The Mighty Cold

It’s early. Very early. The person in question is wrapped up extremely snugly in bed. It’s like a fort. Fort Warm. So well is he wrapped up that no cold air can infiltrate his fort of warmth even as mighty as the colds troops may be. He is in that state, you know, when you are kind of awake but still mostly asleep. The kind of state where you know you could wake up if you wanted to but you are far too comfortable and warm to do so and its very easy to lapse back into the coma you were in five minutes ago. No you stay in that state, aware but not awake.

Movement. Somewhere outside Fort Warm a door has opened and cold air is pouring through. We will call this door to the cold Colds Gap. “So the cold has a few tricks does he?” thinks the man. He retreats further under the walls of Fort Warm while five shadowy figures pass through Colds Gap. The man is more aware now. He can hear the faint scuff of slippers on a wooden floor. He knows whats coming and he thinks he is prepared for it. The cold and its minions have battled with Fort Warm before and this time they have a new trick. The man curls into a ball under his cozy walls pulling them closer and prepares himself for a wild and vicious assault. There is a small giggle and then sudden silence. What the man doesn’t know is that the fifth of these shadowy figures isn’t human.

A wet nose somehow breaks under the bottom of his warm walls of warmth and touches his foot. “Damn it” the man yells as he pulls back his now slightly colder foot. It’s the horrid hairy four legged beast of the great back garden plains. The beast is so surprised by the man’s outburst it yelps and runs back out through Colds Gap. “Awww Donny. You scared the shit out of the dog” A small voice says. “Just get up so we can open our presents!” This is when the man decides to go out fighting.

As I am trying to wrap at least 2 of my sisters up in my duvet and make a break out colds gap to the bathroom so I can get rid of the "ghost" of drinking past my mother is already up and shouting at us to come and help with the food prep. Christmas morning in my home is never an easy task. There is the rush for the bathroom followed by the rush of get some milk for your crunchy nut corn flakes before its all gone followed by the rush of get the hell in the car we have to go to mass. Mass is forever the same. They sing the same songs, you see the same people and you give the same greetings. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to have mass trough interpretive dance or suddenly jesus himself would appear and tell the church how bloody boring the whole thing was and that some people in the quire really need to learn how to sing or stop singing.

The scene that follows once we are safely back in the comfort of our own home is one of carnage and violence. Never will you see wrapping paper taken off presents in such a bold and vicious way. If one of the presents happened to be a small animal there wouldn’t be much left of it after the opening.

My favourite part of the day is dinner. I never laugh so much as I do at the table in Holycross. At a wedding quiet recently the drama that happens at our table was described as we were being “wonderfully horrible” to each other. I think that you need to be part of a big family to understand how it all works. Lets just say that we are usually holding our sides somewhere between starter and main courses. The day is rounded off nicely by steady drinking the consumption of several tons of chocolates.

My last comment on Christmas is my reaction to the sudden change of weather. It went from about 28 degrees to minus 11 in the space of 2 days.

From this




To this


Merry Christmas everyone and a happy new year too.

Redman

A week worth of moments

We hit Sydney.

I would like to say we hit it "big style", I would like to say we hit the town and painted it red, yellow or whatever colour you paint a town when you hit it "big style" but at this point we were so bloody broke that we were surviving off rusty tins of beans and chicken flavoured noodles. Any money we had went straight into petrol. Life in a purple and green tin can can be harsh. When we arrived into Sydney we were broke, smelly and hungry so the only thing we hit "big style" were the showers. My lawyer (Conor) headed into the centre to chase after some French business transactions (that's for the boys in the exford) and I headed out to Springwood. Jo and Jim Cashman are living saints. To those of you who dont know them they are my Gran Aunt and uncle. While they were about 1000k away in a lovely placed called Colac outside Melbourne they allowed my lawyer and I to stay at their beautiful home in Springwood. It rocks out there. Out in the middle of the Blue Mountains. I can tell you that after spending a week or so living in a bed that had wheels and an engine it was so freaking good to sleep in a bed!

With our bellies filled and our spirits soaring we hit a lovely place called Palm Beach. If you don't know what this beach is famous for you should watch THIS but open it in a new tab.

If that made no sense to you we were at the home and away beach. Now before you go off ranting "Oh god this twat watches Home and Away" (or H&A for the buffs) There was not much else on the cards for two broke Irish guys in Sydney. It was a bit windy but it was still warm so we went for a bit of a surf. It was good but there was only one set back. Seaweed. At one point I turned around to Conor and shouted over the breaking waves "I have NEVER been in this much seaweed in my life." It was no ordinary seaweed. In Ireland you can take baths in the stuff but at H&A beach you could sand wood with it. It was akin to taking a wavy bath filled with sandpaper and fibreglass. Ive head or ex-foliating but this was ridiculous and missing a layer of skin we headed home.



To be completely honest not much else happened in Sydney except Conor and I regenerating lost skin and a bit of down time. We headed south after a day or two to see if we could go canoeing down kangaroo river out in kangaroo valley (bet you can never guess why the area is called Kangaroo Valley!) but Australia is having its worst floods in a few decades and despite Conor and I thinking that the extra few meters of water would make it more fun they were closed because of the weather. So we decided to go climb a mountain instead.

Mt Kosciuszko

Its named after a polish freedom fighter and was first (officially) climbed by a polish explorer in 1840. 170 years later Conor convinced me to go on the 21k trip up four mountains ending with Mt Kosciuszko. I bitched and I moaned but Conors simple encouragement was "Man Up" So with a fierce hangover and half a subway sandwich for lunch we headed out. I didn't regret it. The snowy mountain range in Oz is breathtakingly amazing. There was snow and hills and all the usual explorer titbits. It was the first time I was cold in about 5 months. The walk back to the car was the longest walk of my life. The longest, coldest walk of my life. We slept in the van and it was finally time for the last stretch of our trip. The road to Melbourne.

Now open and play THIS in a new tab and read the next part of the blog.

Is it playing? Right. I have to tell you something my hansom readers. I am back in Ireland. Its cold here, really FREAKING cold I dont know if I can afford to go back to my adventure land. Im a little worried that Il have to start being an adult and all that malarkey and Im also a bit sad that my trip has come to an end. I have come home for Christmas and I promise il give a few updates on what its like in my home at this time of year because it is extremely entertaining.

That last weekend in Melbourne was great. I met my good friends in the exford hotel in Melbourne and caught up with very good friends in St Kilda. I wish I had more time. I miss them and that town. Perhaps I will have some sort of Xmas miracle special and be able to afford to go back but I need to think seriously about what I am to do with myself. Its not all bad. Its great to see my family and friends. Bloody fantastic. Next up will be my Christmas post. Chat soon

Redman

Traveling Madmen part III

After the experience that was Surfers we headed on down to Byron Bay. Here I ended up loosing my Australian phone. Byron Bay was kick ass and if the weather wasnt so bad we would have had a fantastic time. The hostel we parked outside was called The Arts Factory and it was a a pretty laid back place. This particular weekend it was packed with new age hippies their associates. There was also a reggae concert on. So i can tell you that there were stoners everywhere.

The first night we went out and we ended up in a club and I was amazed to see that the ratio of girls to guys was about 4 to 1. After closer inspection I noticed that most of these girls were infact just that. Girls. 4 to 1 ratio and they are all under 18. I remember thinking "Oh christ its surfers all over again" but it turned it to be a pretty fun night out. We chatted to hookers, got free drinks, skipped a massive que to get into a new club and danced our little Irish hearts out. At one point I was told I was the best dancer in the club. Looking around I thought that either shes pissed or no one can dance but I now think it was an extream combination of both.

The next day there was a reggae concert on in the pub across our hostel. The music was nice and loud so we didn't have to pay to get in. It turned out that to go into the pub, get stoned from secondary smoke and listen to a few different bands would cost us 120 dollars. So we just chilled out in the hostel and met 2 very interesting characters. It was late in the evening and Conor and i had gone out to the car to fetch some things. I decided to take the guitar in with me to jam a bit inside mayhap I would attract some new fiends for us to have a laugh with but we never made it inside. As we were passing by some bushes we hear a gruff male voice call out to us "Hey mate, gona come and play us a song?" Peering into the bush we saw two men, a rasta dude and an aboriginal man. They were smoking something that smelt like paint stripper mixed with fertilizer. Conor and I took one look at each other and something of a silent "This could be brilliant" passed between us and we sat down next to them. The rasta dude played a song and it was a classic. For a guy who, at that moment, was having trouble telling left from right he sure could sing. He played a song about imagining having a better life but life was pretty alright as it was. When he finished his aboriginal friend showed us his story stick which was hung around his neck. Apparently "you white guys and the man" are not supposed to be told about them but he blessed us with the story anyway and to be honest im not going to go into detail. I would need to show you guys the stick with he drawings on it to explain it and you lot are all too white to hear the story.

After that night it was time for the long haul drive to Sydney.

More soon

Redman

Traveling Madmen Part II

Whats green and purple, travels at 40kph (up hill) and is full of energy drinks and pasta. If you haven't guessed its our van.



Jucy Lucy is our 1.5 meter tall camper van made from metal and hope. Mostly hope. She got us from Brisbane to Melbourne without much incident, well we did manage to hit a kangaroo but he was fine. Im sure he has a freakish fear of cars now but thats a good thing.....right? The first stop after Brisbane was Surfers Paradise.

I would now like to talk about what I saw in Surfers


Schoolies


Pronounced - school·ie

–noun
1.
a fish that swims within a school.
2.
Australian Informal. a schoolteacher or student.

At this time of year the students in the high school final years are let out of their galvanized country homes to flock....wait....flock is too soft a word SWARM to the gold coast to drink, curse (not very brightly) and fornicate in public. We were convinced to go on one of those "G'day mate! Fancy going on a night out?" trips. We agreed and attended. The drink was good, the music was what you would expect it to be in a series o night clubs and the people were, for the most part, underage. I have never seen such a gathering of underagers in my life. There was, and I shit you not, about 1000 of them crowding the center of town when Conor and I stumbled out of the last nightclub. There were kids dancing on bins, fighting, getting sick, fighting on bins while getting sick, fighting to get sick into bins, fighting bins of sick and being escorted home by either the police or taking the scenic route home via the stomach pump ward and Im relatively sure that the local hospital has a ward dedicated to this by now and if it doesn't it would need one or at least a tent set up on the main beach or something like that.

I felt old.

Old and bitter

I felt, more than once, like going up to one of these "schoolies" slapping them across the face and asking them in my most horrified Irish mammy voice "Does your mother know you are out this late?" or "Do you even know how to spell the word vagina? Get off that girl! I have a some words for you to learn. Fatherhood and child benefit"

I guess i was, in a way, slightly jealous. I looked at one or too and saw me. A younger, drunker me. A younger drunker me fighting to get sick in a bin. Then I remembered. Responsibility is about to hit them. You finish school and the wonderful, criticizing, judging world comes crashing down. Happy with this thought I felt better about the whole thing. Let them have their fun and watch out for the bins in Surfers Paradise.

Redman out

Travelling Madmen

He stumbles out of the tent. Its 6.45am and its already 26 degrees. He has sand in places he didn't know he had, he hasnt showered, had a decent meal, drink or bathroom break in 3 days. He has no clean clothes left. He has cuts on his hands, legs, knees, feet and toes. There are dingos 7 feet to the left, jungle to the right and flies the size of small bats hovering in front of him. He is hungover and he is me.

After i realized I had drank most of a bottle of whiskey (yes of course I shared with Conor) i decided it was breakfast time and fortunately, like me, Conor is also an early riser. This was the third and final day of our trip on Fraser Island and as Conor and I tried in vain to wipe all of the sand off our cooking utensils I thought to myself. "F@#k....this weekend was amazing."

Frasier Island is 122km of white sand, blue water, massive sand dunes and a bit of jungle thrown in for good measure. In the 6 months Ive been away from my broken homeland ive been to many beautiful places. I have seen places, sights and people you read about in books or see in those "DONT YOU WISH YOUR LIFE WAS BETTER? LOOK HOW HAPPY THESE PEOPLE IN COSTA DEL SOL LOOK! BY LAND IN SPAIN!" advertisements on the telly. Nothing measures up to the tranquility and brilliance I experienced on this blessed sand island of wonder. We got to drive a 4 wheel drive jeep that was built in 1992 down dirt tracks and on beaches that would challenge Colm McCray. We swam in fresh water lagoons that God himself would go for a swim. There was wild-life everywhere. All that was missing was a running commentary from David Attenbouragh.

The first day consisted of loading the van up in the hostel we stayed in at rainbow beach. 80 cans of beer, 4 bags of goon and one bottle of whiskey and what ever food there was. Along with 3 tents and cooking gear. Little did we know that most off the booze and food would be gone after the first night. All packed up we squeezed into the jeep......all 8 of us! 2 Irish guys, 1 Welsh man, 2 english guys and 3 english girls. The banter was fierce. 1 boat trip and 40 bouncy minutes later we pulled up on on the biggest fresh water lake on Fraser. Lake McKenzie. No one warned any of us. none of us had a clue and we were all shocked at how FRIGGIN AWESOME IT WAS!! Crystal clear water that was cleaner than any swimming pool Ive ever been in and sand as white as clouds. After gawking at all the ladies in swimwear and a filling lunch we headed to our camp site and began to drink. My night went something like this.

Drinking games
quick walk on the beach
more drinking
scene missing
being chased by bugs
scene missing
Conor shouting something about dingos
running from dingos
more drink
scene missing
waking up in a roasting hot tent

Day 2
As you can imagine it was a bit quieter on the second morning and more than one person was holding their head. A nice walk up Eli creek sorted that out. Amazing clear water and soft sand once again. The banter continued and we headed out to the champagne pools for another swim. Let me stop your train of thought right there. No they were not literal pools of champagne. They were in fact the only safe place to swim in salt water what with the sharks and the jellyfish and the 10 foot waves with rip currents. Its a massive rock pool this is where Conor and I had the great idea of swimming to the front of the pools and held on for dear life as long as possible without being blown back by the massive waves crashing against the walls. On the way there we passed the brown skeleton remains of the (ship name) After it had served the British and ozzy navy it was turned into a cruise liner and then it was sold to the Japanese where on it was beached on the way to japan. After it very ling life of service it was used for target practice by the ozzy airforce. Typical ozzies! Private "its stuck commander what will you have us do?" Commander ".....................lets.........lets blow it up!" So there it sits all rusty and burned out. Bits of warped metal fading away against the waves. A quick trip up indian head for some sight seeing where I finally saw my sought after turtles and we headed back to camp. That night was a milder repeat of the sat night and the following morning was is described in detail in my intro to this blog.



il tell you this, after 2 nights sleeping in and around sand the hostel was like a 5 star hotel. I didnt stop after we got cack tho I headed straight for rainbow beach to do some surfing on waves im clearly not able for. I had an amazing, sandy time on fraser. One of my life ambitions was to see turtles on this island and even tho i didnt get a close as I would have liked I can say, with confidence, that I can tick this off my "things to do in life" list.

We continued south to Brisbane and met with more of my family and we finally have the camper. It is a nice piece of metalwork and as i sit here in Byron bay writing this I can only think that I hope that conor and i have more fantastic manly adventures like we did on fraser. We did have a good time in surfers paradise with all the schoolies plaguing the place and il write more
on that soon.


Redman out