which has endeared these Irish writers not only to the Irish but to the world at large. Dublin Port Company’s aim is also to capture the imagination of the travelling public and to encourage them to follow in the footsteps of these great writers. The campaign will bring Irish writers to the public in a new, more accessible way.

Weaving these portraits together with some of their famous quotes we see that Art, Literature and Sea travel can be combined for a great textured life.

Yeah, that's great and all but why are the illustrations so bad? And why is there no consistent message? And why is there a need to tell us that Oscar Wilde spent several years in the closet? I haven't seen bad work on this large a scale for some time.. I don't like to put people down and God knows there's lots of bad work that we could pick on but I mean, look at these..

Mommie Dearest

I mean, really? Who swings a child by the ankles? "It was not immediately clear what sentence she could receive." Well, no - I wouldn't think there's been much precedent on this one..

Outta the way, skippy!

Clever men, clever words..

I've only discovered today that Stephan Fry has a blog. And what a fantastic discovery! I shouldn't be surprised. The following paragraph is from a long essay, or blessay as he calls it, about Fame. Why we crave it, what it means to be famous, what it means to not be famous and so on. And on. It's quite long but well worth a look. The section I'm pasting here is his response to frequently being asked 'What fame's like?'

"Is it fun? Or, as student journalists always ask, what’s it like? ‘What’s it like working with Natalie Portman, what’s it like doing QI, what’s it like being famous?’ I don’t know what it is like. What is being English like? What is wearing a hat like? What’s eating Thai red curry like? I don’t believe that I can answer any question formulated that way. So, student journalists, tyro profilers and rooky reporters out there, seriously, quite seriously never ask a ‘what’s it like’ question, it instantly reveals your crapness. I used to try getting surreal when asked the question and say things like ‘being famous is like wearing blue pyjamas at the opera. It’s like kissing Neil Young, but only on Wednesdays. It’s like a silver disc gummed to the ear of a wolverine. It’s like licking crumbs from the belly of a waitress called Eileen. It’s like lemon polenta cake but slightly wider. It’s like moonrise on the planet Posker.’ I mean honestly. What’s it like?? Stop it at once."

I also found this link yesterday on the Word website. It's a list of the 10 most incomprehensible Bob Dylan interviews of all time.. I've watched a few of them and, really, you don't need to waste your time, but I did laugh when I read his account on why he decided to become a star..

"Carelessness. I lost my one true love. I started drinking. The first thing I know, I'm in a card game. Then I'm in a crap game. I wake up in a pool hall. Then this big Mexican lady drags me off the table, takes me to Philadelphia. She leaves me alone in her house, and it burns down. I wind up in Phoenix. I get a job as a Chinaman. I start working in a dime store, and move in with a 13-year-old girl. Then this big Mexican lady from Philadelphia comes in and burns the house down. I go down to Dallas. I get a job as a "before" in a Charles Atlas "before and after" ad. I move in with a delivery boy who can cook fantastic chili and hot dogs. Then this 13-year-old girl from Phoenix comes and burns the house down. The delivery boy — he ain't so mild: He gives her the knife, and the next thing I know I'm in Omaha. It's so cold there, by this time I'm robbing my own bicycles and frying my own fish. I stumble onto some luck and get a job as a carburetor out at the hot-rod races every Thursday night. I move in with a high school teacher who also does a little plumbing on the side, who ain't much to look at, but who's built a special kind of refrigerator that can turn newspaper into lettuce. Everything's going good until that delivery boy shows up and tries to knife me. Needless to say, he burned the house down, and I hit the road. The first guy that picked me up asked me if I wanted to be a star. What could I say?"

That's it - I'm done! Take away my keyboard!

The Last Waltz

It took me a long time to figure out The Band. I got a Best Of many years ago that I couldn't get to grips with at all but a few years ago I picked up The Last Waltz on DVD and it all fell into place. If you haven't seen it, you really should. I know it looks like a bunch of old crusty beardies (actually at the time I think they were younger than I am now!) singing strange songs about civil war veterans and alcoholic gamblers but there's so much to enjoy from the music and old road stories to the special guests (Van the Man!), not to mention the set design and Martin Scorcese's direction. You can pick it up for less than the price of 2 pints in town. I watched it again last night and have spent a bit of time this evening looking at other clips online..

Anyway, at Robbie Robert's instigation, it was supposed to be their last gig but the rest of them carried on for many years afterwards without him. Looking at footage on youtube it's kinda pathetic to see what became of them. Even after Richard Manuel killed himself in 1986, the others limped on without him through the 90s like a once-great fighter who's been beaten too many times but just doesn't know how to stop..

In the film, Rick Danko is the star of the show. Boyish good looks, pots of nervous energy (enhanced by drugs, I supppose) and the best voice in a band that was blessed with not one, but three great singers. And a fantastic musician of course. There's a heartbreaking sequence where he's interviewed by Scorcese in the months after the concert. Scorcese asks him what he's been doing since the last show and it becomes clear that apart from working on a solo record that was never going to amount to anything, he hadn't been doing much at all. As much as Robertson was sick of touring, it seemed that Danko and the others needed to be out on the road. I never got to see him - he played in Whelans shortly before he died in 1999 and I've always wished I'd gone to see him.. Tragic is probably pushing it a bit but it does seem a great shame that most of the artists that were guests at The Last Waltz - Dylan, Neil Young, Van Morrison, Eric Clapton, Joni, Neil Diamond (eeek!), Emmylou Harris etc. are all still going strong but the musicians they were there to honour are either dead or long forgotten..

Anyway, in the film Robertson talks about why he was quitting touring. He says something about life on the road being an impossible life and he was getting out before it killed him. Look at this clip of Rick singing It Makes No Difference 20 years after singing the same song at The Last Waltz and you can't really blame him. Danko died in his sleep 2 years later. A real shame.

Clery's clock at 8pm

I had some broken phone issues at the weekend and instead of endless texts saying 'where are you now?' and 'i'll be there in 10 minutes' I had to go back to the old way of meeting people. Which is to say I had to nominate a location and a time and then show up at said location at the agreed time. I believe that sometime in the last century that's how people met up and arranged things..

Seriously, it was a revelation. I'm not suggesting for a second that i'm prepared to chuck out the phone or anything like that but for a day or so it was a kick to not have to rely on it for constant updates and pointless jabbering.. And nobody does pointless jabbering like I do!

There's beauty everywhere..

I was in a taxi the other heading into town. I don't normally take taxis during the day as it always seems a bit of a shame not to get the exercise instead but we were running late and I had no way to contact the person I was meeting.. So we jumped into the first cab i saw and told the smelly old man driving the smelly old car where we needed to go.

On we went and since we were chatting in the back, we weren't paying much attention to the driver other than to note that he was listening to some sort of power ballads compilation album. You know the sort - Winds of Change, Total Eclipse of the Heart, that sort of thing. Anyway, Jennifer Rush's The Power of Love came on and after we stopped talking for a moment I realised he was singing along. But instead of belting it out like La Rush did, he was singing very slowly and deliberately under his breath. Try imagining the broad Dublin accent of Ronnie Drew mixed with the whispery, economy of Leonard Cohen's delivery. And then drop it several octaves.

When he worked up to the bit about 'The sound of your heart beating, made it clear suddenly. The feeling that I can't go on is light-years away' I was almost in floods! I said almost.. Funny how on the right day, in the right weather (it was a lovely sunny Saturday) you can find beauty in the strangest places..

Made me laugh..

This is an ad that's been running on tv here for the last year or so for the Financial Regulator.

And this is a bunch of messers on the bus.. They may have been drinking but there's something to admire in it..

Home Thoughts from Cabra

Clair over at theurbanwoo pointed me in the direction of this last week and it's set me off.. We used to have Home Thoughts at home when I was a nipper. My sisters are responsibe for most of the music I loved as a kid and, as a result, a lot of the music I love as an adult. I don't remember us having many records at home but the ones we did have are stuck in my head forever. Even though I haven't listened to them for years, I still know them all inside and out.. That's albums like Chris De Burgh's Spanish Train, Meat Loaf's Bat out of Hell, Dan Fogelberg's The Innocence Age and others. There was a live Glen Campbell record that got a lot of airtime too. I remember a guy called Bertie Higgins who had a song called Key Largo. It used a lot of ropey Bogart and Bacall imagery. Cheesey as the cheese counter in Sheridans but I loved it then and I'm sure if I heard it now I'd still love it! Actually I feel like I've just my sisters a bitof a disservice. It wasn't all MOR rubbish when I was a kid. Thanks to them I was also turned on, at an early age to David Bowie, Simon & Garfunkel, Elvis, Springsteen and lots of other stuff. So, thanks..

I've been watching a lot of those old clips tonight and most of them don't really hold up anymore but Home Thoughts From Abroad is a different beast altogether. Go on - ignore his awkwardness, his anti-stage presence and give it 3 minutes of your time.. It's beautiful.

Oh - I just found Key Largo on youtube. It's absolutely wretched. I'm sure it's not the version I remember from 25 years ago but I can't bring myself to link it. You'll judge me!

Those were the days..

I picked up a great old Dublin guidebook in town the other day. Published in 1972, Essential Dublin promises to tell visitors and locals all they need to know Dublin.. Such as how to survive on a shoestring or how to live it up in pubs, discotheques and sauna baths! Sauna baths?! Anyway, it's a bit of a hoot and interesting to see how much things have changed and how much things haven't changed at all.

In the introductions and throughout the book, there's lots of bleating on about all the new affluence in the city and how the great old buildings are being torn down in the name of progress. Values are being ignored and those wretched young people are spoilt rotten.. Didn't I just read that in the paper today?

The section on the best pubs in the city is interesting.. Here's a list of the best pubs in Dublin in 1972. The Palace Bar, Doheny & Nesbitts, O'Briens on Leeson Street, The Stage's Head and The Long Hall. All still standing today and all still the best pubs in Dublin. The Long Hall is described as "the glittering lights, mirrors, lamps should classify it as kitschy but somehow the whole mixture works, making itone of the most attractive pubs anywhere" It doesn't sound like it's changed a bit in 35 years. I'd imagine the author's heart would've been warmed to see everything around it being pulled down and rebuilt a few years ago while the Longer was left untouched.

Good to see also that in 1972 "no pubs are barred to women though there is an unstated convention that women use the lounge bar if there is one" It doesn't say what women should do if there isn't a lounge. Go home and wait for the 80s, I suppose..

Eye-Eye

Has it really been 3 weeks? Where does the time go? Same place as my hair, as Bill Bryson said.. Anyway, I lost my old glasses 3 weeks ago and only got replacements during the week. I guess I put off getting new ones until I was sure that the old ones weren't coming back. So after staring into a screen all day in the office, I've been avoiding the laptop at home - hence no recent updates.. But - Amazing Grace - I was blind but now can see..

These are the new glasses - a bit 'media bastard' I know, but why fight it, eh?

So, hopefully normal service has been resumed.

Which leads me to this...

Time well spent

It's mostly been a lazy weekend round Connolly Towers. The last few weeks have been a bit hectic between work stuff and house stuff so it's been good to have a bit of down time for a change. I went for a few long walks in the park this weekend in anticipation of my long awaited return to jogging. That'll probably be Tuesday morning so I expect to be limping heavily by Tuesday night. Other than that, I spent yesterday in town (lunch in the Stag's Head - the best value toasty in Dublin) and watched far too much bad tv last night. When I wasn't busy doing nothing I managed to catch a couple of films - 2 Days in Paris and Atonement.

2 Days in Paris, Julie Delpy's exercise in over-achievement (she wrote, stars, directed, produced and wrote the score), is well worth a look. She's a photographer visiting Paris with her American boyfriend en route to New York. Over the course of the 2 days they meet her parents (Delpy's real-life parents, of course), argue, have sex, talk about sex, bump into several of her ex-boyfriends, insult taxi drivers, visit Jim Morrison's grave, go to galleries and parties and, eventually, break up. It works best in the first hour when her boyfriend, Adam Goldberg, has to deal with her suspicious parents, her openly lusty exes, and the rising paranoia that he's just another boyfriend who'll be replaced and forgotten at a moment's notice. As he says himself: "the least romantic day in the history of Paris". Sure, it's treading similar ground to Before Sunset and it owes more than a little to Annie Hall and Manhattan (at various points in the film, Julie Delpy resembles both Woody Allen and Diane Keaton) but it's got buckets of charm, wit and insight. Well, perhaps not buckets of insight. Ultimately, it loses its way a little bit as the film moves into the final third and the relationship becomes more fraught, but there's more than enough in it to justify 90 minutes of anyone's time.

Here's the trailer


Atonement is fantastic. A bit like The Bourne Ultimatum, which I saw last week, there's really not much more I can add to all the great reviews it's been getting. But apart from all the love and tragedy there's a fantastic 5 or 6 minute sequence when James McEvoy gets to Dunkirk that has to be seen to be believed. It's a continuous tracking shot as he walks along the beach surrounded by hundreds of extras brawling, singing and vomiting all around him. I don't know how the director managed it and it was probably digitally assisted but God, it was impressive. As was the whole film. And yes, there were tears at the end!