Tag Archives: Lady Gaga

Allie and The Witches of Salmon

Ray the chef was having trouble scooping out a pumpkin. Lunch had finished and he decided he had plenty of time to get ready for the pub’s Halloween party on Sunday night. The 4.40 at Haydock Park was two hours away. Loads of time to get a bet on.

“Ping!” Allie the Aardvark was playing with the microwave again when I brought in the last of the day’s dirty cups and saucers. He and it had a special understanding, it seemed. I couldn’t see the attraction myself. But then, my little blue friend found amusement in the strangest of places. Maybe there weren’t any microwave ovens where Allie came from. Which reminded me: as long as I’ve known the aardvark, he’s never really explained his origins. He was just…there. The winning prize of the pub’s weekly lottery and I somehow adopted him. Or he adopted me.

Whichever. I don’t really know.

Ray cursed loudly. “Whose bright idea was it to order a pumpkin?” he said.

“Mine,” Allie said. “Halloween is not Halloween until a pumpkin has been well and truly scooped.”

For those that don’t know, Allie is a one-of-a-kind; a talking aardvark that only I can hear. He loves playing up on this.

“What did he say?” Ray said.

“He said it was his idea,” I replied. “What’s the problem with it?”

“It’s as tough as my granny’s you-know-what,” he said.

“That bad, huh?” I didn’t want to ask what the ‘you-know-what’ was. Some things were best left alone.

“I need a chisel,” Ray said.

“You can’t take a chisel to a pumpkin, Ray. You’ll hack it to pieces.”

“It’s either that or it goes in the bin.”

“The bossman wouldn’t like that,” Allie said. “He spent twenty euro on a pumpkin. For that kind of money, he’ll want it to serve drinks, too.” Martin was the owner of the pub. He was as tight with cash as Ray’s granny’s you-know-what was tough. Real tight. Real tough.

“What did he say?” Ray asked again.

“Don’t use a chisel,” I said.

“He’s no bloody use,” Ray said. “Ask him to take a took at the 4.40, will you? I need a winner badly.”

“After the last time,” I said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Especially when you’re thinking of chiseling a pumpkin.”

One of Allie’s many talents is the ability to predict certain events, events in which he has no direct involvement – like horse racing. He found a winner for Ray the day after he got here and was sorry that he did. Even though the aardvark tried to dissuade him, Ray still tried to get one more winning horse from Allie.

“Let’s go, Jimbo,” Allie said. “I want to see what Halloween is like in Dublin.”

“I hope you like bangers,” I said.

***

My new friend wore my Stetson all the time. I brought it home from my trip to the States last year, but it suited him better than it did me. He had a head for hats. I just looked ridiculous. We took a bus into the city centre and got off at Marlborough Street. We crossed O’Connell Street, avoiding chuggers along the way, and strolled up Henry Street. The shop windows tried in vain to entice people to come in and sample the very latest in fancy dress. Allie walked toward one of the displays. His snout perked up.

“See something you like?” I said.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “It seems to me that the latest fashion designs would have the Witches of Salmon weeping into their cauldrons.”

“The witches of who?” I sensed an aardvarkian history lesson on its way.

“Salmon,” he replied. “I mean, look at these.” He pointed at the mannequins. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say this shop sold school uniforms for Lady Gaga fans. Who in their right minds goes around wearing stuff like this?”

I didn’t know what was more surprising: the fact that Allie had an opinion on fashion or that he knew who Lady Gaga was.

“This is what happens on Halloween, Allie,” I said. “The young ones dress up like tarts, get blitzed on alcopops, and spend the next day throwing up monkey nuts.”

“Charming,” the aardvark said. “Wouldn’t happen in my day. The witches wouldn’t allow it.”

We continued our walk up Henry Street. On the corner of Moore Street, some guys were selling fireworks and bangers, despite this activity being against the law. One of the hawkers approached us.

“D’ya want some fireworks, bud?” he said.

“A witch’s curse be upon you!” Allie replied. “May your spawn suffer the ignominy of perpetual boredom!”

“Allie!”

“What did he say?” the hawker asked.

“He said no.” I grabbed Allie’s snout. “Let’s go, you.” We marched further on. “What’s with the cursing? It’s not nice.”

“If the Witches of Salmon were here, such vendors would be afflicted with boils and plagues of locusts.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Jimbo. On the Feast of Salmon, all witches’ covens got together for their Annual General Meeting and debated ways of making their day of celebration more even and meaningful, less shallow. Hence the term ‘shallow evening.’ Of course, over the centuries, almost everything was lost. Shallow became hallow, Salmon became samhain.”

I stopped in my tracks. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“What, you think all this is to do with druids and ghosts?”

“Well, that and a good horror movie.”

“It’s marketing, Jimbo. It’s St. Valentine’s Day with vampires. The Witches of Salmon would…”

“I know, weep into their cauldrons. Hubble, bubble, boil and trouble.”

Allie’s stomach rumbled. “I need some M&Ms, Jimbo. All this talk of food is giving me an appetite.”

We retraced our steps. “You know, Allie,” I said, “if all this distresses you, you could always Hum them away.” Allie’s only weapon, as far as I knew, was his psychic Hum; a sound that penetrated people’s minds and hearts and made them do his bidding.

“I thought of that,” he said. “But it would cause more trouble that its worth. If I make these vendors go away, others will take their place next year.” He looked at me with those dark expressionless eyes of his. “I might not be here this time next year.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I felt my face fall.

“Don’t fret too much, Jimbo,” he said. “We have much to accomplish before I go anywhere. But first, I need…”

“M&Ms,” I said.

“Yes,” the aardvark replied. “And I want to have another look at those school uniforms.”

Advertisements

Aardvarkian in Athlone Town

Athlone on the River Shannon

I’ve often said that the best thing about Dublin is the road out of it. I have my reasons for this, and I’ll pursue those reasons at a later time. Needless to say, I look forward to any chance I get to make like Moses and get the flock out of there.

A couple of weeks ago I asked Herself where she thought we should go for our next weekend away. Athlone was mentioned and thought it was as good a place as any. So I booked us into The Bastion B&B on the Left Bank of Athlone and away we went last Friday evening.

Wikipedia describes Athlone (from the Irish Baile Átha Luain meaning “town of Luan’s ford”) as located close to the geographical centre of Ireland, on the border of two counties, Roscommon and Westmeath, which are located in the provinces of Connacht and Leinster respectively. Although the River Shannon, which runs through the town, forms the historic border between County Roscommon and County Westmeath, the Local Government Act of 1898 designated most of the town as belonging to Westmeath, including areas west of the river. Much recent growth has occurred outside the official town boundaries. Monksland for example, a suburb on the west side of the town, is not within the official town boundaries, yet is the most populous area of County Roscommon.

Okay, enough history and geography. What did she and I think about the town? It’s beautiful for starters. The Left Bank, where we stayed, is the historical section of Athlone; the Right Bank is where the high street shops are (as well as fast food restaurants and nightclubs). To walk from the back end of the Left Bank to the top end of the Right would take about an hour. Enough time for a tour of the city (amid rain showers), some shopping and a chance to catch the West Ham vs. Chelsea game in the pub.

Sean's Bar: the oldest pub in Ireland (circa 900AD)

Speaking of pubs: there’s only one pub you should go to when in Athlone. Sean’s Pub is the oldest pub in Ireland (check the Guinness Book of Records if you think I’m having a laugh) and has an excellent heated beer garden. The locals are friendly, the stag and hen parties come out in force, and the music rocks the house.

On Friday night a duo played a mixture of country, traditional, soul and rock ballads. Three hours passed away in a flash. We finished off the evening dancing to Lady Gaga in Coppers Nightclub.

As usual we skipped breakfast on Saturday morning; but we made up for it with a good lunch at the Town Centre. Did I mention that it rained for most of the day? It did – twice; once for three hours, and again for four. Lucky we brought our brollies. But by the end of the day we had already decided that we’d return before Christmas.

The Church of St. Peter and St. Paul

It was back to Sean’s that night (after I went out to get chips while Herself watched The X Factor) where a guy on a microphone belted out Oasis, Steve Earle and Saw Doctor tunes. A group of lads were down from Belfast on a Stag night. They were a bit worse for wear and one of them lost his glassed while giving it loads on the dance floor. Poor guy! I remember when I used to do that…

So it was a whistlestop trip if truth be told. There’s only so much you can do over a weekend, especially when the weather is inclement. But we’ll do it again for sure.