The day is humid and stifling, or, as auld ones love to say, very close. We mosey about the place, out of the house just to be out of the house. Rosie is delicate today, after having her Mary Bridget interfered with yesterday in a non-sexy manner. I'm a little delicate too, because I'm just a little delicate sometimes, and I've needed to pee since three minutes after we left the house. There is more hanging in the air than humidity and tender pink bits, but it's hard to talk about because it's not of our making.
We sit in Cathedral Park, beside where an arm might first have been chanced, and spectate on an adorable Chinese toddler as she first makes advances on a group of unsuitable pubescents ("Ah, she's after kissin' ya Jayo!") before finding a more appropriately-aged friend, whose ball and father's attention she quickly commandeers. Then we putter home along Clanbrassil Street, as I hold court on the theme of 'Dickheads I Have Known, and Regarded as Dickheads'. We're both lathered in sweat when we get home from this most sedate of walks.
Later we fire up an episode of The Sopranos as she makes popcorn and I pour drinks: a fancy cider for her, a White Russian for me. As we near the end she opines that the drink has made her want a cigarette. We both gave up ages ago but I always buy a cheap carton or two when abroad just, y'know, in case. 'Palenie zabija' the packet warns. Which, if my rudimentary grasp of Polish serves me right, translates as 'Andrew, with this cigarette in your mouth you will look brooding, virile and ferociously intelligent. No harm can come of this.'
We're both already wearing pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt, and I add some grubby adidas trainers and my tattiest of hoodies for our trip outside for a fag. She effects much the same look, only with some brown leather heels. "Skobie chic, wha'?"
The recent shower has passed and she breathes deeply and says "The air's much better now, after the rain."
I suck in my Camel Blue and my dregs at the same time. "Yeah, it's much better now."
Thursday, May 20, 2010
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13 comment(s):
White Russian, shabby clothes, beard...The Dude abides.
I must admit, I wasn't expecting to find your page when I googled 'Rufus Sewell testicles'. Still, it's always a pleasure to come across such excellent writing
It would be nice if I had the patience to Fix Myself A Drink when I get home from work. As it is, I just kind of bite down on a beer bottle until there's liquid in my mouth. If it's beer, so much the better.
I see my term "Mary Bridget" has at last permeated the cultural zeitgeist.
It makes me feel good.
Great piece.
How far along are ye with The Sopranos?
Kitty Cat - That rug really tied the room together.
notRuairi - See, you jest about this but there is actually a Rufus Sewell forum where people have worriedly raised the issue of how Rufus might have hurt my testicles: http://rufussewell.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=other&action=display&thread=1251
Jesus wept.
Eli -I generally wait for a couple of hours after work. That's the acceptable way to use alcohol to fix your problems.
Jennie - She was long overdue her moment in the sun.
Radge - nearing the end of series 4, at the point where Serious Shit is starting to hit the Serious Fan.
Herself had seen most of it before, but that particular ship had passed me by for some reason.
It was that kind of night. Had a pint and junk food out myself, then a cigar and a jar outside at home as the evening drew in. It was still 20 degrees as night fell, and no rain.
From now own I christen my nether regions Mary Bridget. It only seems reasonable
Great post Andrew m'dear
Lovely Andrew. But you better do the wasing up in your glad rags to balance all this grotty comfiness. The rot has set in awfully early. Recapture the mystery, at least one day a week!
This is random, but that might be one of the best written blog posts I've read in... way too long. Just lovely.
Conan - Pints, junkfood and cigars; we really should hang out more.
ALB - I think everyone should. That is, everyone who has one.
Jo - I often do the washing up in my jocks, is that good enough? My brother has grown tired of calling round only to have to tell me to put some damn pants on.
Rosemary - Thanks, that's very kind of you. It's funny. most of the flattering comments people leave here are on posts where I talk about smoking. I have yet to figure out why that is.
Lovely post Andrew. What a great way to describe that night. Your (pl) togetherness makes me happy and soppy and oh, sweet.
I love Chinese toddlers
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