i always liked wintered Wednesday nights, especially at home in Cavan and i remember them as quiet, with little traffic and little weather, the smoke from chimneys on Church Street hanging in the cold air, a few shops open and the sheep market coming to a close. The thirteen bars busy and we looked forward to Thursday, followed by the weekend. I still like the day of Mercury up here inda BIG schmoke of Dublin, a kupplah more days of work and sure then its the two days off, the relaxed assiduities of those on the move and the chance to win peanuts by buying the two lines with the plus. Football, watched on the surplus channels by those looking for entertainment tell me that life’s alright, and i guess it is, it’s so good; sure baby we may go and get something to eat, the dogs can be walked tomorrow.
. . . and we do, to the newest and hippest restaurant in town, SuperMissSue or SMS as itill be known soon. I got there first, after drinking a pint in the socialist bar on South William Street, licking my wounds as some chick with a nose ring and wearing a fur coat asked me if it mattered whether it was real or not and i told her IT DID MATTER but she was having none of it.
. . . i got to the “new cafe bar across by the hairy lemon” first but didint know ifitt was the one that wifey had asked me to meet her at, so i went forra pint in P. Macs and waited there and eventually wifey shows up and we finish our drinks and leave for SMS.
Weed like a table for two?
no problem, how ‘bowt this one?
thanks, thatz great
. . . and we sat down atta fine table for two by the industrial styled window, looking out at P. Macs and Break for the Border, where eyel play pool on Saturday evening with the Romanian who eyel beat and then heel be my pussie.
The menu is brought to us and it was the finest, all the usuals for a seafood restaurant and at seafood restaurant prices. Babee told me there were oysters, eyel havva half dozen of them so, i said an’ sure eyel have the Battered Cod with skinnie chips but she changed her mind and pronounced sheed eat the Gravadlax followed by the special, which was Tuna Confit. Thinking i might have food envy i requested the battered morsels, clams, cocktails and mussels to go with my five Carlingford and one Connemara Rock Oyster. Of course wine was needed so we asked your man for two glasses of the house plain which came out offa tap, like a beer tap, and i thought of the bars in Kingscourt that sell Mojitos on tap, but you don’t pronounce it Mojito, you say mowjeetow.
Itza nice cafe, therza take away at the rear but those in the know call it a CERVI, the toilet is right in the middle of the place and they’ve made a BIG deal about itt, itz like like a feature such as an alabaster elephant, with an old refrigerator door that you have to hunk to one side, and once inside you’re met witha fantasic photo of Roz Purcell and that dude who works in Baggots Hutton dressed azzan old diver man, with Roz wrapped around him wanting to make out, but heez not that interested. Therz the one toilet shared by both sexes with a luvvely message on the tiles above the loo asking the men to aim true and eyem sure we doo . . .
The food arrives and mines alive, accompanied by the wine which is fine. In no time at all itz all gone, but eyem still hungry so i ask this pleasant chick for anudder six of the best, but wifey is full, sheed like no more food. I tasted her tuna before she ate it all and it was good, she said it was “incredible“, “it was luvvely, really tasty, it’s like a posh tuna sandwich“. She asked if eyed like some of her gravaldax which was “luvvely” too, actually it was “citrustastic” i told her nah, i was alright, but thanks love.
Forran hour anda half we talked, butteye was tired and full of food after having eaten 18 oysters, andaa small bucket of battered morsels, so the deicison was taken that weed leave and go home and walk the two bitch faces, but we didint, we ended up in the Orchard witha pal drinking Carlsberg and wine and gins with tonic, eating cheese and onion crisps and watching City beat Rovers five nill in the old cup competition. The fire was lit and the bar was busy, and outside it was cold with very few chimneys in use.
Wednesdays are still the same.