<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3200994\x26blogName\x3dDreadful+Nonsense\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-9128930095448289160', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Yesterday, because we are ladies of leisure who found ourselves at loose ends, myself and Dee decided a good idea would be to travel into town. I'm not sure why we decided that. I can't see how it would be a good idea for many reasons, the least of which being I don't have any money and traipsing around town looking at things I can't afford even at reduced prices, while being trampled to death by raging ladies too depressed following another disappointing Christmas to care about politeness or dignity filled me with dread. But because Dee demanded an alternative suggestion, and I couldn't think of one, I found myself on the bus into town wondering how exactly this had happened, and swearing that we wouldn't be staying in town for long.

That was my first mistake.

Halfway through my journey, Dee rang to say that she was running a bit late, and would be about 20 minutes behind me, and suggested I rang Mrs Bishop, who was already in town with her Future Husband. Dee said quite reasonably that I could bide my time with them until she arrived, and I agreed that this indeed was a reasonable suggestion.

That was my second mistake.

Mrs Bishop, you see, and her good Future Husband were in a pub. Where they serve alcohol. They were partaking of the alcohol, and this was only 3.30pm in the afternoon for goodness sake, Christmas time or no Christmas time. I hung about for a bit, and then at about 3.32pm gave in and had a tiny sip of drink, because Dee would be arriving soon and then we'd be braving of the shopping and the alcohol would be behind me, much like Satan.

That was my third mistake.

Come 9pm and I'm calling JC to see if he wants to join us. Mrs Bishop's Future Husband had wisely skipped off hours ago, leaving myself, Mrs B and Dee to our own devices, propping up a pub in Temple Bar. We were very enthusiastically chatted up by some boys from Croydon who insisted on not hearing any of the regular mentions we all made loudly and clearly to BOYFRIENDS, but they did eventually bugger off when JC turned up.

Skip forward to 11pm and I'm trying to insist that getting the last bus is the only sensible option. Mrs B says that there are night buses, and sure why don't I stay for one more, we'll all be leaving together in half an hour and all will be well.

That was my fourth mistake.

Skip forward again to 2am. Dee had wisely left at midnight, and was already safely tucked up in bed. He Who Only Reads This Blog To See If He's Mentioned rang a couple of hours ago, and got a full earful of my drunken state, while I dribbled on about New Years Eve and boys from Croydon and how cold Dublin is, while Mrs B and JC ranted and raved in the background, kindly repeating many of the dribbling pieces of nonsense I'd been coming out with for most of this evening. Snow Patrol is playing loudly in the pub I'm in, and myself and Mrs B are boring everyone around us by telling each other loudly how wonderful it is to be in love. JC gives up and goes home. We get one more for the road.

That was my fifth mistake.

3.30am in the morning. Dublin city centre has suddenly closed for business, leaving hundreds of us stranded, without a single clue as to what to do next. The night buses don't seem to be running. There isn't a taxi, or even a mere car, to be seen for miles. Every taxi rank in the city has queues of shivering blue people snaking up and down the pavement, all huddled together around the butt of their cigarettes trying to get some warmth. Myself and Mrs B stand in a queue for about 10 minutes drinking cups of tea, and then give up, and make the 40 minute trek back to her house.

This was a wise decision. This was in fact the only wise decision made yesterday.

Woke up this morning feeling Simply Not Right, and I've felt Simply Not Right all day. Even now, with almost 24 hours between me and most of the dreadful mistakes, all is not well. Puppies and coffee help, certainly, but many of my internal organs seem to be demanding compensation for the battles they went through last night, and they're not afraid of all out strike action if they don't get it.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment