The Monkey Princess (stellanova) wrote,
The Monkey Princess

friday to monday

Patsington's new band played a gig in the Lower Deck on Friday, and it was fabulous. They were supporting a band we know, as was another friend of ours, and It was one of those nights where you know everyone on the stage and you know more than half the audience, and I felt a huge surge of affection for Dublin and all the cool people in it. It's times like that when I really don't want to live anywhere else.

Afterwards, however, P and I got a taxi home which turned out to be driven by a man who, while very nice and friendly, was either (a) a dangerously bad driver or (b) on loads of drugs. He started the journey by breaking a no-right-turn sign, then announced that he didn't like red lights and proceeded to drive through several of them. He was swerving from lane to lane on the dual carriageway, and when we were nearly home he almost crashed into the back of the car in front of us at the lights - in fact, he would have crashed into it if Patsington hadn't called out to him to watch it just in time. He also wasn't wearing a seatbelt. He was so incredibly dangerous that Patsington rang the police and gave them the registration number when we got in the house, because he could have very easily killed someone. Possibly us. And himself.

But he didn't, and so we were alive to go to the amazing Town of Books festival in a small Kilkenny village. An entire village taken over by second hand books! It was amazing! We drove down with P's parents, and all of us got lots and lots of lovely books. It was fantastic. And afterwards we went to a tiny little Kilkenny village that has a motte and bailey - the artificial mound on which Normans built their strongholds. The motte and the ditch are still there, and you can see the remains of the bailey - there are hollows where buildings once stood. It was a windy, cloudy sort of day, and Patsington and I climbed the slippery grass to the top of the motte and looked out at a wild landscape of fields and old woods that hadn't changed much since the Normans were there. It's a beautifully deserted part of the country. And it's times like that when I wish we lived in the middle of nowhere. Of course, Ireland being so small, the middle of nowhere usually isn't all that far away from a city either...
Tags: dublin mon amour, literary serendipity
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