Inspired by One for the Road's smashing description of the delight that is the NCAD Degree Show (see here) I was persuaded to leave the comforts of the flat yesterday evening to go join the crowds on Thomas St. Being disorganised and fairly lazy, I managed to miss the show itself (I was sidetracked by the arrival of two visitors, two bottles of wine and Indecent Proposal on the telly. I reckon I was 14 when first -and last- I saw it and I wonder now what my parents were thinking. That bit where Woody's going down on Demi in the kitchen, jeez...) Aaaaanyway, I arrived late but in flying form to meet my creative compadres in McGruders on James' St. A more fitting venue for the after show party they couldn't have found. No fancy decor to detract from the outfits, in fact, no decor at all. Or decorum. Or bar staff.
Deciding to shun the beer garden in favour of the cultural experience that is James' St. on a Friday evening, we loitered outside the front door for a cigarette. Realising what an ordeal it would be to get served at the bar, we tripped the 100 yards or so to Booze-To-Go on Thomas St. (what a shop!) and picked up a few rounds for ourselves. We then spent a happy few hours getting bladdered on the street, while the actual students paid for beer and pouted indoors. The local kids came out and put on some street theatre (the high point was when one of the little girls hammered seven shades of shite out of some poor young lad with her majorette's baton), and the Garda Mounted Unit did a ride-by at about 1.30am, but decided to let us off with a mild caution ("Here, move in there before you get run over by an ambilince. And leave the horse alone..."). Unfortunately there were no after party after parties to go to (or if there were, they decided not to invite us) so we ended up wading through the murky hell that is Dame St. at 3.30am in search of food and home.
This morning's hangover was inevitable, but made all the worse when I realised that I was due in to work by 11am (despite it being Saturday). Of all the things to have to face on a grouchy Saturday morning; a bike ride, 2 Kerry clowns and 50 sugared-up kids. I wanted to hide under a table. Thankfully, despite my complete lack of effort or enthusiasm the event was a roaring success. Na deartháireacha Fanzini abú!
Deciding to shun the beer garden in favour of the cultural experience that is James' St. on a Friday evening, we loitered outside the front door for a cigarette. Realising what an ordeal it would be to get served at the bar, we tripped the 100 yards or so to Booze-To-Go on Thomas St. (what a shop!) and picked up a few rounds for ourselves. We then spent a happy few hours getting bladdered on the street, while the actual students paid for beer and pouted indoors. The local kids came out and put on some street theatre (the high point was when one of the little girls hammered seven shades of shite out of some poor young lad with her majorette's baton), and the Garda Mounted Unit did a ride-by at about 1.30am, but decided to let us off with a mild caution ("Here, move in there before you get run over by an ambilince. And leave the horse alone..."). Unfortunately there were no after party after parties to go to (or if there were, they decided not to invite us) so we ended up wading through the murky hell that is Dame St. at 3.30am in search of food and home.
This morning's hangover was inevitable, but made all the worse when I realised that I was due in to work by 11am (despite it being Saturday). Of all the things to have to face on a grouchy Saturday morning; a bike ride, 2 Kerry clowns and 50 sugared-up kids. I wanted to hide under a table. Thankfully, despite my complete lack of effort or enthusiasm the event was a roaring success. Na deartháireacha Fanzini abú!
