Dreadful Nonsense

As part of my occasional hobby, I was sent by a newspaper to see a play last night. For her sins, I dragged Little Sister Edel along, because she looked like she needed boring to death, and no one suits boring to death more than Little Sister Edel. Also, someone needed to show me where Tallaght was, and that someone had to be taller than me. Therefore Little Sister Edel was probably the only man for the job.

We decided for the fun of it that since we were going to Tallaght, we should get the newest Luas line out there, and properly and once and for all lose our Luas virginity at both ends. I do get very giddy at the thought of traveling on forms of public transport that, say, bend in the middle, or run through traffic while we scream for our lives, or divert in ANY TINY WAY from the 46A bus route that I've been living on all of my conscious life (I even get the 145 sometimes, even though it runs the exact route of the 46A into town, just because the front of the bus says 145 and not 46A and that makes it a tiny bit different). Little Sister Edel was even good enough to pick up the tickets at Abbey Street, just so I could spend longer standing by the side of the track and clapping my hands like a mong.

When we got on the Luas, the front two seats - the ones that look straight in at the driver and out over the tracks - were taken, so we hummed and hawed and tutted and dribbled on the people there until they moved for us, and then there we were, me in all my leg swinging happiness. I can swing my legs on Luas seats, you see. They're just high enough off the ground.

It's not as great traveling in the dark, cos you can't see most of the route at all, but we amused ourselves by watching as the drivers from each tram said hello to each other as they drove past. Sometimes there was the simple hand wave. This was often combined with a flashing of lights. On one notable occasion, there was the tooting of a horn, and a couple of times the driver even picked up his walkie talkie and made what sounded like a ribald comment (although you can't hear clearly what the drivers are saying behind their security door). Also of greater amusement was trying to guess what the Irish translation of each stop would be. We were right on the nail for most of them, which is shocking, considering how poor my Irish is. But then again, people naming the stops of the Red Luas Line don't seem to have the greatest of imaginations.

The play itself... well, I've reviewed it elsewhere, and been paid a pittance to do so, so I'm not going to bore you with more details here. Suffice it to say that half way through the second act, Little Sister Edel grabbed my reporter's notebook (because I'm a grown up professional) and wrote

WORST PLAY EVUR

in large capital letters across my notes. Which is a fair summary.

This entry was posted on 09 November 2004 at 4:25 pm. 0 comments

Dreadful Nonsense

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