Adolph Nana…

… the blood-thirsty, egomaniac conqueror.
I have told Luca about the many times Nana trashed Uncle Martin and I at Risk when we were young. He listened, but he did not truly believe me.
I have told him of how each new game ended in tears of frustration and bitter defeat, as we never managed to win a single game. It piqued his interest.
I have told him of how one winter Sunday afternoon, the game of Risk was binned by Nana, as both Uncle Martin and I were in tears yet one more time, and Nana declared that she was sick of this game, and that she loathed the military, and that she did not ask to rule the world. But couldn’t help it. Luca listened, but he thought that he had a winning chance.

He insisted that we should bring the board with us for the long weekend.

Nana trashed us.

But he did not cry. I am so proud of him.

The mentalist detector

Every beach in every corner of the planet has one…
The treasure hunter with his metal detector. Spending weeks on end digging up Heineken bottle capsules in search of the elusive gold Rolex…

Mentalists…

Talking about mentalists. And gold diggers. And dreamers… 
I stopped playing the lotto years ago. It has finally dawned on me that the odds of picking 6 numbers out of 45 are similar to that of having a stimulating conversation with a Jehovah Witness. 
But I play a tenner on the Daily Million once a month (2 lines for 5 consecutive days). 
The odds are a doddle. It’s much easier to get 6 numbers out of 39. 
Or so I thought.
Yesterday I got five. 
Statistically, the chances are pretty pretty pretty pretty slim (on par with finding a philanthropic insurance broker). 
Yesterday was the closest I’ll ever get to being in possession of a million euros. 
I should be glad with those five hundred euros I did not have on Friday. 
We’ll get a special treat for the family. 
Still, I can’t stop the little voice in my head… So close, yet so far…   

Preparazzo

Nooooo!
Don’t take my picture!!!

Not now! Let me elbow Colm out of the frame first!

Gamers anonymous

Sometimes, sometimes only, they’re all quiet, and all pally, and full of mutual brotherly understanding and respect.

It invariably involves a plan to drive their parents nuts.

Or video games.

Today, in the work place, I saw a video games dealer dispensing a fix to one of his addicts. He produced a handheld Sony PSP and a charger from under his dark cloak and dropped them onto his victim’s desk before making a swift exit.
Ok, ok, perhaps it wasn’t exactly like that.
When you are a kid, your parents would have you believe that this is how you get introduced to the world of drugs.
No. Your dealer will most likely be one of your closest mates. There will be nothing seedy. It will all be done in good spirits and in good faith. He won’t be supplying a drug, he will be doing you a favour, between pals.
You won’t be experiencing with dangerous, addictive substances, no. You’ll just be experiencing newer gaming platforms with your bud. You start having a laugh on a Friday night in the park on a Nintendo DS.

And 2 years later you are a dishevelled zombie who has played Forza 5 for 38 hours solid on the Xbox 1…

I won’t name anyone.

Carlos and Colm would be cross.