Final Boarding Call

Dublin Airport must surely be one of the worst places on earth to endure with a hangover. Everyone there seems overexcited or just plain anxious, Hustle is running around, tripping over suitcases and dragging Bustle by the hand. I am struggling to muster the energy to breathe.

I go to the bathroom, too dehydrated to have any need of it but seeking some sanctuary regardless. My reflection shocks me - I am barelegged, and too pale. Underneath my glasses I look like I have been crying.

I feel like I might yet.

I make my way up to the departures lounge and visit the pharmacy there for eye drops and Lucozade. The cashier looks disapprovingly at my mirrored shades and then reminds me that I will need to finish the 'zade before I go through security. Fuck. I think about going back to the fridge and choosing one of the smaller bottles, but thirst and thrift win out - this one has 25% extra free.

I crack the bottle's seal as my troubled thoughts and I glide back down the escalator. And drink deep, they will not take it from me.

Only then do I remember that I'm not flying anywhere today.

Knick Knack Paddywhack

I rolled out of bed this morning, dressed myself from head to toe in mismatched shades of green, high-hoed it to Carrolls' Irish Gift Shop to purchase some of those flattering shorts with the fake arse cheeks hanging out the back (póg mo thóin scrawled across them in homage to the Oirish language) had some chugger paint shamrocks on my cheeks and forehead, climbed onto the roof of a phonebox down at College Green, heckled the Americans below as they jostled for a vantage point from which to view the parade and then hightailed it to a packed Temple Bar pub to spill Guinness, sing offensive rebel songs and drink til I fancied Burger King.

Oh no, wait...

I got up, met my brother, strolled into town to marvel at the efforts that everyone else had gone to to celebrate our national holiday and then headed to Da Pino's for a pizza (the remains of which are reheating in the oven as I type - aubergines, broccoli, pepperoni, chillies, sweet peppers and cheese). The weather was beautiful so we walked then from Dame St. out to Ringsend, following the Liffey and taking a few photographs along the way, talking through some of the things that have been going on for us over the last couple of weeks. They've been a difficult few weeks.

Back to my flat then for tea and a DVD (28 Weeks Later - terrifying, brilliant) and then another stroll, this time to Parnell St via George's Dock, where we picked up the Hurler and headed to the cinema to see Be Kind, Rewind (which was very charming, Mos Def more than making up for the annoyance that is Jack Black). We walked home again via Scruffy Murphys, where the lads had a Guinness each and I had an orange juice. I'm bursting with virtue and pizza now, and am going straight to bed before my halo slips.

Sunday's Shopping Excursion

I've been an awful lazy wagon on the housekeeping front lately. By the time Sunday morning rolled around, it was officially a month since I'd last done any grocery shopping. I was away for a bit, I ate out a lot, but mostly I just didn't bother my arse. But we ran out of jacks roll, so enough was enough.

I decided I'd make an adventure rather than a chore of it. Off I set, backpack on my back, bound for Aldi on Parnell St. I love Aldi. Nothing seems to cost more than €2, none of the brands are familiar, it's utter fucking chaos and nobody understands anybody else, so it's like being on your holidays. I got as far as O Connell St. and decided to go via Henry St. for the stroll (my subconscious was craving a new pair of shoes, presumably). As I was passing Dunnes I noticed their new shop had opened, so naturally I went in for a look-see. Not that there was much to see... The place was devastated. I haven't seen Dawn of the Dead (I tried, but I was home on my own and it was too scary) but I'm willing to bet that Dunnes on Henry St yesterday afternoon comes pretty fucking close. Apparently they opened on Friday, so I was arriving in on the third and final day of their opening bonanza, a half price sale. Bad oul' timing. The place wasn't too packed, but the folk in there were all very very mental. The womenfolk were milling around in a state of heightened agitation, scavenging what was left on the bizarrely empty shelves (there was nothing in the shop to buy) and the harassed looking husbands were crowded around a flatscreen TV (screwed to the wall and not for sale) watching the Dubs.

Any sensible person would turn on their heel and hightail it to Penneys (given that their regular clientele were all battering their kids in Dunnes instead) but the anthropologist in me wanted to see more. And like everyone else, I thought there might be something -anything- on the shelves upstairs.

Nope. I paid dearly for my curiosity too. Failing to find the stairs I had to take the escalator back to the ground floor (I don't like them as the handrails invariably give me electric shocks). Nobody else could find the stairs either, so there was a mass exodus via the escalator, the end of which had the queue for the checkouts snaking across its path (what the fuck they were buying I don't know, as I said, there was nothing in the shop to buy). The stubborn shites in the queue weren't moving, and the idiots on the escalator (my stupid self included) were moving at a fair pace towards them and couldn't do a damn thing about it. Cue a nice snarly mash-up on the shop floor and my flip-flopped toes getting chewed by the metal lip on the stairs. Bastards.

Aldi was an oasis of calm by comparison. I enjoyed it, right up until my laser card was declined.

What a day.