Friday, March 5, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
A Relaxed Risotto
This is one of my favourite meals to make. It takes a bit of time so I love Sunday nights, which are all chilled and relaxed - the perfect Risotto cooking conditions. It's one of The Hubs top 3 dinners and I would get "the look" if I stopped making it. Don't be afraid of risotto, it's actually very easy to make - allow 25 minutes for your work of genius.
For two savages, I use
4-6oz arborio rice (Tesco own brand is perfect)
1 onion, finely diced
2 sticks of celery, ribbed & finely diced
1 clove of garlic, minced
Salt & pepper
Large glass of white wine
2 thinly sliced chicken breasts
A large handful of frozen Petit Pois
700ml hot chicken or vegetable stock
Parmesan cheese
Chopped flat parsley or chives (both, if you like them)
Olive oil & a bit of butter
Heat the oil & butter in a large heavy pot, then add the celery & onion. Fry gently until translucent, adding the garlic and seasoning towards the end (so the garlic doesn't burn).
Add the rice and fry for a minute or 2 until it sizzles, a bit like popcorn. You want it to soak up all the oil & butter coating the veg. Then throw in your wine. The liquid will start to go cloudy. THIS IS NORMAL as the rice starch is releasing into the wine. Give it a good stir.
When this has almost evaporated, add the first of the stock.. about 1/4 or 150ml if you're precise. Stir. When that's evaporated, add the next lot. Now you put your chicken into the pot... and stir. The chicken will poach in the hot rice & stock and be gorgeously tender
When you've added 3 lots of stock, test a grain of rice by biting it. It should be very slightly hard in the centre and if so, add the last of the stock. If it's soft, you're nearly there... add the peas & cook for 2-3 minutes.
When the rice is tender and the risotto looks thick and soupy - not watery or dry - turn off the heat, add your herbs and taste for seasoning. Serve with freshly grated Parmesan and a very large glass of wine.
If you don't like chicken, use prawns but add them after the 3rd batch of stock so they don't get too tough. Finely sliced courgettes, leeks and mushrooms also work really well instead of peas (and bulk out the risotto to feed any unexpected guests!)
When I make it, I use Tesco Ingredients arborio or carnaroli rice, Maldon salt, mixed peppercorns, Tesco frozen petit pois, Knorr Touch of Taste liquid stock, Specially Selected Parmesan from Aldi and any freebie 1/4 bottle of wine kicking around if I don't want to open a big bottle (the freebies we get on the ferry to France are perfect for this!)
Here's the proof in the photos!
For two savages, I use
4-6oz arborio rice (Tesco own brand is perfect)
1 onion, finely diced
2 sticks of celery, ribbed & finely diced
1 clove of garlic, minced
Salt & pepper
Large glass of white wine
2 thinly sliced chicken breasts
A large handful of frozen Petit Pois
700ml hot chicken or vegetable stock
Parmesan cheese
Chopped flat parsley or chives (both, if you like them)
Olive oil & a bit of butter
Heat the oil & butter in a large heavy pot, then add the celery & onion. Fry gently until translucent, adding the garlic and seasoning towards the end (so the garlic doesn't burn).
Add the rice and fry for a minute or 2 until it sizzles, a bit like popcorn. You want it to soak up all the oil & butter coating the veg. Then throw in your wine. The liquid will start to go cloudy. THIS IS NORMAL as the rice starch is releasing into the wine. Give it a good stir.
When this has almost evaporated, add the first of the stock.. about 1/4 or 150ml if you're precise. Stir. When that's evaporated, add the next lot. Now you put your chicken into the pot... and stir. The chicken will poach in the hot rice & stock and be gorgeously tender
When you've added 3 lots of stock, test a grain of rice by biting it. It should be very slightly hard in the centre and if so, add the last of the stock. If it's soft, you're nearly there... add the peas & cook for 2-3 minutes.
When the rice is tender and the risotto looks thick and soupy - not watery or dry - turn off the heat, add your herbs and taste for seasoning. Serve with freshly grated Parmesan and a very large glass of wine.
If you don't like chicken, use prawns but add them after the 3rd batch of stock so they don't get too tough. Finely sliced courgettes, leeks and mushrooms also work really well instead of peas (and bulk out the risotto to feed any unexpected guests!)
When I make it, I use Tesco Ingredients arborio or carnaroli rice, Maldon salt, mixed peppercorns, Tesco frozen petit pois, Knorr Touch of Taste liquid stock, Specially Selected Parmesan from Aldi and any freebie 1/4 bottle of wine kicking around if I don't want to open a big bottle (the freebies we get on the ferry to France are perfect for this!)
Here's the proof in the photos!
The onion & celery softening in my trusty Anolon pot
The tricks of the trade (L-R) Maldon salt, french mixed peppercorns, risotto rice & freebie wine
The risotto after the first addition of stock
The risotto after the first addition of stock
The chicken and the second lot of stock
Now the third lot of stock and the petit pois
Now add the parmesan and it's ready to eat...
Friday, February 26, 2010
Ooh, I Love A Bit of Cake
Tonight is ladies night in at the Hot Dog Lover's house and I'm having a sleepover! Being the nice polite guest that I am, there's a large box of wine chilling in my freezer and I made cake.
Not just any old cake, mini chocolate loaf cakes inspired by Leila Lindholm and The Good Food Mood blog. I wasn't in the humour to make loads of meringue topping, so swapped it out for a lemon cream cheese frosting instead.
Here's a pictorial record of my ever so slightly messy experience...
The cake mix all ready to be put into the loaf tins
The little tiny baby loaf tins, all greased & lined on a baking sheet waiting for the good stuff
Fresh out of the oven and cooling off
All iced and ready to be eaten...
Now, time to run... have just realised that I should have left the house half an hour ago... eek!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
When I Was Young...
Reading the lovely Lynnie's blog post about her 80's mix tape made me think about my very misspent youth in the hotspots of SoCoDu and Wicklow.
We started off at the tender age of 16 in a local (now defunt, thanks be to god) hotel nightclub called Cinderella Rockerfellas... it was a bleedin' tip, but in the late 80's, what other choice did you have apart from bottles of Stag and Ritz. Then it was but a hop, skip and jump down to an even worse dump called O'Sheas. This was a classy joint, where your feet were guaranteed to stick to the floor and there was always a scrap going on. Fake ID was the order of the day here - nobody of legal drinking age would want to be seen dead here!
Once we hit 18, a new spot opened up - The Alternative. This was legendary and indeed has it's own Facebook page where one can reminisce about the joys of Bock the DJ, the Michelin-starred curry suppers with guess the meat, and warm cans of Satzenbrau. I think I probably spent about the GDP of a small African country on booze and admission fees in this place. When we got bored/ran out of lads to snog, we hopped onto the 84 out to Greystones to Cabanas. Just as bad, and a right bastard to get home from if you didn't manage to snag a lift!
Time for a change of scene and now having friends with cars, we headed for Hollywood Nights/Fights/Shites where the door policy was strict and a membership card was sought after by all. It was actually a great place and there are fond memories of doing the Timewarp on the speakers with bottles of Corona in hand with DJ Wicked Willie playing Betty Boo. Eventually they closed it down, to reopen briefly as Deep - utter pants.
So we were off again. The Dart took us to Dalkey where we would get polluted in The Queens and then try to persuade a taxi driver to take 5 of us up to Jesters - 50/50 success rate on this. God this was a hovel. Always jammers, never enough seats/stools, mad queues for the bar and the cloakroom. But plenty of talent, which to be honest, was the only reason for trekking up there!
Finally, we reached the top. Club 92 (aka The Club of Love) or Knackerydoo as we lovingly called it. I can't repeat half of the stuff we got up to here or certain friends of mine will have me murdered. it Needless to say it was NEVER me who made us all wait while a hotdog with 2 kilos of coleslaw was eaten. This was the cause of killings as no taxi would take us home while the mystery scoffer was filling her face. By the time she finished, every bloody taxi in the county had gone and the walk down to the main road was not a pleasant experience. I was cute and managed to finagle a Gold Card from the Manager rather than payment for a job I did there. Best move ever - free in every night with this baby. There used to be killings amongst the girls to see who was coming in with me. The routine was simple. Chat up Liam & Sean at the door to see if he'd let any of the others in for free, head to the cloakroom & hide ticket in bra. Check out talent en-route to loo for lippy application. Walk around scoping talent/sussing out who we needed to avoid. Buy beer. Repeat until kicking out time.
Actually The Club of Love holds a very dear place in my heart, as it's where I met The Hubs. would like to point out that I was ossified that night and don't know what on earth attracted him to me! In fact, the next time I met him, I had to be reminded as I drew a complete blank on the name AND the face.... shameful. Luckily, he's not a man to be dissuaded easily and I was worth it!
So, my MixPod over there contains a selection of my favourite songs from that era... to bring back all sorts of memories
We started off at the tender age of 16 in a local (now defunt, thanks be to god) hotel nightclub called Cinderella Rockerfellas... it was a bleedin' tip, but in the late 80's, what other choice did you have apart from bottles of Stag and Ritz. Then it was but a hop, skip and jump down to an even worse dump called O'Sheas. This was a classy joint, where your feet were guaranteed to stick to the floor and there was always a scrap going on. Fake ID was the order of the day here - nobody of legal drinking age would want to be seen dead here!
Once we hit 18, a new spot opened up - The Alternative. This was legendary and indeed has it's own Facebook page where one can reminisce about the joys of Bock the DJ, the Michelin-starred curry suppers with guess the meat, and warm cans of Satzenbrau. I think I probably spent about the GDP of a small African country on booze and admission fees in this place. When we got bored/ran out of lads to snog, we hopped onto the 84 out to Greystones to Cabanas. Just as bad, and a right bastard to get home from if you didn't manage to snag a lift!
Time for a change of scene and now having friends with cars, we headed for Hollywood Nights/Fights/Shites where the door policy was strict and a membership card was sought after by all. It was actually a great place and there are fond memories of doing the Timewarp on the speakers with bottles of Corona in hand with DJ Wicked Willie playing Betty Boo. Eventually they closed it down, to reopen briefly as Deep - utter pants.
So we were off again. The Dart took us to Dalkey where we would get polluted in The Queens and then try to persuade a taxi driver to take 5 of us up to Jesters - 50/50 success rate on this. God this was a hovel. Always jammers, never enough seats/stools, mad queues for the bar and the cloakroom. But plenty of talent, which to be honest, was the only reason for trekking up there!
Finally, we reached the top. Club 92 (aka The Club of Love) or Knackerydoo as we lovingly called it. I can't repeat half of the stuff we got up to here or certain friends of mine will have me murdered. it Needless to say it was NEVER me who made us all wait while a hotdog with 2 kilos of coleslaw was eaten. This was the cause of killings as no taxi would take us home while the mystery scoffer was filling her face. By the time she finished, every bloody taxi in the county had gone and the walk down to the main road was not a pleasant experience. I was cute and managed to finagle a Gold Card from the Manager rather than payment for a job I did there. Best move ever - free in every night with this baby. There used to be killings amongst the girls to see who was coming in with me. The routine was simple. Chat up Liam & Sean at the door to see if he'd let any of the others in for free, head to the cloakroom & hide ticket in bra. Check out talent en-route to loo for lippy application. Walk around scoping talent/sussing out who we needed to avoid. Buy beer. Repeat until kicking out time.
Actually The Club of Love holds a very dear place in my heart, as it's where I met The Hubs. would like to point out that I was ossified that night and don't know what on earth attracted him to me! In fact, the next time I met him, I had to be reminded as I drew a complete blank on the name AND the face.... shameful. Luckily, he's not a man to be dissuaded easily and I was worth it!
So, my MixPod over there contains a selection of my favourite songs from that era... to bring back all sorts of memories
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Baba's Beef Casserole
As a little sideline/to keep me sane, I do a bit of mystery shopping. It certainly won't make me a fortune, but it's interesting and one of the jobs means that I get to go food shopping & keep the proceeds.
I did one on Monday & when I did the fresh meat section, decided to get some rib steak for a stew - it was cold and I had veggies to use up. So this is what I made...
Baba's Beef Casserole
1kg rib steak
3 leeks
3 sticks of celery3-4 carrots
3 red onions
Thyme (fresh or dried - whatever you have)3 red onions
2 small cartons crushed tomatoes
2 glasses red wine
salt & pepper
Peel & chop your veg so it's all roughly the same size. Stick it in a large bowl.
Put some olive oil & butter in a casserole dish (I am very lucky to have a cream Le Creuset one), let it melt & add the veggies. Stir for about 5-10 mins, then season, including the thyme. When slightly softened, tip back into the bowl.
Chop your rib steak into decent sized chunks & dust with flour. Add a tiny bit more oil to the pan and throw in the steak. Let it brown and then put into the veggie bowl.
Deglaze the casserole with one glass of red wine, scraping up all the stuck on bits. Put the meat & veg back in, add the rest of the wine (I use large glasses) and the tomatoes.
Bring the whole lot to the boil and then cover with foil, stick the lid on, and put it into the oven at Gas 5/180c for 2 and a half hours. This quantity completely fills my casserole dish, so there may be a tiny bit of spillage. Check the casserole every hour, giving it a good stir.
As there's not enough veg in it for me to feel virtuous, I then slice a small punnet of mushrooms, chop 2-3 courgettes & saute them in a bit of olive oil & garlic, seasoning with salt & pepper. Then I add 2 portions of the casserole to this & mix it all up. If it's too thick, add a bit of beef or vegetable stock.
This will feed 6 people easily and freezes like a dream. Serve with some nice mash - tonight's one is root veg.
Enjoy!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Weird and Wonderful Happenings
I've been a right lazy beast of late in the old blogging department. Not long after my last post, we got some really bad news in work... basically we went bust with a little help from our good friends in a non-NAMA bank and all the hard work my bosses had put in over the past 15 years went up in smoke. It was a horrible few weeks and the end result was that all but 2 people lost their jobs. I was the lucky person to be kept on (there are some days though I wish they had let me go because disorganisation and lack of information seems to be the name of the game...) and it looks as if I'll be there for the foreseeable future which is a massive relief financially.
Christmas Day was rather fun this year - the Hubs was working at 7.30 this morning (yes, this is not a typo... muggins here was up at 6.30 to make sure he didn't oversleep) so it was a two part visit instead of staying at home. I spent Christmas Eve cooking like Gordon Ramsay... 6 hours solid and it was all done and packed, ready to be transported to the MIL's. We had lunch with her and Hubs' brother... it was actually great fun and as usual I cooked way too much food, so she'll have enough leftover to keep her going for weeks! Then we headed over to my parents for the annual quiz - which I won... yay! My nieces and nephew were running riot and demanding chocolate at 10pm - the demands fell on deaf ears and they were subsequently sent to bed.
Santa was very nice to me this year and brought me my Dior Escale de Pondicherry perfume - which I knew about - AND a Nintento Wii (which Santa wanted for himself). Then this morning, I bought myself a brand new shiny Sony Vaio laptop. I knew there was a reason I had been saving in the Credit Union! So now I can aimlessly surf d'internet downstairs but for some daft reason, I've no coverage in the sitting room... all suggestions to sort this would be most welcome.
Right, I can hear Chitty Chitty Bang Bang on the TV, so time to sign off and wish you all a very Happy Christmas
Sunday, October 18, 2009
It's A Beaut.ie-ful Day
It had to be a good omen - the sun was shining, the birds were singing and the clouds were at bay - I was off into town for the launch of the utterly fabilis book by Aisling McDermott - The Beaut.ie Guide to Gorgeous. This book does exactly what it says on the cover - talking about the beaut, the whole beaut, and nothing but the beaut.ie!
Myself and The Hubs headed into town early so we could park the car & have a little wander before the midday launch and book signing (for which he was planning to skedaddle into Tower Records for some man time). Ooh, I do love the 3rd floor in BT's - homewares are loved almost as much as beauty products Chez Baba and a good candle-sniffing session was on the cards. Most of 'em were just rank. The funniest one was called "Log Fire" which spelled exactly like one of the cottages in Bunratty Folk Park - brought me right back to my Colaiste Bhride Rannafeirste gaeltacht experience. Eventually we made our way down via the posho ladies clothes - a sequinned geansai by Chloe for €350 - Hubs told me to buy two!!!
We got down to the ground floor and there was already a whole heap of people in a queue-like manner near the display, so I dispatched Hubs off to squander his cash on mental, sorry metal, music and I went down to where the action was. Most of the ladies queueing were relatively normal apart from two junion Foxrock Fannies behind me who, at the tender age of 15, were yah-ing about how OMG I just like totally need this Mulberry purse in purple. Drove me bonkers and I was itching to wire her braces to the nearest security tag just for the sheer fun of it. Finally, after trying and failing to ignore the pistachio macaroons from Laduree, Amy Huberman hopped up to enthuse about the book (god she's tiny and pretty... and I'm still not hatin' on her) and finally I got to buy the buke and rootle in the stuffed goody bag. Oh I only had a little glance inside as I love to wallow in the stash in the privacy of my own bedroom, showing The Hubs yet more goodies for me to play with. Aisling looked gorgeous - beootiful frock, flawless makeup and very very lovely in person.
I got to meet some of the other lovely beaut.ie bloggers - they are all gorgeous with perfect makeup and accessories - before I had to head off to see one of my nieces do a star turn as a mascot at the Bray Wanderers -v- Liverpool Legends match at the Carlisle Ground.
Now for a spot of ironing, otherwise I'll be going to work in my jammies tomorrow and I'm too posh to work that particular look!!!
Myself and The Hubs headed into town early so we could park the car & have a little wander before the midday launch and book signing (for which he was planning to skedaddle into Tower Records for some man time). Ooh, I do love the 3rd floor in BT's - homewares are loved almost as much as beauty products Chez Baba and a good candle-sniffing session was on the cards. Most of 'em were just rank. The funniest one was called "Log Fire" which spelled exactly like one of the cottages in Bunratty Folk Park - brought me right back to my Colaiste Bhride Rannafeirste gaeltacht experience. Eventually we made our way down via the posho ladies clothes - a sequinned geansai by Chloe for €350 - Hubs told me to buy two!!!
We got down to the ground floor and there was already a whole heap of people in a queue-like manner near the display, so I dispatched Hubs off to squander his cash on mental, sorry metal, music and I went down to where the action was. Most of the ladies queueing were relatively normal apart from two junion Foxrock Fannies behind me who, at the tender age of 15, were yah-ing about how OMG I just like totally need this Mulberry purse in purple. Drove me bonkers and I was itching to wire her braces to the nearest security tag just for the sheer fun of it. Finally, after trying and failing to ignore the pistachio macaroons from Laduree, Amy Huberman hopped up to enthuse about the book (god she's tiny and pretty... and I'm still not hatin' on her) and finally I got to buy the buke and rootle in the stuffed goody bag. Oh I only had a little glance inside as I love to wallow in the stash in the privacy of my own bedroom, showing The Hubs yet more goodies for me to play with. Aisling looked gorgeous - beootiful frock, flawless makeup and very very lovely in person.
I got to meet some of the other lovely beaut.ie bloggers - they are all gorgeous with perfect makeup and accessories - before I had to head off to see one of my nieces do a star turn as a mascot at the Bray Wanderers -v- Liverpool Legends match at the Carlisle Ground.
Now for a spot of ironing, otherwise I'll be going to work in my jammies tomorrow and I'm too posh to work that particular look!!!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
What A Hair-Brained Excuse...
I logged onto the Sunday Independent online this morning and one of the cover stories which caught my eye was this -
http://www.independent.ie/national-news/i-wasnt-blotto-or-anything--stylist-to-the-stars-furious-after-brush-with-law-over-drinkdriving-1818086.html
My oh my, that super-inflated ego on a midlife crisis bike Mr. David Marshall (hairdresser to the stars, dontcha know) is a right piece of work. He drank, got on his penis-replacement Harley and made the conscious and utterly moronic decision to drive home from the golf club and whinged bitterly about losing his licence and receiving a hefty fine.
To demonstrate the sheer arrogance of the man, read on...
"I was shocked that I was over the limit," he says now. "I said to the guard there was no way I could be over the limit."
But the hairdresser, who has cut the likes of Bono's hair in the past, was convicted and banned for four years under the drink-driving laws.
"I had a few pints of Guinness after I played a round of golf at the Royal Dublin," he says.
"I played a few games of snooker and I won at the snooker, and I normally wouldn't go to the bar," he says. "It was Christmas time, festive season, and I had two pints of Guinness and a glass of Guinness. What's the big deal?
"There's no justice in this land," he added. "No justice at all in Ireland. Where's the justice?
Justice eh. Not only did he lose his licence this week, but the overbearing prat already had a drink-driving conviction from the early 90's. How many convictions does this man, who clearly knows better than the rest of us, require before he realises that you just cannot drink and drive. I've no doubt that he had enough money to pay for a taxi, or even, heaven forbid, get public transport home.
He's a moron who got caught royally and has the cheek to bleat pitifully to a journalist about how everybody else was wrong, and sure there was no harm intended.
I wonder what he would be saying had he run over somebody and killed them as a result of his total disregard for the laws. Sure it would probably be all their fault for being on the road and not getting out of his drunken, weaving, incapable way.
Bastard.
http://www.independent.ie/national-news/i-wasnt-blotto-or-anything--stylist-to-the-stars-furious-after-brush-with-law-over-drinkdriving-1818086.html
My oh my, that super-inflated ego on a midlife crisis bike Mr. David Marshall (hairdresser to the stars, dontcha know) is a right piece of work. He drank, got on his penis-replacement Harley and made the conscious and utterly moronic decision to drive home from the golf club and whinged bitterly about losing his licence and receiving a hefty fine.
To demonstrate the sheer arrogance of the man, read on...
"I was shocked that I was over the limit," he says now. "I said to the guard there was no way I could be over the limit."
But the hairdresser, who has cut the likes of Bono's hair in the past, was convicted and banned for four years under the drink-driving laws.
"I had a few pints of Guinness after I played a round of golf at the Royal Dublin," he says.
"I played a few games of snooker and I won at the snooker, and I normally wouldn't go to the bar," he says. "It was Christmas time, festive season, and I had two pints of Guinness and a glass of Guinness. What's the big deal?
"There's no justice in this land," he added. "No justice at all in Ireland. Where's the justice?
Justice eh. Not only did he lose his licence this week, but the overbearing prat already had a drink-driving conviction from the early 90's. How many convictions does this man, who clearly knows better than the rest of us, require before he realises that you just cannot drink and drive. I've no doubt that he had enough money to pay for a taxi, or even, heaven forbid, get public transport home.
He's a moron who got caught royally and has the cheek to bleat pitifully to a journalist about how everybody else was wrong, and sure there was no harm intended.
I wonder what he would be saying had he run over somebody and killed them as a result of his total disregard for the laws. Sure it would probably be all their fault for being on the road and not getting out of his drunken, weaving, incapable way.
Bastard.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The Future's Bright, The Future's Orange...
And indeed it is. I met my next husband last weekend. At Croke Park to be precise. And I know I'm very happily married and he's utterly unobtainable, seeing as he's a quarter of Take That, but bloody hell, I have a serious girlie crush on the divine Mr. Orange. I was never a massive TT fan back in the day, seeing as I was spending most of my waking time in Club 92 & other assorted nightclubs chasing boys/men and the closest relationship I had to TT was throwing shapes around the dancefloor. Until last Saturday night.
I was on my sidekick, the trusty crutch, and accompanied by my two best girlie friends Marge & Monkers (don't worry, they know exactly who they are!) and we set off for Croke Park to lust at the altar of all things Boyband. The omens were good - we had a very very very cute taxi driver who was from Lyon - salut bebe - who got me as close to the Hogan Stand as possible without actually mowing down 110 Gardai who were all standing around looking useless & not directing traffic or anything remotely useful... I managed to eventually find the "medical lift" - best kept secret in Dublin but full of people who were perfectly able to manage the stairs unlike me, so I "had a word" and told them to bugger off & walk. The ladies manning the lift were in knots because they aren't allowed to tell them to bog off. I was in pain & dying for a wee, so I didn't really care. And if they started, I'd just crack the ankles off them with my trusty crutch. Eventually I scaled the heights to my seat in the nosebleed/oxygen mask area only to get a call from Monkers telling me to return to the bar as there was booze waiting for me. Hop, hop, hop to the bar I went for urgent refreshments. We made it back with seconds to spare and then the glory of Take That were revealed.
Actually it was a bloody good concert - fantastic stage show - but the highlight was the sheer glory of Mr. O and his 3 ugly sidekicks giving it socks on stage. I was in lust. Bigtime. I could barely look at the big screen because of the vision of beauty in front of my very own eyes. And the other two beside me were just as bad - I nearly had to send them to time out to calm down... then it was over & I had to hobble from Jones Road down to Marino Mart to get a taxi. The girls could barely keep up with me as my trusty crutch was giving me superpowers of moving through crowds. Shame it didn't last as I was a wreck by the time we got back home. Ah well, nothing that vodka & ibuprofen couldn't cure!
I was on my sidekick, the trusty crutch, and accompanied by my two best girlie friends Marge & Monkers (don't worry, they know exactly who they are!) and we set off for Croke Park to lust at the altar of all things Boyband. The omens were good - we had a very very very cute taxi driver who was from Lyon - salut bebe - who got me as close to the Hogan Stand as possible without actually mowing down 110 Gardai who were all standing around looking useless & not directing traffic or anything remotely useful... I managed to eventually find the "medical lift" - best kept secret in Dublin but full of people who were perfectly able to manage the stairs unlike me, so I "had a word" and told them to bugger off & walk. The ladies manning the lift were in knots because they aren't allowed to tell them to bog off. I was in pain & dying for a wee, so I didn't really care. And if they started, I'd just crack the ankles off them with my trusty crutch. Eventually I scaled the heights to my seat in the nosebleed/oxygen mask area only to get a call from Monkers telling me to return to the bar as there was booze waiting for me. Hop, hop, hop to the bar I went for urgent refreshments. We made it back with seconds to spare and then the glory of Take That were revealed.
Actually it was a bloody good concert - fantastic stage show - but the highlight was the sheer glory of Mr. O and his 3 ugly sidekicks giving it socks on stage. I was in lust. Bigtime. I could barely look at the big screen because of the vision of beauty in front of my very own eyes. And the other two beside me were just as bad - I nearly had to send them to time out to calm down... then it was over & I had to hobble from Jones Road down to Marino Mart to get a taxi. The girls could barely keep up with me as my trusty crutch was giving me superpowers of moving through crowds. Shame it didn't last as I was a wreck by the time we got back home. Ah well, nothing that vodka & ibuprofen couldn't cure!
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Guess Who???
Yep, me. I reckon I've just been a bit of a lazy bitch lately and have failed miserably in my blogging duties. A few things to mention - we headed off to Cork with the ladies choir on the May Bank Holiday Weekend, where we managed to WIN the National Premier Ladies competition. Much jubilation of menopausal women (eh, not me... some of us are still under 40 in the choir - but not all that many!!!) and we were on a serious high which still hasn't worn off - just like that feckin' Cantate Domino which was whirling around my head driving me bloody bonkers for a week afterwards!
Then we headed off to la belle France for our week's holiday. The place was gorgeous but the weather was sheer unadulterated shite. Not only did it rain, it thundered and we had mental winds to boot. Can highly recommend the resort though. If it was sunny, Tregastel would have been sheer heaven. The accom was great - a minute's stroll from the beach which had enough little restaurants & cafes to keep us occupied during our stay. Down of the holiday (apart from the weather) was my encounter with a metal barrier in a petrol station. My poor bumper took a hiding which hopefully won't cost the earth to fix. Diet went to shite as well - imagine living in France without bread - not a hope in hell of that happening, so I just went with the flow and enjoyed it.
The ferry on the way home was rank. The waves were mahoosive and it was so rough that even the hardened truckers took themselves off to lie down rather than sink umpteen pints in the bar. We had taken our trusty Nautamine (French version of Dramamine) as we always do, given my penchant to get seasick walking over a puddle. This time it was NO FUN AT ALL. Hubs was freaking out, I was snapping the nose off him for being a headwreck, while realising that the tablets weren't working & I was in danger of heaving ho myself! Another double dose of drugs soon got things under control and I lay flat in the cabin blissed out watching the Eurovision and snorting at Graham Norton's sarky commentary. Eventually made it home on Sunday lunchtime last week & I was still reeling from the boat - the house kept moving!
Work was mintal on the Monday - the girls were delighted to see me back as they were stuck doing some of my stuff (god love them...). Ended up getting food poisoning from a dodgy roll in one of the local petrol stations. I don't heave, but it was like a scene from The Exorcist that night. I didn't know which end was up - didn't really get shut of it until Friday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)