I’ll have what she’s having

We rocked through our twenties with always some party or free house we just had to go to, clinging on to clubbing and pubbing all through our thirties, it wasn’t until a couple of stops past the forties did any sign of a social slow down appear. 

Many laughs were had over the years with shorts and shades parties, gigs in The Point, Bowie, The The, James Brown and the B52’s, world cup mania, boogie buses in the snow, slane castle, rugby, trad nights, poker nights you name it if there was fun to be had we gave it a go. A great complaint. 

But the ever-ready batteries don’t work as well any more and going out two nights in a row takes me the best part of a week to get over. Sorry to have to break it to you for those that think my life is just one big party it’s probably quieter than yours, I am now a social lightweight. 

To make me feel even older about it, the pub life in Westport is a thriving hum of activity. There are the usual ‘young’ pubs full with hens and stags and loud music you expect in a country town but of the 58 pubs (yes 58 bars) in Westport the rest of them are filled with people of all ages. 

For three weekends in a row I have been put to shame by having to go home early leaving pubs full of locals in their 50’s, 60’s, 70’s and 80’s enjoying Saturday night out.  A 93 year old man nodded goodbye to me as I slunk out the door at 12 midnight to go home. He was still enjoying the music and had put on his special tapping shoes as he does for every Saturday night in Hobans while he listens to the locals singing or playing oirish music. 

A couple of weeks ago we sat beside a couple in their sixties who had cycled from Galway for the weekend for something different to do. They were happily downing pints of cider. Inadequate was a word that sprang to mind as I left to get a taxi home before the rush…. 

Maybe there will be future studies done of the Mayo elderly social scene, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m convinced the locals have a secret remedy of eternal energy. Could it be the ‘blessed water from Croagh Patrick’, or just a love of Guinness?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Constant Contact

Bubbling with news, can’t wait to tell

I called the landline, it’s engaged, oh hell

Grabbed the mobile and sent a text

Call when you get a chance next

 

Simmering with news, can’t wait to tell

Can’t get hold of you, oh well

To find friends online, I take a look

Check my profile on facebook

 

Surfing for mates to give a poke

wondering is this gone beyond a joke

With mobile, emails, facebook and not to mention twitter

I’m getting through to no one and starting to get bitter

 

Waiting patiently, but still no reply

There is only one thing left I can try

I post my news on my wall

Is anyone interested at all?

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Addictions Happen Everywhere

I want to let you all in on a little secret about my newest addiction. 

An addiction according to web definitions is 

‘being abnormally tolerant to and dependent on something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming’ 

I think I’m in trouble. I am dependent on my new addiction weekly, and my only wish is I could get more of it.

It started about two weeks after I moved down here. By chance in passing I came across it, it isn’t something I thought I would normally get hooked by. I took a risk and acquired one and now I am obsessed with it and all it can give me. 

The Mayo News, yes a fantastic weekly paper, full of solutions to my problem of settling in the west. I feel uninformed if I don’t get it on the first day it’s published, Tuesday. Tuesday is now ‘Mayo News Day’ 

Its info is invaluable, my favourite being the tide times they list daily for the week. Who would have thought I would be so interested in the tide times but thanks to the Mayo News, I can tell when the water is out or in for that lovely walk on Bertra beach. 

I never was a news junkie at the best of times, skimming headlines and the crossword in the Irish Times was about as far as I’d get every day. But The Mayo News has filled a void I never knew I had. To want to know what’s going on in the community. 

Where else would I find out that the local pub is doing a Mock wedding as a fundraiser. Yup a fake wedding. So girls if you have a favourite hat gathering dust at the top of your wardrobe only worn once, why not dust it off and turn up at The Tavern, Friday Oct 30 at 8.oopm for a mock wedding “including a gala dinner, mammoth raffle, dancing and lots of fun. Music will be provided by the Buffalo Cowboys. Admission costs €25” quote – unquote. 

Then there is all the clubs, by clubs I mean of the non nightclub disco bopping variety. Fishing clubs, badminton clubs, card clubs, traditional music night clubs, hill walking clubs, gardening clubs all beckoning for ‘New members welcome’ 

I scour every line each week and love the way that it makes me feel part of knowing what’s going on in Mayo, learning of towns both east and west of mayo and all their local news. It’s Thursday and having read this weeks cover to cover I have only four more days to the next ‘Mayo News Tuesday’

 http://www.mayonews.ie/

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Driving Miss Daisy

There is a major difference between driving in Dublin and Driving in Mayo

And no it’s not about less traffic. Of course there is less traffic in Mayo than in Dublin. I don’t miss the time it used to take me to pull out of my drive onto Monkstown Road during rush hour.

Traffic has a different definition in Westport and I reckon after a time it will all become relative. We’ll see if after a couple of months living here will I start to get irritated, if I actually have to stop at a yield sign because of oncoming cars instead of driving straight round the corner. You get so used to getting from A to B quickly with so few cars in your way it becomes almost an annoyance if you have to give way.

Which leads me to my point of the major difference between driving in Monkstown and driving from Murrisk to Westport. The SPEED. Boy do they drive fast. I’m not talking about boy racers with spoilers and suspicious For Sale signs on their blacked out back windows. This sweeping comment includes everyone. Men, women, little old ladies, in fact everyone with a Mayo reg car. I have a different meaning for MO reg cars, in my book it doesn’t stand for Mayo at all, more like Manic Operators.

The road from Westport to Murrisk winds around beautiful inlets of Clew Bay and in most parts is speed limited at 100k. A Dublin driver wouldn’t think of driving faster than 60k safely on them. For the really dangerous bends they drop the limit down to 80k. Bends that professional rally drivers would get a kick of driving round at 80k but not me. Before life in the west I considered myself a fast driver and liked to put the boot down within limits, but even I know it’s crazy.

So where are they all going in such a hurry? Why do MO reg drivers overtake you on dark unlit roads on continuous white lined corners? Is it because they know there just isn’t going to be a car coming the other way or are they all on a death wish? I stress again I am not talking about boy racers, just normal every day MO drivers.

Visitors to Mayo don’t be shocked as soon as you pass the Roscommon border if you start hearing a strange buzzing in your ear. It’s not tinnitus, it’s just the locals whizzing home for their tea.

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The Country Market Cartel

Doing the weekly shop is a whole new experience here in the west. One that I am just beginning to get into the groove of.

Hurray to no more driving around in circles in underground car parks trying to get a spot nearest the supermarket. Or even worse scrambling around for coins to pay the parking metre for the privilege to park while I spend my money at their supermarket!

There are some of the usual supermarkets in Westport, Tesco’s has reached far corners of Ireland and there is even a Dunnes (although it probably qualifies for the smallest Dunnes Stores in the country), and of course there isn’t a town in Ireland without a spar supermarket, with Westport being no exception.

So for the first couple of weeks I trundled among them all and tried them all out. One thing they all have in common is very friendly check out girls who keep a keen eye on what’s going through their scanner. On two separate occasions in two different supermarkets I had a checkout girl picking up what I was buying and telling me “Oh no don’t buy that there is a different brand much more value, I’ll go get it for you”, and with that up she goes and speeds off down an aisle and comes back delighted with herself with her better value prawns. What could I say, I had no choice but to thank her for helping me and put the real prawns that I wanted back!

You don’t get that kinda customer service in Dublin.

I have also had a full on conversation with one girl who saw I was buying those readymade croissants you can buy in tins. Anyway checkout girl picks the tin up and asks me all about them, how you cook them, what they taste like, a good 2 minute conversation and then announces that they sound very interesting but she doesn’t like croissants so she won’t try them.

So this week I steer clear of best-intentioned checkout girls and shop in the local butchers, green grocers and country market.

The country markets are on once a week, so sadly some may say, I was looking forward to another new experience and some country homemade bargains.

But Auntie May has not let the celtic tiger by-pass her. Don’t be fooled by the apron pinny over the country home knitted jumper, with her gingham table cloth displaying all her home baked wares. She is eying you up as soon as you enter and thinking kerrching! Home made brown bread for a fiver. No flies eh!

But the cake squares look delicious and surely full of homemade goodness even if they are priced a bit on the high side. There were 5 ‘Auntie May’ stall holders in total and I felt guilty not buying anything, so I ended up buying something from every stall just so as not hurt any of their feelings. Oh, and a bit of a cartel going on as I thought it strange that all their brown breads were a fiver. Cartels always summon up images of underhanded dealings and I got a kick out of imagining all 5 Auntie May’s discussing selling tactics over a pot a tea.

Anyway, the country market way beats supporting the supermarkets any day. 

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