Strange days and holidays

Thursday was bitter cold. Bitter as a 70-year-old virgin. The painter’s fingers quickly turned a Smurf blue as he put masking tape on the windows. I helped as best I could with coaching and encouragement - Another one down, Lar. You’re motoring now. I’m sure he appreciated my assistance though he never said. Must be the silent type I suppose.

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He got something in his eye and spent Friday at the hospital. His wife came though. She owns a cleaning company and offered to have the place scrubbed down in lieu of a house-warming gift. That’s a bit of a misnomer seeing as it isn’t a new house, just an extension to an old one. So strictly speaking her services were in lieu of an extension-warming gift. But that sounds like something you’d buy on eBay and hope the postman wouldn’t (mis)read the customs label.

I checked on her at lunchtime. We’re flying, Primal. The windows were a curse though - took hours - them fekin builders never took the tape off them. I suggested she let Lar know that - he’d be very interested. I got a quizzical look. Ok. I was going to call anyway to see how he was getting on with the eye. I made a hasty exit.

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The cat turned up on Saturday after a three week absence. He was barely able to walk. Puss (appropriately for a cat) was oozing from a wound on its throat. Obviously there had been a fight and he’d lost and had been lying in a ditch somewhere. Now I hate cats, but I felt sorry for it. Something had to be done.

I called the vet. White male - approximately 3 years old - gangland victim - heavy discharge from infected wound on neck - deep laceration to left foreleg - dehydrated - impaired mobility - possible euthanasia candidate. Okay, Mr. Sneeze. You’d better bring him in. What’s his name? Name? I don’t know. He’s a stray then? No. He was one of three white sibs - Disclaimer, Terms and Conditions. Two died from trafficitis. I could never tell one from the other. Trafficitis? Yeah. Severe trauma to the torso caused by pneumatic tyres on heavy goods vehicles. I see. So what name will I put in the computer? Anonycat. What? Well it’d be stupid to call it Anonymouse.

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Nervy Neighbour wanted to have a chat. He was having trouble with Nasty Neighbour again. We could have a pint. Pints are great catalysts for sorting out the woes of the world.

The pub was buzzing but not a barhound in sight. We stood there playing spot-the-barman. One bustled in all hot and bothered. The soccer? The soccer is it? Room down the hall there. Eh, no we w… Oh, the rugby. On in the lounge. No, we ju… Yee’re grand then - the racing’s on here. NO! We just want two fekin pints, ya tool!

That Irish publicans are more interested in sport than drink was another woe we added to the world’s ever growing list.

We hadn’t even gotten to start on the list when Strange Fellow plopped himself down between us. Know anything about car seats, lads? Are you giving up the window cleaning business and going into car valeting? No I am not. I bought a car. An 06 Saab. Well fair play to ya. After years riding around on the bike it’ll be great comfort. So what’s wrong with the seats? I can’t fit me ladders in. I’ll have to take out the seats. Do yee know how ya do that?

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I’ve been needing two RJ-45 connectors to finish networking the office. Two lousy pins. Do you think I could get them? Not a hope in Hades. The so-called geeks in PC World never heard of them. I didn’t mind the blank looks from the staff in the hardware stores, but in PC World - com’on lads, get your act together. A local electrical supplies shop, Wesco, had them. 50c each. I suggested the guy behind the counter perform a sexual act on his own person if he thought I would pay 50c for something worth about 15c. I am a man of principle after all. Bad language, but principle. Principally bad language.

I could get them from an Irish online supplier, Komplett. €2 for a 10 pack. Excellent. €13 postage. Shite. They could perform the same act.

Maplin in Blanchardstown had them at a reasonable price, but I would join the folks at Wesco and Komplett in their new pastime if I was driving all that way just for two pins.

Would I go to Argos on Sunday morning and collect stuff? Ok. Maplin is near there so I could get the RJ-45 connectors. Men are from Maplin, women are from Argos. Fact. The women in my life happily spend hours poring over the Argos catalogue - I get as excited as a hungry baby in a topless bar with the Maplin catalogue in front of me.

But letting me loose in an electronics store is as dangerous as letting a woman loose [double checks order of those words] in Macys at sales time. I came home with a cordless screwdriver, a network tester, a solar-powered battery charger, a watch case opener and a simcard reader. All of which I will probably never use. Unlike the RJ-45 pins which I will. Or would have used, if I hadn’t left them behind on the counter.

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Today is the day we celebrate St. Patrick driving the snakes up ladders without passing go or something like that. Maybe it’s the time he went camping with Tara and he lit a fire to cook shamrock while she played with his crozier. I’m not really sure any more. Sometimes I get mixed up between the St. Patrick’s Day we have in Ireland and the St. Patty’s Day they celebrate in America.

All I know is that I am to drink pints today as required by law. They will be black ones as they always are. I will wear jeans. They will be blue ones as they always are. I will express my wish that a friend be happy. I will say happy birthday to her as I always do on March 17.

It’s a bank holiday. Our national day. No one else’s. What could possibly go wrong?