Thing 356 Bell Ringing (Campanology)

When I was small, Nana used to bring me and Thorny Wire down to Clancy's Strand by the river. Across the Shannon, St Mary's Cathedral, which was built in 1168 (I tend to love old stuff, historical stuff) used to ring out every day. It wasn't just gong-gong nonsense, it was proper bell ringing, in tune and in time. I'd actually forgotten about that sound until Monday night.

Campanology is the art of bell ringing. It's not just pulling on a rope, any idiot with a pair of hands and half a brain who started a stupid Project can do that. This is an art, and it has competitions, serious teams who practice every week, and it's one of the oldest forms of art in the world. Also, it's another thing that Limerick people apparently kick ass at doing. The St Mary's Cathedral Bell-Ringers just won the South Division competition like three days ago. They won the All-Ireland in 2008. The Redemptorists Bellringers are several times champions.

The lightest of the bells in St Mary's is six hundred weight. The top weight bell is just over a ton and a quarter. That photo down below is not sideways, it's a ton a quarter of bell, re cast in 1907 being swung from a rope down below. Check it... a ton and a quarter...
The way it works: Eight bells, the smallest is called the "treble", the heaviest is the "tenor". Teble's away first with all the others in order of weight following after. The leader then calls a change, inserting one of the later bells in before an earlier one. For example a call of six-two, would mean the number six ringer now changes his tempo and beat to fit in ahead of the number two ringer. After a while, another change is called. Hence the proper, in tune bell ringing that actually takes years of practice.

There's also a rhythm and this where yours truly falls down. Left hand to pull the rope, right hand to catch it, only on the upswing, and guide it down for the next pull. Or something to that effect. I think. Bless 'em, the Ringers in St Mary's were determined that I get it right. So they kept me going back up for practice over and over in between their ringing.

They have a set of practice bells. They're not in the next picture, the next one is me covering my ears to protect me from the sound of the tenor bell in St Mary's, with us standing right next to it...
These are the practice bells. And these are some of the St Mary's campanologists...
The sound of their ringing transported me back to being a child with Nana and Thorny Wire feeding the ducks and swans on the Shannon just by Curragower Falls. It's hard to explain. Things that I think are cool, are not really cool, most people think that they're daft and ridiculous, but I thought bell ringing was amazing. Not just the history of the church, or my own personal history, but the art and ease that these guys did a pretty complex job. The whole thing really.
Mind you, the narrow ass stairs was properly claustrophobic. Worth it for the view from the top. In Limerick and with nothing to do about the town; I highly recommend a visit to St Mary's Cathedral. It's cool. And by that I mean I think it's cool, and you may not.

Thing 355 Walk a Cat

Don't be absurd Daniel. You don't take cats for walks. They're cats, which as everyone knows, are not the same as dogs. They're different things, and as such, come with different behaviours. For example: Dogs love people, while cats are conspiring to kill you when they're not just tolerating your existence. Dogs are loyal to a fault, while cats are still trying to figure out how to use a knife just so they can jam it in your back. It's these fundamental differences that mean that they shouldn't be expected to operate in the same way under specific circumstances, like putting a lead on them.

Alright, I'm aware of the above, but I have a fondness for the absurd, it's why I once wore braids in my hair... Yeah, I'll publicly admit to that now. I may as well, it's not like the lads don't tell that story all the time to embarrass me anyway. I like taking the normal things in life, and moving them about a bit and shaking them also in order to make something different, and to provoke a reaction. Like wearing odd shoes for a day, or wearing fake nails for a day, or dressing like a woman...

So when Keano suggested that I should get myself a "cat-lead" I said: "Don't be ridiculous Keano, that product doesn't exist". But when it turned out that it does exist, I said: "Cool, I'm in". Wow. They were oddly specific quotes weren't they?
So Cat Lady provided me with Fidel Catstro. Isn't she sweet? She doesn't like me very much, I think she suspected me from the word go, and was instantly suspicious of me. That or I didn't leave my prejudice about cats at the door and was looking for the knife. I tried to pet Fidel Catstro to put her at ease. Went down like a lead balloon.

Nothing for it but to jam a leash on the little thing, hope she doesn't scratch the face off me (or my ugly mug, I'm not bitter about that at all), and go for a walk.

Problem 1: Cat claws are excellent for sticking to carpets. They also make an atrocious noise when you try to remove said cat from the ground by leash alone.

Problem 2: When a cat doesn't want to walk, it drops to its haunches meaning that walking the cat actually becomes "dragging a cat".

Problem 3: When people see you dragging a cat they judge the shit out of you, and no arguments about trying to get the cat out into some fresh air, or an improvement of its exercise regime will cut any mustard.
Poor Fidel Catstro. We picked her up and carried her to the end of the block, tried to coax her without dragging her back, while trying to avoid hedges she could hide in and the eternal judgement of all who passed us by. Don't worry, before you go calling the ISPCA, we ended up spending most of twenty minutes not moving, just five minutes trying to drag her to her feet, and then she ended up dragging me all the way back to the house.

Cat can really move.

Cat Lady tells me that Fidel will not speak to her for a week. She thinks that's bad? I'm sleeping with one eye open and I've planned all my escape routes out of town... that cat is coming for me. I'm damn sure of it.

Never try to make a cat do what it doesn't want to, ultimately you'll fail, and you'll have earned eternal hatred...

Thing 354 Carrying the Flag

Now, you see that? That's me on the pitch at Thomond Park. This is commonly referred to as "being a jammy git". It's what happens when nice people find your stupid blog to be mildly amusing and offer to help you out for funsies, and then through mates of theirs manage to get you the chance to walk on to Thomond Park just before the biggest game in Irish Provincial Rugby, in the most historically rich stadium in Europe, waving a giant Munster flag.

Thomond Park is well known for two things at match time: The awesome and incredible noise level as the fans get sucked into the game, and the equally deafening silence that comes with each kick. While on that note, a tip of the hat to the clown who gives Leinster fans a bad name with his "Sexton for Ireland" chant in the run up to O'Gara's kick. If you're reading this, I hope you tripped comically on a banana peel on your way out of the stadium.

There's no place to get a better idea of the noise level then right down on the pitch. The roar as the team came out gave me shivers. You think it's loud in your section of the stand? Trying be on the pitch, where an absolute tidal wave of screams batters you. It's no wonder so many professionals don't like playing against Munster here. That shit is intimidating.

It's part of the pre-match festivities. Members of the Munster's Supporters Club, and the Supporters Club Choir (who are class by the way) sing, beat drums and carry flags onto the pitch. I got to carry one of them there flags and was within whispering distance of the players. I didn't whisper though. That would have been weird.
That there is a nice picture of the legends that organised the whole Thing for me. Aren't they lovely? And die hard Munster fans. How could you not love them?

The Ozzie came with me, because I thought it would be nice for him to see a game of skill and aggression. He's used to watching Ozzie Rules Football, which is, let's be honest, a complete mystery to everyone, including the people who play it. I don't think he was prepared for the atmosphere. Standing in the old players' entrance just prior to taking the pitch. I wondered was this what it felt like for the pros? Then I remembered I was carrying a flag and at no time was I going to be asked to tackle Jamie Heaslip, and I came to my senses.

There was more than a touch of awe to the whole thing. Because, you know, I get all weepy over Munster. I wish that was a joke. I cried both times we won the Heineken Cup.

Then, of all the things to happen... me and the Ozzie got the television....
Twice...
What you're looking at in that photo is a post-manly-hug-smile. It's an awkward moment for all concerned, but I was too happy about winning to care.

It was hilarious. I think just about everyone I know who wasn't at the match texted to tell me that they saw my "ugly mug" on the telly. Seriously, I think like 90% of them used that exact phrase. "Ugly mug"!! Jerkbags, my mom says I'm handsome. So I got like thirty seconds of TV exposure, and I got to walk out the giant Munster flags before kick off. Awesome Thing.

Thing 353 Singles on Segways

I signed up for this Thing when I wasn't single, that was easy. It's easy to turn up to a single's event when you're in a relationship, you can be smug. People in relationships are smug. It's what they do. Being single made this one slightly more daunting. Because now I can't be smug... It's a tough old world out there for singletons. And I really hate being deprived of the opportunity to be smug.

This was really two Things in one. First of all there was the Singles on Segways bit, and then there was the Mingle part. Both of which were in Galway, which as everyone in Ireland knows, is the country's most lovely city. It also has more tourists per capita then any other part of the world, with an estimated five tourists for every local (estimate made up entirely on the spot. Reference required). It also has the world's largest collection of stag and hen nights only being outshone by Templebar in Dublin.

So if you're in Galway and you fancy an interesting date, then I highly recommend Segway Adventures. Sure you're going to look a little silly in the helmet, but you get to ride around on a segway dammit. I want one. I want it so I can glide in and out of the living room and kitchen telling everyone what's what. I want to wear a suit on one and glide about telling people what to do. It's cool... Mind you, we did get heckled a little. Six people riding around Galway on their segways, feeling mildly self conscious about the high vis reflectors and the helmet which barely fits on my giant head.

Thankfully Dr Frasier and The Ozzie looked equally silly... this makes me feel better about myself.

The whole thing was organised by Another Friend.com. It's a dating website, and a friend making website, in case you didn't get that part from the title. I'm assuming you did, because you're not stupid. Internet dating just isn't as taboo as it once was. There's still a bit of a stigma there, but not like there was before. Mind you, for all of my lack of shame, the idea of driving around on Segways as a way to meet a lady... well... You get where I'm going.

I still think it would make an interesting date though. A little on the unusual side, but that's not something to be given out about. If you feel like a sneak peak at Another Friend, you can CLICK HERE.
One of the events and stuff that they do, as I very recently learned, is called a "Mingle". Basically, they invite members to a bar, all on a specific night to have some drinks and pick at some finger food. None of that awkward first date business, because everyone's in a large bunch. Mind you, I still found it a little strange. So I brought a gang. Little Sister, The Canuck, Dr Frasier, The Ozzie and The Singer all came with.

As events go, I'm sure the people at anotherfriend.com were psyched about it, it was a success, sadly, we didn't mingle. We ended up sitting on the outside of the group just shooting the breeze and talking nonsense to each other. It's actually one of our strongest suits. Utter nonsense talking is an art form amongst my mates.

So things learned from this Thing. Segways are awesome. Internet dating, while not for everyone, is certainly no bad way to meet someone, and Galway is an awesome spot for a night out...

Alright I already knew that last one.

Thing 352 Reality TV House

That there is a screen-shot of our kitchen. It's one of the recordings made while we were streaming. Emsie made the suggestion that since I hate reality TV so much, I should rig up my own reality TV show here in The Sluggery. Genius. Invite the entire world to watch me scratching my junk on the couch while I watch old action movies. Who doesn't want to watch that eh?

So we set up three webcams; One in the living room to watch us while we recline. One in the kitchen to watch us making dinner. One on the kitchen window-sill to watch us smoking cigarettes on the deck. Big Brother eat your heart out. Now if only we had a Geordie to commentate on everything we were doing it would have been aces.

After the initial excitement of getting everything set up it got kind of boring pretty quick. Dr Frasier was watching from home. He got bored after fifteen minutes and started urging everyone to kiss each other to liven the whole thing up. Think he's got some voyeur issues.

We tried to liven up the every day tasks. Making lunch while on a unicycle was interesting. Token Northy's combination of unicycle and crutches made for fun viewing. Particularly when he fell. That's always comic gold. We tried wearing funny hats and wigs while we watched television, and I did a little shaking of my rump while I cooked. But it was all pretty lame. I mean, there's only so much you can do to spice up what are pretty ordinary tasks.

I felt we were getting a little boring. I turned on the ustream channel to see the number of viewers. At any one time there were about fifteen people viewing. Fifteen people watching me shake my ass while I made fajitas. It's not an especially fine ass, there's little in the way of excitement or eroticism to this. Big Red described it as the "worst porn ever". He's an absolute gent of a charmer. Smiley face.

We played pictionary and chilled out, while eighteen people watched us. It's a strange ass feeling knowing that people are watching you chill in your living room. We all pretended we weren't self conscious, but I totally was. Pony Boy left and headed for Little Flower's house. I know that he says it was because he wanted to, but I'm thinking it was to get out of the glare of public attention. He couldn't deal with the fame. Stardom is too much for some people.

Mates were texting me all day to tell me that they could see me and found it too voyeuristic to continue watching. Some people stayed tune though. So we had some wine and we cracked out the guitars and the harmonicas and started a jamming session. Hell, we even took requests from people, that's the kind of decent giving people we are.

Total Views of The Deck: 154

Total Views of The Living Room: 484

Total Views of The Kitchen: 314.

That's a lot of people watching nothing but us. Apparently reality TV is just that enthralling.

About the height of the excitement was spotted by Little Sister and I don't think a whole lot of other people. It was about half one in the morning. Lady Northy cracked out the Sing Star, she sang It's Raining Men with me, Token Northy and The Frenchman as back up dancers.

God I hope no one was recording that one... One thing is for sure, I definitely don't like reality TV any more now than I did before.

Thing 351 The Early House

Firstly, to be clear, I've been in an early house before, this is not a new thing. It's kind of a Limerick tradition that after your debs, you head for the Horse and Hound for breakfast and a pint. The difference that makes this a Thing for The Project is that I've never gone into an early house for my first pint of the day. I've been up drinking all night (I've had an adventurous and slightly debauched youth) and gone to an early house, and I've had pints in the morning hours before, but not like this.

One of my pet hates about shift work is that I don't have a Friday night. For those working nine-to-five (and now you're singing Dolly Parton, I just know you are), there's Friday night to look forward to. When I lived in Dublin, Friday evenings in Harcourt Street's bars were just choc-a-bloc with suits as everyone started the weekend unwind. Pints after work. It's an institution. Friday night is where it's at these days.

Since my normal shift pattern ends on a night shift, and can end on any day of the week, my Friday night is usually on a weekday morning at about eight o'clock. It's not fair. I gripe, but no one listens. Ever since I started shift-working I've been promising myself a morning like this one. Breakfast in the Horse and Hound with a few pints. I'll have my Friday night while you're all having your Wednesday morning...

Hee Hee works with me and Token Northy, and he's game for a laugh, so I recruited him to help with the excess. That way I'm not walking into an early house at eight in the morning to drink on my own, which could probably be considered problematic. Thanks be to Hee Hee for covering me on this one.

We were in place in the bar for the eight o'clock news. Outside the door traffic was building up as people started their midweek commerce. Kids were on the way to school, street cleaners were busy making the city presentable and truck drivers were making their deliveries for the day's business. Inside, two clowns were sitting down to a massive feed and a nice creamy pint.

We shot the breeze and talked about this and that like anyone does on a Friday after work, but it just wasn't the same. In fact, it was a little weird and slightly unsettling. We weren't the only ones drinking, which I thought was odd. It's really not a time for it, and the day just keeps getting brighter. We moved on at about ten or half past to another early house not far away.

It was heaving. Wedged with people drinking and chatting. At half ten in the morning. It's just not something I'm used to seeing. One chap with a thick London accent kept insisting he was from Cork and began slagging and berating all the Limerick people. He was beyond drunk and the atmosphere was turning a little unpleasant. I was still trying to compute the amount of people who were drinking heavily by the time half past midday rolled around.

Hee Hee and I headed for Austin's. My favouritest of favourite pubs. At this point I was feeling massively self-conscious. We were passing people with kids, out for their lunch, we walked passed people running errands and taking a break from their working days, and at this point we'd been drinking for four and a half hours.

We had a few more, because, hey, we're out now, we may as well drive on. But it got more and more uncomfortable and less and less fun. The moral of the story? Drinking is only fun when everyone else is doing it. I can safely say I won't be doing that style of "Friday night" again in a hurry.

Thing 350 War Fleet Bid

Observe, if you will, the HMS Ark Royal. It's an air craft carrier. Bet you've never tried to buy one of these bad boys? I put in a handsome bid of two hundred euro. Dr Frasier estimates that when it does get sold, it'll be for somewhere about the two-billion mark. Mine is a tad short of that, but I get the feeling they're going to be badly stuck for buyers, so I'm hoping they'll give my bid some serious consideration.

I didn't stop there though. What on earth is the point in having your own aircraft carrier if you can't put out a few destroyers to back up your flagship. So I bid fifty euro each on the HMS Exeter, the HMS Southampton and the HMS Nottingham. I'm going to have the best private fleet in the whole of Ireland.

You can definitely pick up chicks in an aircraft carrier...

Here's a funny story for you, and I can't for the life of me find a link to it, but it is a true story, I can 100% guarantee that (not a guarantee, terms and conditions apply, story probably true though, and if not, it should be). In the '90's the US was selling decommissioned military facilities, which included a nuclear bomb plant. A guy bought it. A week later the US Government realised their mistake. They'd accidentally made a guy into one of the world's nuclear superpowers.

Imagine the God-Complex that comes with that one. Hi, I'm Jim, and I'm a nuclear superpower. If your dog ever shits on my lawn again, there's going to be some serious repercussions... You definitely don't want to be the guy that cuts him off in traffic.

So here's hoping the British Government makes the same mistakes that the Yanks did way back when. Then I'll have a bigger fleet than the Irish Navy. At which point I'll make subjects of all of you, and turn The Sluggery into the capital of Ireland. Pony Boy can be the Minister for Fun.

I find it odd, and even a tiny bit alarming that this kind of firepower is so readily available on a public website. If you fancy buying yourself several destroyers and an air craft carrier, here's your chance...

Buy an air craft carrier here.

Buy three destroyers here.

So, loyal subjects to be, you better start currying for favour now, because not everyone is going to make the cut when I've got my own air craft carrier to kick all of your asses... Be afraid, be very afraid.