Was at the amazing Codes gig on Saturday night, and got to take some photos. My mate Eoin even put me on the guest list as Steven Nolan (Photographer). Take a look on flickr, clcik the widget on the right, but here are my favourite three pics of the night:
Ok, so it’s Monday, I’m in Dublin, Pam is in RTE, and I am hanging out on the net waiting for her to get home. When BANG, into my ears comes a rare delight, via both Pam and Kilko:
These guys, CODES, are absolutley amazing. I have blogged about them below, but this song is so good, it deserves a second outing. Catch them this Saturday, the 5th of July at The Academy, Dublin. This single, out now, is on iTunes, and I am sure in other more mainstream sources.
Trains are funny things. Having grown used to getting the poverty express to Dublin (i.e. the Citylink Bus) I found myself one Friday evening running late for a pressing engagement (seeing Pam). I had no option but to spend the GDP of a small African country to be transported by the wondrous Iron Horse.
The train presents a great opportunity for people spotting, and with a reduced likelihood of getting stabbed in the eye for looking at a fellow passenger sideways. So today I present to you dear reader,
THE GUIDE TO TRAIN PASSENGERS.
– The OAP
The OAP is a fixture on trains, and may as well be dispatched early on. Usually doddery (but sometimes fleet of foot and savvy) the OAP will barrage you with questions from the get go. ‘Is this the train to Killarney’ they will ask everyone the come across. And everyone will tell them that in a way it is, but in another way, well, it isn’t. You see the concept of changing trains perplexes the OAP, and when the little flashing signs on the doors, very avant garde, say Dublin Heuston they get flashbacks to the 1956 Railway Cup Final, and the Dub who stole their bottle of tae. Wasn’t all bad though, he left the sammidges. The OAP will extoll the virtues of train tea, but then again we all do, and fret constantly about missing the Mallow change.
Not to be messed with, they fiercely guard their seat, and tell stories of a time when Stevensons Rocket ran on the line to Fenit, and the fun they had for thrupence. Long maligned but train commuters and young people, I say we should embrace OAP’s. They are a pleasant distraction when all you have sitting before you is an essay on Law Reform, Malaysian harm reduction figures, and your iPod is dead. They might even buy you a second cup of cha.
– The Businessman
Again here the businessman, or more appropriately the businessperson, can be divided into two categories, the one who shows up exactly on time, strides onto the train, unfolds his FT and wafer thin laptop, connects up a HSDPA modem and conquers the Tokyo market silently, like a shark circling a gazelle in a scuba suit, and the other type, the ed faced, sprinting sweat ball, who pries the moving door open with his fingertips, uncrumples a business report form the Manorhamilton office, and shouts obscenities through his Blackberry to Michelle, his poor PA. The businessman has no time for the trolley, or poor Petra who is driving it today, mostly because she will not make him a soya extra hazelnut half foam triple caf expresso.
Avoid the businessman. It was only result in a feeling of misery as you get an earful of the abuse being fired back to the office, along with a faceful of spittle when he gets excited, or abject disillusionment as you realise you will never, ever make as much money as this guy, or be as cool as him.
– Housewives
It is a fact as old as time, and universally recognised that the second favourite form of transport for the Mammy (after the 96 Escort) is the train. Luxury at its finest, ‘Sure I can stretch out me legs if I get the pains in me varicose veins’, Mammy’s relish in the splendor of the 1300 hours service from Mallow to Portlaoise, where they are going to visit Declan, or Deco, the black sheep who went to college in LIT and ended up a drug dealer. She loves a slice of Finn McCool’s fruit cake does Mammy, although its not as good as her own, but she doesn’t trust the toilets, the ticket machine, or for that case, the doors and the platform, too much technology. On the journey Mammy is guaranteed to make at least two phone calls, one to her daughter who is collecting her from the train, to say she’s on her way, and one to the daughter who dropped her off, to tell her she made it on ok. These calls are never in the order you expect, nor are they necessarily at the time you would either.. My theory is that Mammy is simply testing her phone, to see if it works when she’s moving.
Mammy may also, at a random point in the journey, pull out her phone and call a friend, who’s house she just passed. She will also watch the road for cars she might know, and may even salute them out of habit. Mammy is not a great companion, as she has the phone mannerisms of the businessman coupled with the quiet but unceasing panic of the OAP.
– College Kids
Yes I have to admit it, student fares on trains rock. So much so that the Friday evening train from any major college town to well anywhere really is usually populated in the main by the youth. Stoned slacker kids, who talk about where they are going to buy weed now Deco is locked up again, sporty types who do wind-sprints along the aisles, Comm Babes talking loudly into phones about last night in Coppers, Feddies, CP’s, Trinity Rooms or any other nameless club and the guy they got a shift off, to friends at home, too stupid to be allowed do a FETAC course, but who live their lives through their college friend in return for doing their nails for free in May’s Beauty Parlour, the entire college existence can be found here. There are also any number of gig goers, drinking exchange students and nerdy types who extract a ring binder and pour over constitutional notes, or really hard sums for the duration.
Students are gems of travel. Constant reassurance means that even if they miss their stop or connection, they know they can ring Daddy, or Mammy if she’s back from Portlaoise, and they’ll drive from Charleville to Limerick to connect them. Sure they are loud and often times can be annoying, but their conversations are more interesting to earwig on than the businessman’s rants about that prick in accounts who won’t authorise the EER for the MPC that is needed for the Qualtrans order like yesterday.
So, adopt a student, or failing that an OAP. And for god sake, if you want to travel with your iPod in and your nose in a book, take the bus.
Notes With No Commas 