Malaise Forever

What's the feckin' craic here? Did someone switch HAARP on?

It's looking set to be a new pattern for summer in Ireland; a couple of optimistic weeks in April and May when the sun peeks through the advancing Atlantic clouds, the pale skins prickle and tan, and mná na héireann start to take on the look of fertile goddesses....and then it pisses it down for the next two months.

After last years cack-fest of a summer, I reckoned that it must have been a blip. Sitting here drenched again now its looking pretty grim.


The Burger King's Return - An Omen?

As if that wasn't enough, the country itself is returning to its more familiar form as an economic basket case. The land we grew up in is back, but its a little different. Fair enough, the youngfella's have mullets and highlights, tuck their trackies into their socks and wear cheap jewellery, but don't fret. The 1980s have not returned as such, but... Back then we had a 'third world economy' (as it used to be known), where the state owed billions to other governments. This time around, YOU owe the billions. Fuck.


But like many who grew up in the 70s and 80s in Dublin, I do have that dewy eyed nostalgia for certain aspects of those tougher times. NOT this aspect....a little reminder of the post-80s pre-tiger slumpage...

....but just the auld nod in the street to everyone you passsed, where did that go?... and the grey market, its never been as good as it was back then.... and
possibly Troop trackies.



So with all this talk of a return to the 80s, and this shite weather, all it would take for me now to be whisked back to them days would be the aroma of a week old banana at the bottom of a wet canvas schoolbag, with the Inspector Gadget theme as backing track. Crappy days they were, particularly when it came to musical tings. I remember going to see U2 back then in Croke Park in 86 or 87, because there was fuck all else to do. They were fucking awful.


Bono yesterday

Last year I managed to escape for a few weeks to the sun, but this year things are tight. Stuck is the word. I'm still sort of glad I own fuck all in this country but my records, my electronics and my clothes. In 2008, owning is owing.

P's