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31 July 2012
R. Linda:
First, my excuse, then my story: Relatives can drive you to drink!
OK. Now that that is out of me system, I will begin.
I have a complaint about me trip to Ireland last. Usually, this wouldn't bother me, but let me start with this: From breakfast to dinner, me entire day was spent with me in-laws. You know they drive me up a pole, and I can usually get away for a few hours to revive my sanity. But in Ireland, they were with me pretty much 24/7. I was inundated with the Abdullah clan until I wanted to shout me fool head off. But if I did that, the men in white coats would come, so I had to find another outlet. And I did. I used the old Irish standby, go to a pub.
I found a way that I could escape the relatives. Yes, I did. I'd walk to a local village for a much-needed beverage of a strong variety to bolster meself to face the next day. I'd do this while they were napping, but more often than not, I'd do it when they were officially in bed for the night. I would not drink in the castle pubs because the relatives had a way of finding me if I did. To get away from them, I'd walk to the village pub without telling anyone. But many times I found the pubs closed! This one-man journey was usually late at night when I hoped the relatives were sleeping. You cannot imagine the disappointment of getting to a pub relative-free and finding the doors locked and the lights out.
The problem being, that there are certain hours an imbibing establishment can be open on the old sod. On a weekday, drinks are served until 11:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday, they close at 12:30 a.m., and Sunday, it be 11:00 p.m. But some pubs have what are called a late license and they close at 2:30 a.m. All this can be somewhat disconcerting when one is overcome with relatives, and one would like to drown the thought process in good Irish beer or whiskey to whisk away any memory of relatives entirely. My problem was once whisked away, I had to find my way back to the castle I snuck out of. And, not being in a sober condition, remembering what direction one must return to was a bit of a dilemma. Add to that, if I was caught drunk, I'd be thrown in the nick since it is an offence to be intoxicated in public (a minor bothersome technicality that). I had one heck of a night at Ashford Castle in particular (in the woods, after having drunk a considerable amount in the town of Cong after a relatively chocked day). I wandered around until near dawn, trying to find my way back. There were no lights, you see, so wending one's way through dark trees in the middle of the night . . . well, things didn't look the same as they did when I first came from the castle.
Usually, my trek to the village pub was not a worry that I'd be there with enough time on weekdays to establish brain death by drink, but Fridays and Saturdays were not a problem. Sunday, oh begorrah, that was just the worst, and Sunday is the day that a lot of shops are closed or attractions are crowded and once back from all that excitement with relatives being in close proximity all day, one really, really needs to imbibe and imbibe BIG. I be sorry Holy Hour is banished where the pubs are all closed on Sunday from 2 to 4 (unless you happened to be inside then you could stay, but no one else could get in; not bad if the relatives find you. They have to sit outside while you drink their memory away. By the time they can be let in, you won't recognise a single one). This would have been a great way to keep me sanity on Sundays and at the same time get a breather from them all. But no, Holy Hour be a thing of the past. Sigh.
What to do? I did find, in one instance, I could get me a taxi and be driven to a large city where I could not be found easily. I could find a late licensed pub without fear of being disturbed in my trip to oblivion. The only trouble with that was the clubs let out at the same time as the pubs, and getting a taxi back was not an easy feat. The one time I did this, I walked most of the way back until a man and his hay truck came along. I hitched a ride. When I returned to the castle I was staying at, I was covered in hay and the doorman mistook me for the stable boy. It was embarrassing so we'll let it rest at that.
I often had to forgo the pleasure of the big city late-night drinking and rely on a nearby village with an early closing hour. Of course, you can tack on the 30-minute drink-up time before they throw your arse out the door and milk that a bit.
Thank the powers that be, there were no holidays the entire time I was saddled with in-laws because the pubs close for some holidays. That means the next recourse is finding a package store, hoping there would be some liquor left on the island after the usual holiday run. Then, stocking up and sitting in the woods by one's lonesome, singing loudly to keep the leprechauns away. I know the castles would still be serving, but like I say, RELATIVES, they can easily catch a glimpse of your arse settled on a bar stool in your cups, and then what good would that do? However, if all else fails, I could catch a train. They continuously serve liquor on trains and ride up and down the countryside, but with me luck, I'd probably get off at the wrong stop or, worse, end up somehow in Scotland.
I know I sound like an alcoholic, but usually I'm not; I am addicted to coffee, as you well know. But if you had the relatives I have, you'd do the same. I remember the Ashford Castle foray through the woods. Yes, I do. I started over the moat and towards the Village of Cong, thinking I had outsmarted the in-laws. I was extremely happy, and I had a wonderful time at the pub (see photo below), but on the way back, it was sketchy in those dark woods. So I started singing, yes, I did.
I sang softly the following as I looked about me and over my shoulder: (If you'd like to sing along, my little ditty is to the tune of Downtown)
When you're alone, and the relatives are making you lonely
You can always go - to Pub Town
When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry
Seems to help, I know - Pub Town
Just listen to the music of the traffic in the village
Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are saying 'DRINKS here'
How can I lose?
Then, because I thought I heard an animal and to scare it, I sang a little louder:
The lights are much brighter there
I can forget all me troubles, forget all the relatives
So go to Pub Town, things'll be great when I'm at
Pub Town - no finer place, for sure
Pub Town - Jameson waiting for me
Pub Town - Pub Town
Don't hang around and let your relatives surround you
There are lots of pubs - Pub Town
Maybe I know some good pubs to go to
Where they NEVER CLOSE - Pub Town
Just listen to the rhythm of a Guinness being poured
I'll be drinking meself to oblivion before the night is over
Happy again
I was feeling very confident, so I let it ring out:
And I may find a pub keeper to help and understand me
Someone who is just like me and lends me an ear to
guide me along
So maybe I won't see relatives there
But I will forget all me in-laws, forget the old Dragon
So I'm going to Pub Town, things'll be great while
I'm in Pub Town
Can't wait a minute for
Pub Town - Jamesons waiting for me!
Pub Town, Pub Town, Pub Town!
But I was interrupted by someone coughing, and I stopped me singing (if you can call it that, that is).
"Someone about?" I asked.
The cough came again, and a tentative voice came from the darkness: "It's me, Alec. The guy in 409, the room next to yours at the castle."
I could hear him making his way towards me; oh, this was not good. I had got caught singing me fool head off about alcohol and here was someone I met and chatted with for a whole two seconds at check-in. It was small talk, you know, the kind, as you are both waiting for your room keys. So this was very embarrassing.
"I came out because I couldn't sleep and thought the night air might help a wee bit." He said, but something in his voice gave me pause. I bet he got lost in the woods looking for the village pub.
I was not that inebriated I did not smell a rat. There was something more, and he wasn't saying, but it didn't take me long to figure it out. He was as lost as I was! Now, there is an unwritten law in the world of men, never admit you are lost and never ask for directions or help of any kind. There we stood, two lost men, dew-covered, in the woods, with no clue what direction the castle was, nor were we going to admit one to the other the sad fact of being lost.
"Well, let me just say I don't make a habit of singing in the woods, but I had a drink back in Cong, and well, with the drink in me, I just let it rip," I said, realising just how fecking lost we were, and neither of us knew what to do about it. I stood there and made small talk, mostly about me relatives for want of something to say and to keep off the subject of WHERE THE FECK ARE WE? All the while we were both covertly looking around for something familiar, both of us trying to keep the panic at bay.
There was nothing to do but start walking, and he walked beside me. It seemed we walked for an hour before he said something about not thinking he had gone that far from the castle. Yes, he was starting to crack. I, in turn, said something stupid like it didn't seem like that to me either, and I sort of shrugged and chuckled like this was normal and no big deal. You know, trying to act manly and all that rubbish.
"I hate to admit this, I got lost and thank God you came along." He said, somewhat relieved. THERE IT
31 July 2012
R. Linda:
First, my excuse, then my story: Relatives can drive you to drink!
OK. Now that that is out of me system, I will begin.
I have a complaint about me trip to Ireland last. Usually, this wouldn't bother me, but let me start with this: From breakfast to dinner, me entire day was spent with me in-laws. You know they drive me up a pole, and I can usually get away for a few hours to revive my sanity. But in Ireland, they were with me pretty much 24/7. I was inundated with the Abdullah clan until I wanted to shout me fool head off. But if I did that, the men in white coats would come, so I had to find another outlet. And I did. I used the old Irish standby, go to a pub.
I found a way that I could escape the relatives. Yes, I did. I'd walk to a local village for a much-needed beverage of a strong variety to bolster meself to face the next day. I'd do this while they were napping, but more often than not, I'd do it when they were officially in bed for the night. I would not drink in the castle pubs because the relatives had a way of finding me if I did. To get away from them, I'd walk to the village pub without telling anyone. But many times I found the pubs closed! This one-man journey was usually late at night when I hoped the relatives were sleeping. You cannot imagine the disappointment of getting to a pub relative-free and finding the doors locked and the lights out.
The problem being, that there are certain hours an imbibing establishment can be open on the old sod. On a weekday, drinks are served until 11:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday, they close at 12:30 a.m., and Sunday, it be 11:00 p.m. But some pubs have what are called a late license and they close at 2:30 a.m. All this can be somewhat disconcerting when one is overcome with relatives, and one would like to drown the thought process in good Irish beer or whiskey to whisk away any memory of relatives entirely. My problem was once whisked away, I had to find my way back to the castle I snuck out of. And, not being in a sober condition, remembering what direction one must return to was a bit of a dilemma. Add to that, if I was caught drunk, I'd be thrown in the nick since it is an offence to be intoxicated in public (a minor bothersome technicality that). I had one heck of a night at Ashford Castle in particular (in the woods, after having drunk a considerable amount in the town of Cong after a relatively chocked day). I wandered around until near dawn, trying to find my way back. There were no lights, you see, so wending one's way through dark trees in the middle of the night . . . well, things didn't look the same as they did when I first came from the castle.
Usually, my trek to the village pub was not a worry that I'd be there with enough time on weekdays to establish brain death by drink, but Fridays and Saturdays were not a problem. Sunday, oh begorrah, that was just the worst, and Sunday is the day that a lot of shops are closed or attractions are crowded and once back from all that excitement with relatives being in close proximity all day, one really, really needs to imbibe and imbibe BIG. I be sorry Holy Hour is banished where the pubs are all closed on Sunday from 2 to 4 (unless you happened to be inside then you could stay, but no one else could get in; not bad if the relatives find you. They have to sit outside while you drink their memory away. By the time they can be let in, you won't recognise a single one). This would have been a great way to keep me sanity on Sundays and at the same time get a breather from them all. But no, Holy Hour be a thing of the past. Sigh.
What to do? I did find, in one instance, I could get me a taxi and be driven to a large city where I could not be found easily. I could find a late licensed pub without fear of being disturbed in my trip to oblivion. The only trouble with that was the clubs let out at the same time as the pubs, and getting a taxi back was not an easy feat. The one time I did this, I walked most of the way back until a man and his hay truck came along. I hitched a ride. When I returned to the castle I was staying at, I was covered in hay and the doorman mistook me for the stable boy. It was embarrassing so we'll let it rest at that.
I often had to forgo the pleasure of the big city late-night drinking and rely on a nearby village with an early closing hour. Of course, you can tack on the 30-minute drink-up time before they throw your arse out the door and milk that a bit.
Thank the powers that be, there were no holidays the entire time I was saddled with in-laws because the pubs close for some holidays. That means the next recourse is finding a package store, hoping there would be some liquor left on the island after the usual holiday run. Then, stocking up and sitting in the woods by one's lonesome, singing loudly to keep the leprechauns away. I know the castles would still be serving, but like I say, RELATIVES, they can easily catch a glimpse of your arse settled on a bar stool in your cups, and then what good would that do? However, if all else fails, I could catch a train. They continuously serve liquor on trains and ride up and down the countryside, but with me luck, I'd probably get off at the wrong stop or, worse, end up somehow in Scotland.
I know I sound like an alcoholic, but usually I'm not; I am addicted to coffee, as you well know. But if you had the relatives I have, you'd do the same. I remember the Ashford Castle foray through the woods. Yes, I do. I started over the moat and towards the Village of Cong, thinking I had outsmarted the in-laws. I was extremely happy, and I had a wonderful time at the pub (see photo below), but on the way back, it was sketchy in those dark woods. So I started singing, yes, I did.
Ah yes, the famous pub from The Quiet Man, the scene of many happy hours |
I sang softly the following as I looked about me and over my shoulder: (If you'd like to sing along, my little ditty is to the tune of Downtown)
When you're alone, and the relatives are making you lonely
You can always go - to Pub Town
When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry
Seems to help, I know - Pub Town
Just listen to the music of the traffic in the village
Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are saying 'DRINKS here'
How can I lose?
Then, because I thought I heard an animal and to scare it, I sang a little louder:
The lights are much brighter there
I can forget all me troubles, forget all the relatives
So go to Pub Town, things'll be great when I'm at
Pub Town - no finer place, for sure
Pub Town - Jameson waiting for me
Pub Town - Pub Town
Don't hang around and let your relatives surround you
There are lots of pubs - Pub Town
Maybe I know some good pubs to go to
Where they NEVER CLOSE - Pub Town
Just listen to the rhythm of a Guinness being poured
I'll be drinking meself to oblivion before the night is over
Happy again
I was feeling very confident, so I let it ring out:
And I may find a pub keeper to help and understand me
Someone who is just like me and lends me an ear to
guide me along
So maybe I won't see relatives there
But I will forget all me in-laws, forget the old Dragon
So I'm going to Pub Town, things'll be great while
I'm in Pub Town
Can't wait a minute for
Pub Town - Jamesons waiting for me!
Pub Town, Pub Town, Pub Town!
But I was interrupted by someone coughing, and I stopped me singing (if you can call it that, that is).
"Someone about?" I asked.
The cough came again, and a tentative voice came from the darkness: "It's me, Alec. The guy in 409, the room next to yours at the castle."
I could hear him making his way towards me; oh, this was not good. I had got caught singing me fool head off about alcohol and here was someone I met and chatted with for a whole two seconds at check-in. It was small talk, you know, the kind, as you are both waiting for your room keys. So this was very embarrassing.
"I came out because I couldn't sleep and thought the night air might help a wee bit." He said, but something in his voice gave me pause. I bet he got lost in the woods looking for the village pub.
I was not that inebriated I did not smell a rat. There was something more, and he wasn't saying, but it didn't take me long to figure it out. He was as lost as I was! Now, there is an unwritten law in the world of men, never admit you are lost and never ask for directions or help of any kind. There we stood, two lost men, dew-covered, in the woods, with no clue what direction the castle was, nor were we going to admit one to the other the sad fact of being lost.
"Well, let me just say I don't make a habit of singing in the woods, but I had a drink back in Cong, and well, with the drink in me, I just let it rip," I said, realising just how fecking lost we were, and neither of us knew what to do about it. I stood there and made small talk, mostly about me relatives for want of something to say and to keep off the subject of WHERE THE FECK ARE WE? All the while we were both covertly looking around for something familiar, both of us trying to keep the panic at bay.
 |
| The woods, as daylight appeared |
"I hate to admit this, I got lost and thank God you came along." He said, somewhat relieved. THERE IT
WAS—he caved first! Now, it was okay for me to say I, too, was lost.
Luckily, before I could say something stupid like, "Oh, begorrah me, I was just about to say the same thing," I saw a shaft of light and realised it was near dawn. We were both covered in a greenish dew and had lost most of the night. I squinted and could see the stone and realised we were near the castle walls. I pointed this out to him and we both ran to the wall patting it like we were looking for a secret entrance. I tell ya!
 |
| The castle wall and dry moat |
"Let's go," I said as I followed him down the wall, both of us passing our hands over the old stones like two blind men. We moved along like that for what seemed a good mile before we found the bridge.
 |
| Never so glad to see this! |
 |
| The castle grounds at dawn |
 |
| Main door, no one about as we tiptoe in |
"We'll do it at the same time; that way, one loud click not two," I said, getting me keycard out.
We got to our doors and stood with our cards at the ready.
"On my count of three," Alec whispered.
On three, we slipped the cards in and looked at each other. I nodded, and we took hold of the handles as we pulled the cards out. It was smooth, I tell you. Just a wee click, and we had the doors open.
He nodded to me, and I to him, and quietly, we closed our doors, home at last.
The door opening was tense, but what was more tense was me undressing into dry pyjamas and slipping into bed, where the wife seemed hard and fast asleep. I was hoping she was. Our busy schedule had worn her out, so holding my breath, I slid in beside her. Me head hit the pillow, and I was instantly asleep.
It was three hours later (not even) that I was shaken awake. We had to get to breakfast. I was dragging, I was. But the good news was I got away with my little jaunt to Cong, and she was never the wiser. Of course, when she reads this there will be hell to pay. But at the time . . .
Anyway, I do wish for instances like those, where one be forced to smile and be nice all day to relatives whom one would have a better time without, that the pubs were open all night for persons like meself, WHO, after a day of it, need to forget and revamp for the next barrage of relatives on the go. But more importantly, I have learned the next time, I should take me GPS to make a clean get-away and return. No more of this touring dark woods in the early hours. No, I have not learned me lesson, so don't even go there.
I do wonder if Alec got away with his having gone missing. But I will probably never know. SIGH.
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
4 comments:
thanks for this I can't get that stupid song out of my head lol
It's true, the song is in my head as well AND I'm humming it which makes me Mam hum it too! Sigh
I ACTUALLY MISSED THIS ONE! I really think you should buy stock in the pubs.LOL you'd make a KILLING!
How could you miss it? You're usually in here cleaning.
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