Remember the old days when tattoos were exotic and mysterious and implied a slightly dubious character? Before they became mainstream, millennial and dare I say it, bland? The glory days when a man with a fading green anchor on his forearm; or a delicately inscribed ‘L-O-V-E’ and ‘H-A-T-E’ on the knuckles of each hand caused a frisson of unease. Were these people sailors? Or bikers? Had they been in prison? A tattooed woman was even scarier. Was she a wasp-chewing gangster’s wife with a flick-knife hidden in her backcombed wig? Was she on the game? Was she CHER? Continue reading ‘NO REGERTS: Only God can judge me’
Terminal 3… flight’s on time
Yesterday’s blog post was a touch maudlin , as I was feeling somewhat downbeat about the life choice I made two years ago, when I decided to move back to Ireland. (meanwhile a tiny violin dramatically plays its forlorn melody somewhere).
So much so, that as soon as I got home from work, I booked a long weekend in Amsterdam, at the end of September / start of October. For four nights only, I will be visiting my old haunts and seeing my old muckers. There’s nothing quite like spontaneously booking a flight to lift your spirits. Continue reading Terminal 3… flight’s on time
Home, sweet home.
In a couple of weeks I’ll be witnessing the two year anniversary of my return to Ireland, after fifteen years in Amsterdam.
When I parachuted back into Irish life, in August 2015, I was clear in my head, that this (hopefully) triumphant return was merely to test the waters.
I had only ever intended to stay in the Netherlands for a couple of years. The fact that my time there ballooned to decades, didn’t alter my feeling that I was a transient. A temporary resident in the land of the clog. I knew that before I could acknowledge to myself, that perhaps I was now a permanent fixture in Amsterdam, that I would have to attempt living in Ireland again first.
Continue reading Home, sweet home.
Theatre times: ‘Redpill’
For my apres-work delectation, this evening I went to the theatre. To see ‘Redpill’ at Theatre Upstairs. Written by and starring Liam Hallahan, and directed by Paul Doran, it is a one man show, which tells the tale of an internet troll named Ben. Continue reading Theatre times: ‘Redpill’
Top Tips: Public transport etiquette
I mopped the flop sweat from my brow as I arrived at the office. I was flustered beyond measure. My experience on the bus was unpleasant this morning. Nothing more than usual I would guess, but with my sugars low my rational mind was on a little break. I logged on to the computer (so people would know that I was in the building) and dashed downstairs for a slice of toast, a boiled egg and a banana (as always, a creature of habit). To address the sugar crisis, I added a cheeky bowl of porridge to my tray – purely in the interest of restoring my mental equilibrium.
As I was wolfing down my bowl of gruel, I got to thinking about my daily journey to work and how it could be improved. The two obvious solutions are not currently possible – working from home (which would eliminate the need to commute) is a luxury not allowed to us plebs. Management seem to believe that this grim and hostile industrial estate is good for our souls. The other alternative – driving my very own automobile – might be an option one day, if I ever pass my driving test. For the moment I use the bus.
There are some simple ground rules however – not just for my journey on the bus, but for all public transport adventures – that would make for a far more pleasant trip. I am sure there are many more, but these are my personal Top Tips for Public Transport users. Continue reading Top Tips: Public transport etiquette
Cinema times: ‘Baby Driver’
I had never heard of the film. I didn’t bother to research it to find out any details about it. All I knew was that on Wednesday, the Odeon Cinema charges five euro per film all day. After my driving lesson I was going to see ‘Baby Driver’. Continue reading Cinema times: ‘Baby Driver’
The best Pride of my life
I awoke like a summer daisy and bounded to the shower. I was a man on a mission. I was going to my inaugural Limerick Gay Pride. Continue reading The best Pride of my life
Music before Pride
My friend asked me if I was interested in seeing the band ‘Fleet Foxes’ in concert.
‘Absolutely’ I replied.
I had no idea who this band was, had never knowingly heard one of their tunes, and had no idea what they looked like. Continue reading Music before Pride
An afternoon in Derry
After my weekend in Donegal it was time to head home to Dublin. To do this, I would first be taking the Northwest bus service from Carndonagh to Derry. Continue reading An afternoon in Derry
The tents of Donegal
At the turn of the 21st century I moved to Amsterdam and started working for an American company. It was a somewhat brave, perhaps foolhardy move. I had a job lined up. It’s just that I had never been to the Netherlands before, didn’t know a soul, couldn’t speak a word of the language. And I had nowhere to live upon arrival.
After a frenzied few weeks of house-hunting and settling in I was set. The only problem was that Christmas was looming. Being somewhat friendless at this point, I was concerned. I hadn’t booked any time off work to go to Limerick, and it appeared that I would be spending Yuletide in De Baarsjes with only a ready meal for company (my demonic cat Midnight only entered my life in the new year).
One afternoon at work pondering on my prospects I started humming ‘It’ll be lonely this Christmas’ by Elvis Presley. A colleague turned around and said ‘Will you please stop singing that, I’m alone this Christmas and that song is depressing’. My eyes lit up. My colleague was from Donegal and we got on fairly well. Seizing the moment I invited her over to my house for dinner on that fateful day.
And so began our friendship. Continue reading The tents of Donegal
midnightmurphy 