Category: Life

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

So it’s the hundredth anniversary of a set of events that never happened. How suitably Irish.

Dublin is en fete to celebrate the centenary of the day described in Ulysses, and amid the free breakfasts in O’Connell St, the messenger bike races and the people in straw hats and period costume, sometimes it’s not clear why we’re doing this.

Which is fine. It was great to hear Ryan Tubridy try a quick reading from the book on breakfast radio this morning, and who cares if most people getting involved in the celebrations haven’t even read the book?

It was a modest but touching gesture of love for Joyce to pick that day – the day he first went on a date with Nora. A hundred years on, and there are parties in the street over it. Pretty good for a book.

I’m off to wander around in town. Of course.

Monday, June 14, 2004

Yesterday I rode in the Wicklow 200 – a huge organised ride that sends 1500 cyclists up into the mountains of Wicklow for pain and enjoyment.

The full length 200km option is a lot like a mountain stage in the Tour de France – half a dozen tough climbs and a lot of distance. I’d not been cycling too much in the spring, and reckoned the legs weren’t up to it, so I opted for the 100km shorter and easier version. Although it didn’t quite work out like that.

All was fine as we zoomed down the N11 at seven in the morning, with a Garda car stopping the traffic at the junctions on the way out of town. Amid the hum and whirr of hundreds of skinny road bikes it felt really good to be riding in the large good natured group.

When we turned off the main road after the Glen of the Downs the group swung right at a roundabout, and it really felt like we were a single entity, pouring round the bend.

The first hill broke the unity as the sharp climb saw us labouring in our own discomforts Even with my triple chainring, one twenty yard stretch (watched over by a masochistic photographer) was too much for me, and I reduced to pushing the damn thing.

But I soon remounted, and managed the next hill fine – gravel strewn but longer and more draggy. Up and down again until the sharp climb up to the top of Rathdrum, for food and drink.

We’d done around 60km, so from there it should have been a pretty straight road for me through Laragh, Roundwood and Enniskerry. I knew the 200 and 100 routes divided around Rathdrum somewhere, but the division point wasn’t clear, and I ended up heading out with the 200ers waiting for the split that never came.

Once I reached Glenmalure Lodge I knew that I was on the wrong road, so a call back to HQ confirmed this. Shit – back to Rathdrum, past scores of cyclists flying past me.

The road I should have been on was really pleasant, and the sun came out and I cursed leaving the sunblock behind. Eating and drinking all the way, and feeling in pretty good shape I arrived back at base to be met by Buendia and a certificate.

The short spin home and I was done. 157km in total (as near as dammit to 100 miles), just over seven hours on the bike. Sore legs and burnt arms, but a real sense of achievement.

Thursday, June 03, 2004

So Buendia’s back in LA for ten days, so it’s just me and cat at home. And this coincided with leaving the day job, so I really am at home all day. And it feels like a weird flashback to three years ago.

I’ve got plenty of work to be doing – working on a report on e-Government benchmarking which is more interesting (to me, anyway) than it sounds. Plus sundry jobs for myself – updating the Accidental Pilgrim site and trying to get my iPod to play nice with my machine (that’s what you get for installing the latest upgrades).



But there’s been more Playstation and Pot Noodle action in the last week than you could shake a student loan form at – i’m regressing.

And it’s kind of fun just for a few days, but I’m glad this is temporary – me and the cat both miss Buendia.

I’ve been taping television programmes for her, but not really enjoying watching anything myself without having her beside me on the couch to talk to. And Arthur the cat didn’t purr for the first few days after she’d gone.

So I’ll try and enjoy my few bachelor days, but really it just confirms that I am, like, _so_ married. Thank God.

[NB: For more Pot Noodle action, specifically the thinking behind the classic (now banned) ‘Slag of all snacks’ Pot Noodle ad, check out this case study from the semiotics consultant who advised Unilever on the campaign.]

Saturday, May 15, 2004

‘God, isn’t it terrible they might be closing Bewleys down?’

It’s become a standard conversational gambit in Dublin to say the following:’God, isn’t it terrible they might be closing Bewleys down?’

Which is most often met with, ‘Yes, but the food and drink aren’t the best, and they haven’t kept up with all the other new cafes’.

I was in Bewleys in Grafton St yesterday, and it was a very pleasant experience. The cappucino was no worse than many I’ve had in town, and a lot better than some, and the atmosphere was as good as I remembered. The warm red space is great, and there were people lingering over their coffees and reading books – just like the old days.

So much better than most splash and dash places. If you don’t like it Bewleys, then you shouldn’t lament its passing. If you’ll be sorry to see it go, then maybe you should vote with your wallet, and actually start using the place again. It might surprise you.

Monday, May 10, 2004

it was abundantly clear that I’d be much happier there than in D7

Galway is like Santa Fe, New Mexico (shown left, or is that Galway?). Which is handy, as I like Galway, and I’m moving to Santa Fe.

Wandering around the city of the tribes on Saturday morning, the people looked not just like the sort of people who live in Santa Fe (liberal, not very fashionable, relaxed and a bit outdoorsy), but they looked like me. This also happens in the city different. A good arts scene, lots of great scenery and a better quality of life are other characteristics shared by Galway and Santa Fe.

The Galway cafes were less trendy and cheaper than Dublin, there was room to breathe (even on a busy Saturday), and it was abundantly clear that I’d be much happier there than in D7.

Which isn’t a complete surprise, as I’d been told this by Galwegian friends years ago, and have long since come to the conclusion that Dublin doesn’t really fit me any more. There are people like me in the city, but there are a lot more of all sorts of other different types of folks that I don’t enjoy being around so much.

So if I’d be better off in Galway, how does that leave me now I’m off to Santa Fe? In good shape, actually, as now I see that the reasons Galway would be right for me are also largely the reasons that Santa Fe will work too.

Even if there weren’t more pressing family matters bringing me to Santa Fe (a wife, a cat, a house . . . ) it would be a good place for me to consider moving to anyway.

Sunday, May 09, 2004

armed with only a 50 yoyo voucher from last chrismas, I stalked the aisles in search of brilliance and bargains

Last weekend I went on a media frenzy in Tower Records. Armed with only a 50 yoyo voucher from last chrismas, I stalked the aisles in search of brilliance and bargains, and came away very pleased with myself.

First up, Black Books series 1 on DVD – I somehow managed to miss most of this when it was on, so now we’re armed when there’s something crap on TV – which is almost always these days.

Then came Original Pirate Material by The Streets – I’d ripped someone’s copy of this a while ago, and it was so good I was happy to buy the original (put that in your pipe and smoke it, you DRM fascists).

But surely, you must be thinking, that can’t leave much money left over for anything else.

Well, you’d think so, wouldn’t you. But by dint of a cool promotion with lots of CDs you’d actually like to buy all being priced ?10, I still had some cash left.

Enough for De La Soul’s greatest hits. Talk about kicking it old school. I hadn’t heard ‘Three is the Magic Number’ and ‘Me Myself and I’ for a very long time, but I’m happy to report they’ve aged well. ‘Oh,’ said Buendia, ‘that sounds a lot like Fat Boy Slim.’ Ain’t that the truth.

And there was still money left for Ron Sexsmith’s album ‘Whereabouts’. He’s one of those guys who’s always being compared to people I like (just as I was always being told that I’d like ‘A Walk Across the Rooftops’ by the Blue Nile, back in the day. And yes, I was that predictible – it’s fantastic). So it was well worth a punt with the remains of my Christmas voucher. And he’s good.

I felt like I was 16 again – rushing out of a record shop with stuff I really wanted to listen to right away. Amazon and Play and all those internet people are fine, but walking around town with some new discs still in their plastic feels great.

Thursday, April 22, 2004

Today I nearly died three times on the way to work. And that’s only slightly more than normal when you ride a bike around Dublin.

Today I nearly died three times on the way to work. And that’s only slightly more than normal when you ride a bike around Dublin.

First was along the quays when a Transit van was passing me in the bus lane (where he shouldn’t have been anyway). The lane narrowed, but he kept his position and his speed, squeezing me against the kerb.

I banged on the side of the van, and fortunately the bus ahead of him stopped, so he had to stop, and I could extricate myself, with him yelling at me for daring to touch his van.

Next came on O’Connell Bridge, when I was going straight along the north quays. The lights changed, I went through, and saw piles of people crossing the road there in front of Freebird Records.

Most saw me (and the car behind me), but one guy just had his head down and was definitely not going to see me. ‘Look!’ I shouted, and he pulled up just before I would have run into him.

‘Get into the fuck away out of that!’ he said.

Finally I was going straight on at a crossroads near the East Wall Rd. A couple of cars had turned right across me as I approached, and a third just followed right behind them, not even seeing me. I slammed on the anchors and avoided him.

I’d been meaning to blog about cycling to work for a while – it’s something I’ve done almost every day for big chunks of the last ten years. I expect scrapes like that, and don’t really let them bother me, but just once I wanted to get them down in black and white.

Thursday, March 25, 2004

everything was too crisp and shiny without the moodily-lit haze

Off to see Billy Bragg tonight, at Vicar St. I’ve been a fan since ‘Life’s a Riot with Spy vs Spy’ around 1986 or so, and I’m really looking forward to it.

Last time I saw him was in San Francisco, and it was the first time I’d been to a music venue in a no-smoking city. It was weird – everything was too crisp and shiny without the moodily-lit haze. And Billy was drinking herbal tea.

If he’d come to Dublin a week later, he’d be in another smoke-free environment.

Tuesday, March 09, 2004

It’s 7.15pm and I’m sitting on the train to Wexford (I’m on my way to deliver some training on writing for the Web), and it’s a surprisingly civilised affair.

There’s room, a bit of peace and quiet (oh look, we’ve just pulled into Greystones), and Dublin looked great as we slid through the southside as the sun set.

I’m tapping away on the laptop (we’ll see how long the batteries last), and I’m struck by the same sense I used to get when I used to fly a lot – that I’m not really quite anywhere – like Kermit’s nephew.

And it’s very liberating. I can read, stare out of the window, catch up on blogging, and all the way I’m travelling too. But there’s nothing I really have to be doing.

I was hassled before I got on the train, and I’ll be working hard tomorrow and Thursday, but right now things are good.