Christmas in the Capital

Stephen's Night: Greg likes Foxhunter Shocker!

Okay, Saint Stephen's Day working in the Foxhunter went really well. (While English people call Saint Stephen's Day 'Boxing Day', Irish people attempt to recognise the day's sanctity in some notional sense, but pronounce it Stephen's's Day, for some reason. I can't think why. We basically ignore the fact that the first martyr was a saint, but stick a bonus possessive 's' at the end of his name. Odd. We don't feed the ducks in Stephen's's Green.) The Fox is dead easy to work in, having a very deep bar, in the round at one point, which is laid out with an impressive logic I would hitherto never has associated with bar design. I was mainly working in the old lounge, but was quite taken with the new bar. The bar was done up a year ago, but since it's been a couple of years since I've set foot in the Fox, I had no idea that it had been transformed from a somewhat barren hall into a rather trendy establishment, which really doesn't look like a suburban pub.

The staff were great to work with too, notably Joanne, one of the barmaids. I didn't realise she was still working there, though I knew she'd been there a few years back. She used to work in the Palmerstown House back when I first started drinking there in 1993. Fun to work with somebody who had served me some of my first legal pints. Also had a good laugh with the loungestaff, notably Niamh, an art student in Ballyfermot; she's the loungestaff supervisor in the Fox, having worked there for three years, and is very strong on the floor, as I commented to Declan afterwards. I was also impressed with Hannah, a Chinese girl who's been there for the last year.

It was a strangely quiet night; not quiet in an absolute sense, since it felt like a normal Saturday night, rather it was relatively quiet, since Stephen's Day has long been one of the traditional big nights of the year.

Declan decided to shut the bar at twelve rather than half twelve, so we cleared fairly quickly. Once we were done I went into Tailor Quigley's, the Fox's late bar, where the crew from the Granite had gone after leaving the new bar; they were out not merely because it was one of the few nights of the year when all Granite staff are off, but also because it was Sharon Moone's 21st Birthday. I pushed my way among the dancing throng to give Padraig Gilligan back a fiver I'd borrowed from him earlier on. On the way I was accosted by the ecstatic trio of Ann Fitzgerald, Debbie Harris, and Glen Hansard. (Not the Glen Hansard from the Commitments and the Frames, although they are related.) Avril Lavigne's 'Complicated' was on at the time, and I had little choice but to join in. Debbie requested my tie for costume purposes, and I obliged. Dancing and cavorting continued for some time, myself and Ann just having a laugh mainly, and then us all being swept up in a big circle with Emma Jones, Sharon Mooney, Fallon Leddy, Kieran Towey, and a few others for 'Fairytale of New York'.

It was hammering down outside, but we managed to get a lift back, oddly enough. Thank God.

Some thoughts on escaping...

The day after Stephen's Day was generally spent lounging on the couch at home, watching The Great Escape. I always forget how good the film actually is, and ven when I do remember its quality, I tend to think of it as a rather chirpy piece. So I was rather startled to find a small lump in my throat when 'the Mole' was shot trying to struggle over the wire, and when James Garner tells Richard Attenborough that even though the almost blind forger, Donald Pleasance, is a hazard to the escape plan, he'll take him along with him.

I was reminded of how Eddie Izzard was saying that the reason he thinks The Great Escape is shown every Christmas is because everybody feels trapped, stuck for days on end with family members they'd never normally see. The film acts as a metaphor for what they want to do, to break out of the house somehow. Oddly, I've only felt claustrophobic for about fifteen minutes this holiday, as squabbling took place while getting the table ready for dinner on Christmas Day. I retreated to my room until the vein on my temple had stopped throbbing.

Looking at the film really whetted my appetite for Tuesday. I know the film is shot round Bavaria, and Frankfurt's in Hesse, but what the Hell, it's still Germany, and I'm really looking forward to getting back there. It'll be my fifth visit. In 1991, on a school tour, I stayed in a twelfth century castle overlooking the Rhine at a place called Bacharach, and visited Cologne, Koblenz, and Heidelberg, which I'd really love to see again. In 1996, while interrailing with Alan McGaughey, I spent three days in Munich - where we met Neil, Doug, Ali, and Roxanne, but that story can wait for now - and then three days in Berlin a couple of weeks later. In 1999 I stayed with Heinrich in Frankfurt for a few days. It was actually while arriving at Frankfurt's station from Luxembourg via Metz that I first chatted to mad Jeana, the psychotic American with whom I was destined to stay in Paris. It was only a week or two before that visit that Heinrich had experienced his now legendary 'Day from Hell'. I returned to Frankfurt in December 2000 so myself, Heinrich, and Holger could go to Hanno's place in Berlin to see in the New Year.

Gosh. Four trips to Germany, and my German is still atrocious.

I'm looking forward to spending my Euros somewhere other than Ireland. Britain's perversity in that regard still astounds me. Get with the programme, people.

After the film, I ate and got ready to go out. I met Ruth at her house where we exchanged cards and I gave her the signed copy of Neil Gaiman's Coraline that I'd picked up back in October. Into town then to meet Eoin, and then over to Four Dame Lane, a bar which is too col to have a name. I like it there. The music is good, and not too loud - I'm not actually sure how I'd classify the music - and the furniture and decor are great. With high ceilings to boot, it never seems smoky.

It wasn't busy at all. Neither was town in general. Certainly not for the Christmas period. I'm beginning to notice a trend here. It appears that the economic pinch is starting to be felt...

Christmas in Dublin

And finally, today I've been in town in the afternoon, spending the book vouchers which my little brother cleverly gave me. Little? Sorry, Adam's almost 22. But he's still the youngest of the clan, so 'little' it will have to remain.

Book vouchers are really an ideal gift for me, since I'm as bibliophiliac as I am ergasiaphobic (thanks, Shaw), and whenever people give me books they run a risk of giving me something I already have. With nearly 1,500 books weighing down my shelves, this is understandable. So I cheerfully picked up P.G. Wodehouse's fourth Jeeves Omnibus in Hodges Figgis, and then on noticing that the Hodges Figgis Vouchers also worked in HMV I eventually worked my way up to HMV on Henry Street, where I bought Eddie Izzard's new Circle DVD. I would have got it in Grafton Street, but it was sold out there; a quick phone call established its availability on Henry Street.

Strangely, neither Henry Street nor Grafton Street were packed. Fairly busy, yes, but nothing like I would have expected for the Sales. I found this mildly unnerving. It's probably bad news for the economy.

Doing research in Manchester, rather than job-hunting in Dublin, may have been the right career choice for me at this point.

It was fun to stroll around town today, though I feel rather bad at having screwed up my timing; I had wanted to get out to Ranelagh to meet up with Rachel for a coffee, or at least have one while she was working; she was due off at five, and I didn't finish doing things in town till nearly six. But yes, it was really good to stroll around.

One of the odd things about Dublin is that wherever you go you meet people. It's like a giant village. I don't know if David 'Indy' Hudson is reading this, but if you do, you'll remember that weird day when I just kept bumping into people I knew from totally different places. In Hodges Figgis alone I met Simon Spence and Aideen Hartney, two former Classics postgrads from UCD - they were key players in the batch that finished just before myself, Alison, Lucy, Claire, Heinrich, Fiona and the rest all started. So, chatted to Simon for a bit, and then, after buying my Wodehouse, met Michael Finucane on the way out of the shop. Michael, inexplicably known as 'Fred' , did a four year course in International Commerce with Italian, back when I was doing Commerce, dropping out of Commerce, and doing Arts. We got to be really good mates, especially during our final year as undergrads, and then never saw each other. Since finishing my degree I've seen Fred twice. On the night of Cathal Delaney's Stag Party I was sitting with Dave, Cathal, and loads of Cathal's friends in O'Neill's of Suffolk Street, when I noticed that at the side of our group were, bizarrely, Michael Scully and Fred. Mick Scully is a sports journalist now - I can't remember which paper he writes for. Last time I saw Fred was a dull May morning in 1997, as I was waiting by the Number 10 bus stop near O'Connell Street bridge. Basically where I am now, oddly enough. I was rushing out to UCD for Greek test, and he was rushing into work, so a few hurried words were exchanged and then we shot off in our separate directions. So, needless to say, it was great to meet up again. Having gone to the trouble of exchanging e-mail addresses this time, perhaps it won't be so long till our next meeting, please God.

Aside from the people I met, there were the ones I just spotted. Was that Liam Donnelly, who I taught in Leeson Street, in Hodges Figgis? Was that Tara Wickham, from UCD Arts, but the year ahead of me, in Temple Bar? Was that Ruth Kelly from Drumcondra and UCD just coming on to Suffolk Street?

Dublin is great at Christmas, it has to be said. Meeting so many old friends again, as the emigrants, however briefly, come home: tonight I'm due to meet Colum, Alan, and possibly Eamonn in some pub on Capel Street. I haven't had a drink with Colum since, I think, September 2000 or so, and it must be a year since I've had one with Eamonn. I saw Alan, albeit briefly, a couple of times over the summer. And the city itself does look quite impressive when illuminated at night; not just the classic set-piece buildings and bridges, but so many other ones that you never notice by day.

I popped into the G.P.O. on the way here, and was delighted to see that they've got the same crib in place as they had last year. Joseph, rather inappropriately, looks like Osama Bin Laden, and the wise men look like cartoon terroists. There are paintings in the background, showing Mary, the infant Jesus, and what can only be described as 'Evil Joseph'. If you're reading this in Dublin, go and see it. It's brilliant.

Ho Ho Ho.