Friday: Microwave popcorn, Jonathan Ross, Jools Holland and me. Eoghan was off boozing in Cafe InSane.
Saturday was great craic. Headed over to Malahide to watch the Ireland-France match in Gibneys – it’s a brilliant match-watching pub. The atmosphere is electric, the shouting contagious, and the place is just plastered with TV screens. They also do a mean Club Sandwich.
After a depressing first half though, the mood was seriously deflated. Nobody was in good form, we just wanted the humiliation to be over, we wanted bad things to happen to Vincent Clerc and we felt very sorry for the poor Irish souls watching in Paris (who were probably contemplating going up to Eddie O’Sullivan and demanding a refund).
The second half, however, was fantastic. Shouts, chants, jumps; the whole place was buzzing. So we didn’t win (who else thought we had another lineout coming? Brian O’Driscoll certainly did!) and so the French emptied the bench – it was the first time in ages that watching Ireland play could be described as fun and not embarrassing, frustrating or disappointing. More from Eoghan on the match soon.
Seeing as it was Six Nations Silly Season and we had been in the pub for about five hours, there was nothing for it but to head to the Wild Swan, Malahide’s most accommodating Chinese restaurant (translation: they don’t turn anyone down. No matter how drunk, rowdy or jersey-clad they are).
We made our way back to Gibs just in time to catch the end of a drunken sing-a-along, then boarded the Boogie Bus to ferry us to Were The Gang Still Goes for some dancing, romancing and bumping into people I hadn’t seen in months. Pots of fun.
The faces and the layout don’t really change at Tomangoes, but the technology certainly does – at the cloakroom they had this electronic scanner thingy that scanned up your finger print and then they took a quick snap; that way, if you lost your ticket all you had to do was get your finger scanned again – it sure beats waiting for the crowd to empty out before you can grab your jacket.
Serious snoozing was done on Sunday, followed by a trip to see Charlie Wilson’s War, which was a pleasant surprise (I wasn’t sure if Tom Hanks could pull off sexy, or if Julia Roberts could pull off 50). Sharp, pithy dialouge, a brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman performance and a rather random cameo by Emily Blunt all made for a good flick outing. The mountain of popcorn and bag of pic ‘n’ mix (eight euro for a teeny bag! EIGHT!) certainly helped.