All the bad news on the radio.

Wasn't even sure I wanted to go but, fuck it, here I was. Drink around, upturned ashtrays, cheap wine, cold night, dim light, Family Guy on the telly and me waiting to give a lift home but no stir, all talk and be ready in five minutes and all that. Then I remembered I was… Continue reading All the bad news on the radio.

Nice warm chips.

He was late sixties maybe. Galway accent. Denim jacket. Beard. Kristofferson look. Bonnet open, Toyota, side of the road, hoping something might happen. He'd been there a while. Contemplating the engine, listening to the scream of the traffic on the bypass. I pulled in. Asked him the rhetorical: 'Everything ok?' 'The car just stopped.' 'Stopped?'… Continue reading Nice warm chips.

The Counter Revolution.

The pub was all go. Liberals at the bar, talking the millennial code. Take Joe. Drives all day and hates black people. Says they don't work and they're not Irish and why don't they go back to their own country. Mary down the back shouts up that she agrees. John's eating a chicken curry in… Continue reading The Counter Revolution.

The fuse.

Vectra going well. Yellow engine light still on and the cigarette lighter gone. Great craic if you're into dead phones. Said I'd change the fuse. Big plan, DIY plan. Looked up the biblical Youtube and a Polish lad had a video where you find the fusebox. It was in the boot, on the left, behind… Continue reading The fuse.

Reblog – “Where Fisherman’s Blues began, Kronenberg Afternoons, Paulo Cohello and the English Job Centres. #22”

Hard to know where a book really starts. The longer it goes on, and the more experiences you have, the more likely you won't finish it. It's because you'll keep putting in new stuff that happens, that you experience. The tone of your book will change, relative to your life experience and it'll eventually feel… Continue reading Reblog – “Where Fisherman’s Blues began, Kronenberg Afternoons, Paulo Cohello and the English Job Centres. #22”

Insignia still not scrapped.

Ah, sure lookit. These lads had it sorted. Big operators. Big into the car business. Known for doin yokes up. They wanted the remains on the Insignia. It was imperative they got it. Said they'd give €500. The loved Insignias. Had five or six of them in the forecourt out the back of their mother's… Continue reading Insignia still not scrapped.

The Pole.

There was big talk about this pole. Everyone kept on about the pole. The pole. The pole. I was driving down the road and the phone rang and this foreign lad said: 'We need to talk about the pole?' 'The pole?' 'The pole.' 'What pole?' 'You hit the pole.' 'What pole are you talking about?'… Continue reading The Pole.

Scrapping the Insignia, buying the Vectra.

The initial diagnosis was: 'You might be lucky.' It was enough to hang on to, maybe not buy a new car, maybe they'd take out the extra oil and sure it'd all be sound. Days passed, no word.   Had a great time getting buses around Athlone. Standing at the bus stop and people on… Continue reading Scrapping the Insignia, buying the Vectra.

The end of the Insignia…

The advice was - don't let her go low on oil, whatever you do. Keep plenty of oil in her. Then later. There was an almighty bang and a plume of smoke. I couldn't see out any of the windows for about twenty seconds. When the cloud cleared, it was like the aftermath of a… Continue reading The end of the Insignia…