New Years Day. Should I do my rendition
of U2 now ? The year I hoped would never come is here, damn it.
Last thing I remember of last night was somebody below our window saying "It's
New Years' Day not New Years' Day." Apparently, the emphasis is on the
word Year, but I didn't quite catch how one was different from the other.
And the other thing was the Christchurch bells ringing.
9:20am
Gary's across the road has opened. He's got super-soakers in the window.
11:24am
Walkies, with Liam. Filming all the 'last things' that we were going to do sometime
'later'. Molly Malone. Then up Nassau to Merrion Square, passing the Peppercanister
to the Girl with the Rope. Filming Herbert Place, Baggott Street, Toners, Baggott
Inn, Doheny & Nesbits, the Shelbourne, Kildare Street "yes, used to
work down there." More. The place were Beckett lived in Clare Street, the
Wildes' House, Leinster House, the door with the Arts of Ireland, the Rank Xerox
of "I'm from the National Museum" importance. St Stephen's Green,
now more or less as we found it, practically bare, King Street and Telecom,
the Gaiety, the Grafton Flea Market, the Mercer Hospital with the beautiful
blue clock, the Hairy Lemon, the Harrison Gallery on the corner, Cleggs, where
C had a shoe repaired, the Honey Pot, the Old Chinaman, where I never bought
a pint..
12:13pm
Waiting for the bus, the
16 from outside the Oriental Emporium in South Great Georges.
Hopefully, to see a hurling match. Starts fairly soon.
1:27pm
And that's the second time we're ended up at the wrong feckin' ground. We're
doomed to this, maybe it's part of God's greater plan. Feel like such a feckin'
eedjit.
It was a last ride on a double decker.
6:45pm
I don't think Evan's car was meant to take eight. But, after lots of breathing
in, we managed. Down the N11 to Johnny Foxes pub in Co Wicklow. A band's on.
All the hits, Dirty Old Town, Dublin in the Rare Auld Times, Green Fields of
France, and the audience clapped and banged the time.
Yep, "great craic," says one of the guys from the band, as we're having
a piss, "all great craic."
My last pint.
Driving back, down the misty mountain, the lights of Dublin below. Dundrum, Ranelagh, recognizing places. Finally dropped off out the front.
7:32pm
And Ned wasn't home when I rang, thankfully. I don't have enough money left
to return the shout. Spoke to Erin, they thought C's apple cake was delicious.
7:58pm
the Blue Stars beat Dublin in the hurling match we didn't quite get to, and
it was a draw in the football.
9:27pm
Up on the roof, for what will be undoubtedly the last time. The Santa on the
crane over there is still mechanically waving at me, and there's lasers from
the Ormond, where we had St Patrick's day drinks, the lights of the cathedral
spires, and the Guinness factory steams on.
I'm feeling ridiculously emotional.
10:35pm
and Holy Bejaysus, Tommy's on his way over, on his boike, just rang to say goodboy,
loike.
12:14am
And Tommy's just left. A bodhran bag, the session guys always made rude noises
about how awful the Clery's bag I used was ... chatting, smoking in the flat
(for the first time), about music and musicians, U2 haven't played in Ireland
for years, drumming, Frankie Gavin, Windmill Lane and somebody who actually
lives there, and some banjo player who's banned from the Auld Dub.
And that's it, promises of postcards, and he's off. Bye.
It's appreciated, mate.
Tonight is our last night here.
Tuesday 2/1
8.13am
Having what's probably my last
cigarette out here on the balcony. The milk delivery has just been made to Gary's,
just as it will tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that and for
as long as there's a corner shop on the Bride Road and Bride Street intersection,
just that ... we'll not be here.
8:56am
Trying to return the key to Home Locators, but they're closed, the iron chain
still wrapped around its' gate. The Forbidden Planet's closed too.
9:44am
We're being collected by friends, who are going driving us to Dublin Airport.
Just locked the door behind me for the last time.
Bye.
