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Glitter, all the way.

Sparkly dresses and uncomfortable shoes aplenty, it must be Christmas in Dublin!

Mrs mememe2U and I celebrated our 12th anniversary by going for an Indian in Dun Laoghaire and then Darting it into town (1 stop in Blackrock) for Jerry Fish and the Electric Sideshow.

It seemed appropriate since I proposed to her at a Jerry Fish concert more than 12 years ago.

And no, it was nothing to do with the fact that she was 6 months pregnant and I had caught her dad polishing his 12-gauge shotgun. It was the magic of the moment that prompted me to pop the question.

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Glitter belles, glitter belles…

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On my way to the Mistake Factory this morning, I couldn’t help but marvel at the total cloudlessness of the big big blue sky above me.

A quick look at flightradar24 informed me that the metal bird above me was a Boeing 787 (renamed Dreamliner by some corporate marketeers in Mount Everet trying to re-inject a sense of resemblance of a hint of glamour in air travel)  from Thomson holidays taking a batch of eager holiday- makers to Montego Bay, Jamaica.

Ah… the warm Caribbean sea, the loungers, the pool, the pool bar, the dining room, the rooms, the less frequented back garden, the fence, the razor wire and the unknown beyond it.

Dreamlining on a discovery holiday to Jamaica.

The known part of it.

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Dreamlining

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Paddy is ready.
None of that slumming it in a 2-man tent with Fionnuala this year. Oh no.
He can only too vividly remember last year’s fiasco, when she overdid the ganja during Underworld’s set.
The explosive puke in the cramped little tent at 4.30 am had kind of dampened his enthusiasm for Ireland’s biggest summer festival.
It had also dampened his sleeping bag, with cider-scented gastric juices.

No, this year, Paddy will be glamping.
Delighted with himself to have spotted that offer on yurts in Argos.

And plastic buckets. For Fionnuala.

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The Electric Picnic

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Terminus

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Last 7.40AM dart from Salthill to Kilbarrack.

Over the past five years, Luca and I have:

– travelled thousands of miles in varying degrees of overcrowdedness
– received new strains of the lurgy from half of our co-commuters
– and passed it on to the other half
– inhaled dozens of farts
– produced a few (mostly Luca – and me the morning after a Big Nose Club meeting)
– paid scary amounts of money for the privilege of travelling on the most-expensive-per-mile commuter train in Europe (I was particularly delighted that time when the price of my weekly ticket increased by 29% in one go)
– had three altercations. Well me. There was the “we’ll-have-a-vote-and-see-if-the-others-want-the-window-open-oh-see-no-they-don’t-either” stand-off. There was the “I-value-the-comfort-of-my-arse-more-than-the-well-being-of-your-designer-handbag” episode. And there was the “have-a-kleenex-no-i-insist-cause-if-you-loudly-snort-your-nasal-phlegm-one-more-time-i’ll-headbutt-you” row.
–  also had dozens of laughs and met some of the friendliest commuters in the world (by commuting standards)

And I will miss all of this.

At least I got a 75 page photobook out of it, to remember the good old days.

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Last Kilbarrack railway bridge shot?
Perhaps…

Have to bag them while I still can.

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Preemptive nostalgia

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You know you are an old fart when

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you reckon that the young blue-haired muppet sitting opposite you looks too young to be tattooed.

But fair enough, he is entitled to do as he wish with derma, and epiderma. What really got up my nose was when he extended his underused spindly legs and put his feet on the seat. Next to me?!

Bollix to that, I said to myself. And I took his photograph. And I didn’t ask for his permission oh no. Anyway, he was so absorbed in the contemplation of pandas doing funny things on YouTube that he didn’t notice.

He did notice however when I extended my legs and put my own feet on the seat next to him. And rolled up my sleeves. And gave him the look.

His feet were reunited with the floor pretty fast.

Not a word was exchanged.

We darted on.

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like son…

I managed to rouse for long enough to feebly lift the camera to my own teary eye before collapsing back across my double seat, moaning softly at the thought of heading back to work for another week of corporate fun and frolics.

 

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Like father

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