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Mimiteen is ten

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Jayzus… 10 years already since that little fist punched the air, out of the C section, prompting the obstetrician to ask you to take it easy.

How incredibly aware of your environment you’ve been from an early age.
You looked so serious for the first couple of months, taking in the world around you with your big saucer eyes, and that little frown that said that you were reserving your judgment until later, after you had gathered more information.

You’ve grown a lot since. I know what you are thinking, but don’t worry about the height. It’s just centimeters. Your growth is measured in other units, and it is tremendous.

You are so in tune with the world around you that it is I, big bozo, who learns from you.
You show tremendous maturity when it comes to relationship intelligence.
Especially if we use your brothers for bench-marking purposes…

I am so delighted your enjoyed your birthday.

Enjoy your first watch. And your first real writer’s pen (no, it doesn’t run out, you just pop in a new cartridge!) And your Game of Life and Monopoly with credit cards (sort of annihilates what was truly fun about Monopoly, the dipping in the bank while the others were not watching…)

Mum and Dad, and Pepe and Nana, and the bros love you very much.

There is only one Mimi.
And you are she.

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It took a lot of arm twisting, but in the end Pepe gradually warmed up to the idea of having a birthday cake…

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The power of persuasion

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The communion

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That’s the one item that we did not have during the Deluxe 5 Stars Supreme Mega Gastronomic weekend.

I decided to blank out Dr Ross’s annoying self-righteous little voice about fatty liver nonsense.

Fuck that. Life is short.

And given the weekend’s good-food-that’s-bad-for-you excesses, life may be even shorter. I am sorry? Not in the least.

 

Fillet steak. With… with… WTF?! Is that an oyster stuck in the middle of it?

It surely is… Strange as it may seem, it works! Two very strong tastes. That don’t destroy each other. Surf and turf in the one mouthful. Washed down with Pinot Noir.

Make that three strong tastes competing for the limelight then…

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Wild oysters. Provenance? Uncertain. Not sure if it was the spot just at the bottom of Nana’s field, or the one that’s 500 yards to the right…

Faisant pâté. Ingredients: thanks Uncle Martin. Preparation: thanks Nana.

Rabbit pâté. Ingredients: thanks Uncle Martin. Preparation: thanks Nana.

Lobster salad. Ingredients: thanks to the fisherman from Blacksod. Preparation: thanks to Cuffe’s Centra for the Light Mayonnaise.

Refreshment: thanks to P. de Marcilly

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Wild scallops. Ingredients: thanks to Nana and Martin (and thanks to the spring tide for uncovering that precious bit of extra ground) Preparation: thanks Nana (I always knew there would be a way to put the corals to good use: marinated in lime, blended into a fresh cream and tabasco sauce. Brilliant!)

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Fried Chinese dumplings. Just because they are Luca’s ultimate favorite.

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Home-smoked wild Atlantic salmon. Jayzus, the phone camera doesn’t do it justice. Amazing.

Ingredient: thanks Uncle Martin! Preparation: thanks Uncle Martin!

Soda bread: thanks O’Donoghues’ bakery

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Homemade Couscous Royal Imperial 

Ingredients: thanks Nana and Uncle Martin. In fairness, the homemade merguez stole the show. With a real mutton taste, like they tasted 50 years ago. The addition of the pork belly means that they did not receive the approval of the Imam from Belmullet’s mosque. Still, what tasty mutton sausages!

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And for dessert?

Trifle. A trifling presence in the weekend of foodie wonders as far as I am concerned but the kids, and Nana, beg to differ.

They enjoyed making it. They enjoyed demolishing it. Especially Mimi, the ultimate sugar fiend.

I now need to walk, run, swim and kayak the millions of extra calories away.

But it was worth it. Oh yes, it was worth it.

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Foie gras

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They had a blast

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of fresh air. Or 12,000. During our hour walk.

But it takes more than gale force winds to deter kids or spaniels from having fun.

Nana tried to have us believe that the weather was blissfully spring-like for the last ten days.

I articulated doubts about the veracity of her allegations.

She then tried to insinuate that we are the ones bringing shite weather with us to her otherwise sunny part of the world.

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Cultural visit to Ireland

There was a bit of culture.

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Some very convincingly feigned interest

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Even a short encounter with a local poet and photographer (but he kind of hinted at being sort of busy)

IMG_1000But there is only so much delaying of gratification that can be achieved (“a tantric” pub crawl as Gary called it).

Pints had to be consumed.

Hungrily.

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Bit of tactical food too. And red wine. For variety.

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“Gary, I think there is a guy trying to sniff your head, through the fish tank”

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Bit more wine. In preparation for an afternoon of serious pintage.

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Quick photo for the cover of the upcoming album.

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And finally, the serious pintage.

Insto feeling a touch protective there.

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These six are mine, the rest of yize can fokoff.

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Trademark middle finger

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Good spirited conversation, monitoring the three spirit levels

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Paddy in the doorway.

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Another six for Insto (hence the rare smile).

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More fresh pints on vintage formica.

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All swell in the man-cave.

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Brian has landed!

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Jessie

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“You touchin’ ma camera, punk?”

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Bromance in the man-cave.

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Match made in heaven.

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More pintage.

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Getting on like a house on fire. IMG_1109

Tactical fish and chips (thanks O’Loughlin’s staff for bending the rules there…)

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Three wise men.

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More and more camera blur as the evening progresses.

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More pintage.

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Blipfoto.com

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All still going remarkably well in the man-cave of happy pish-talking.

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Contemplative suction by a master of the art.

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Tactical walk in the fresh air.

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Insto off to catch the last Dart to Killester. More camera blur.

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After all that fresh air, more pintage is on the cards.

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Pensioner still yapping away. Jason half-listening, in a state of fascinated horror.

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Gary without the middle finger.

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Ha! That’s more like him.

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Jim. Regal even in urination. IMG_1223

Sunglasses? In Ireland? Come on…

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The end of the bromance. Giving me the eye for the last time.

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The cover of that difficult second album.

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Thanks lads for a great Saturday (and a bit of a fart-filled Sunday in a cramped Dacia, with a mix of cool tunes blending seamlessly into one another).

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