After my driving lesson yesterday, I was distraught. Why does Attila (my instructor) keep stopping the lesson half way through for a toilet emergency. Once might be understandable, but it’s becoming a habit. Is he sending me a not so subliminal message that my driving skills are less than adequate? Or does he just have a sensitive tummy? I choose to go with the latter option. My motoring skills are progressing – at a snail’s pace maybe. Slowly, steadily wins the race. I’ll get there in the end. I will have a license by June – it might not be next June granted. But by some June in the future. Continue reading A tribute to George Michael
Once upon a time there was a girl from Farnborough in Hampshire who shared a flat with an anti-social cat named Midnight; an anti-social Dutch gentleman called Muis; and yours truly. One evening she came home from work pronouncing the wonders of a Canadian singer named Peaches. I listened to the song ‘Fuck the pain away’ and I loved it. What an incredibly aggressive; rhythmic; funky song. The lyrics served notice that this singer was no wilting flower.
Continue reading The Peaches gig… and why I am a convert
This evening I went to see a show in the Spiegeltent on Merrion Square. The Tiger Dublin Fringe Festival began on Saturday. Tonight’s show was called ‘Hot Brown Honey’. Continue reading Theatre review: ‘Hot Brown Honey’
Last week it was announced, that the popular music combo ‘Red Hot Chili Peppers’ were playing a gig in the Point Depot near my house on December 20th. Being a creature that grew up in the 80s and 90s, this was thrilling news. Not only was their music gripping to my teenaged soul, I also had strong feelings for the lead singer Anthony Kiedis. Continue reading Red hot chili bastards
Last night was the first night of my summer holidays. It began will with an outdoor concert in the Iveagh Gardens, where my teenage dream band Pixies were playing a gig. Continue reading A wave of mutilation
Today is the 20th anniversary of the release of ‘Wannabe’ by the Spice Girls, and thus began the imperial era of Ginger, Sporty, Baby, Scary and Posh. When they bestrode the world like a tuneless colossus of Girl Power. While I liked them (Ginger in particular – her inarticulacy in no way diminished her fabulosity) I have to admit that I was a bit too old to appreciate them properly. My seven year old sister adored them – running around the house randomly shrieking ‘Girl Power’ like a cackling banshee. Continue reading I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want