David Beckham v Greece, 2001 (Two Red Heads)

Two red heads, one blonder than the other, bobbled up and down on a patch of green grass. A white Umbro ball passed between them. They both wore Manchester United jerseys adorned with players names across the back. Keane, 16, on the back of the older boy and Beckham, 7, on the younger. The ball sailed high, bounced off walls and flew between feet. Nothing else captured the attention of the two quite like the great Manchester United, but more importantly, the football. Every evening, they and the other children on the estate gathered in one big group to play ‘World Cup’, or ‘2 v 2’. The object of each game was similar enough in that one or two people would eventually be crowned the winner. The only real loser was the poor fella picked to go in goal if there was an uneven number.
The sitting room window was cracked open a fraction, just enough for the young lads to hear how the match was going. In the centre of Midlands Ireland, where the English nor soccer are that popular, two little ginger boys had a fascination with the beautiful game. England were playing Greece in a crucial qualifier match for the 2002 World Cup. It was sink or swim for the Lions. Of course, the boys didn’t know all of this. They knew that Beckham was playing. And if Beckham was playing, there was a chance he would take a free-kick.

In the dying embers of the game the referee blew his whistle for a seemingly innocuous foul on Teddy Sheringham. The usual protests were made by the defenders but the ball was already in Beckham’s hands. Despite being flanked by Sheringham and Scholes on either side there was still no doubt as to who would take the free. Beckham and his stubbly head transfixed their gazes. His ever changing hair styles were always iconic. This particular barnet was no different.
He placed the ball on the grass and took several steps back. During his trademark run-up and swing of the arms time seemed to stand still for the brothers. They were rooted to the spot, eyes boring into the TV, knowing the other was there and ready to erupt if he scored. His boot connected with the ball and every eye in the stadium, pubs, bars, sitting rooms all around the world and a little garden in Westmeath was glued to its flight. It dipped up and over the wall, fooling the keeper into moving an inch before realising it was out of his reach as it landed almost perfectly in the top, left-hand corner. The net seemed to nearly burst with the power and accuracy of the free-kick.
The stadium erupted. England were through to the World Cup. Beckham ran towards the corner flag and stopped suddently, taking up that now immortal stance with outstretched arms. His two doppelgangers followed suit in Mullingar, jumping and leaping into the air and striking the exact same pose over and over with excitement.

Back in the midlands, less than a minute after running riot around the garden and celebrating the enemy’s goal, the boys were trying to recreate the strike. They must have stayed like that for hours; taking it in turn to be DB7, the greatest deadball striker they would ever see. In that moment they were him and would always be him. Always in that garden, loving the beautiful game and each other.

Afbeeldingsresultaat voor david beckham v greece 2001

Barry’s Rants: The Office

His gravelly voice caught my attention as I rounded the corner. Sitting on one of the slabs outside the GPO, he was bringing a freshly lit cigarette up to his mouth, shielded by a cupped hand. I hadn’t seen him in months. A part of me selfishly wanted to keep walking and act as if I was in a hurry and hadn’t seen him. A little hollow opened up in my stomach and I nearly died of the shame and the embarrassment with myself. I pulled out a cigarette of my own and strolled in his direction. As I neared I called out his name. His diminutive figure twisted around and he craned his neck, struggling to make me out in the sunlight. He pushed back a lock of grey hair from his eyes and began to laugh.

All right kid?! Jesus, bai, I haven’t seen you in ages! I thought you were avoidin’ me to be honest. Are you still writing away, you are? You’re not?! What do you mean, not really? For feck sake, bai, if you’re good at it keep it up. I don’t know if you’re good or not to be honest. You could be shit for all I know like.

You still in the cinema? I’ll be in there next week for some popcorn. I love the stuff. I didn’t know for years you could just buy it. Like, you didn’t have to actually go watch a film. I spent hours of my life watching absolute shite just to fill my mouth with buttery, buttery goodness. The wife was convinced I was having an affair with one of the girls in the local bakery! I don’t know why I kept it so secret. Didn’t really want to share my popcorn I suppose!
Oh, you’re finished up? And where are you now? Ah Jesus, you were always a cute one. A feckin’ data entry job. You’re some hoor. Lounging around the cinema and now sitting on your arse making good money for doing nathing!

Oh I used to work in an office myself. Well, it was a mixture of warehouse and the office, but mainly I was sitting on my hole either in the forklift or the office chair. Some craic, man. There was a good crew of us and we’d all go on break at the same time. I’d say we couldn’t cook toast between all of us, about seven or eight lads and if we were kicked out of home we’d die within the night from hunger! Anyways, we’d all go to the shop together and get a roll or a sandwich whatever every day. By God, did we bankroll that feckin’ shop. Small little unassuming place. Lovely area and a lovely shop, and by God did they make their money off of us. I’d say they were rubbing their hands together with glee when we walked in. Gained a bit of weight in that office, HA! They weren’t long being unassuming. Assuming all our fucking money!
We used go on small break as well. Fuck it, it was like school all over again. Start at 8, small break at ten, lunch at 12, another little break at 2, finish at 4. Good money too for doing sweet FA. Maybe we’re more alike than you think, young Dalton.

Where is this office you’ve been banging on about? Little Island? Jaysus, I’d say you have some trek there every morning. I’d hear about the traffic on the radio like, dya know? I’d say it’s torture. Although I suppose you have the radio to listen to, and every boy and his dog has a feckin’ smartphone now so I assume you can play music on the car too?
No, I keep it simple now and stay at an iPhone 8 plus, I needs a big screen…What’s so feckin’ funny??

21 Bridges – Review

It is odd to hear Chadwick Boseman talk in his normal, American accent. I had become so used to hearing him with an African lilt in Black Panther and Message from the King (2018 & 2016 respectively) that I was half taken aback when he spoke in this movie.
Boseman plays Andre Davis, a celebrated New York city detective who is a tad trigger happy. He claims he shoots in self defense but his reputation still precedes him.
One night, in Brooklyn, two burglars kill seven cops and a bar manager when a robbery goes wrong. They don’t know if they’ve been set up or if they just have terrible luck but now Manhattan is closed down and everybody with a badge and a gun is shooting to kill. This time, though, Davis is asking questions before shooting.

I don’t know why this movie disappointed me as much as it did. In truth, it didn’t disappoint me that much as I knew virtually nothing of the plot other than that it involved multiple bridges, but it did let me down towards the end. It was enjoyable throughout and had enough action scenes to satisfy your average cinema-goer, but the beginning of this film was so intriguing and thought-provoking that it failed to deliver. At just over an hour and forty minutes it felt like it dragged and could have been finished about twenty minutes earlier.
The cast was almost too talented for this poor an offering. Boseman might not be the most gifted actor around but he is above this movie. So is J.K. Simmons and so too is Sienna Miller. Taylor Kitsch’s character was probably the best part of the beginning of this movie. However, he was removed far too early and when his character died, so too did most of the intrigue and the action.
Stephan James was brilliant as the young and confused Michael. The pair had great chemistry as frightened, confused but deadly killers.

Taylor Kitsch and Stephan James in 21 Bridges (2019)

The Russo brothers of Marvel Cinematic Universe fame were billed as producers for this movie. They definitely had control of the soundtrack choices as several scenes are completely overshadowed by loud, intrusive and epic scores. They add to the atmosphere, if the atmosphere they were going for is absolutely sh1tting your pants at loud sounds.
I can only guess that the production team were going for suspense. What they achieved was a mixture of confusion and fear that Thanos was about to reduce the number of bridges to an even twenty.

In saying all of that, I did enjoy the movie. The first hour or so was really good and just what an action movie should be. However, there was never any sense of danger. Detective Davis was always gonna come out on top, and Miller’s portrayal of the narc, Frankie Burns, was always a bit sketchy so there was no surprise she was a bad egg. Simmons’ reveal as the real villain of the piece and his embittered monologue about his reasons for partaking in illegal activities was so shoehorned in that I needed a new pair of socks! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, shoe puns!

All in all, a watchable movie that disappoints. The first hour is great but the last twenty minutes seemed like an afterthought. Everything is wrapped up neatly to the detriment of the plot.

Mr. Right (2015) – Netflix

Sam Rockwell and Anna Kendrick in Mr. Right (2015)

There are only a few film stars, actors and actresses that I am in awe of every time they appear on a screen. Whether that be interviews, t.v. shows or movies, I am enthralled by their every move. Bradley Cooper, Emma Stone, Emily Blunt, to name but a few. However, none of them have captured my heart and my attention like Sam Rockwell.
I first saw Mr. Rockwell in Iron Man 2 (2010). I didn’t think much of the movie or anyone in it at the time, but Rockwell’s weirdness just jumped out at me. The same thing happened in Moon (2009). His turn as the Jack of Diamonds killer in Seven Psychopaths (2012), one of my favourite movies, just made me appreciate that he was and still is my favourite actor. Again, in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing (2017), he was aloof, weird, eccentric and downright hilarious. So, taking all this into account, when I saw Mr. Right appear on my Netflix recommendations, I knew I was going to be watching it right away. As a plus for me, Anna Kendrick was starring alongside Sam, and I have a crush on her. She doesn’t know about it so its cool. I know she reads the blog, though, so Anna…your move.

Mr. Right is about finding the Mr. Right who is right for you, and finding out you’ll fight to keep them at all costs. On a much more real level, it is a thriller/rom-com that has an abundance of violence and most importantly, Sam Rockwell playing a character that skirts the line between lovable, morally corrupt goofball and psychopath.
He plays Francis, a hitman turned vigilante, killing the people who hired him instead of his actual targets in a skewed attempt at redemption. He bumps into Martha (Kendrick) in a convenience store. Martha, fresh from a bad breakup, agrees to go on a date with him and their whirlwind romance begins immediately. The only problem is that Martha doesn’t know his name, his job or anything important about him. Hilarity ensues.

Anna Kendrick in Mr. Right (2015)

As with the rest of my reviews I am not going to give away many or any other details. These movies may be old but go watch them and enjoy.
Sam Rockwell does no wrong as the deranged yet heroic anti-hero, while Kendrick is her usual goofy and hilarious self as the unwilling yet totally willing sidekick/love interest.
Tim Roth supports as a former colleague of Francis’, switching between his cockney accent and a fairly decent attempt at an Alabaman one effortlessly.
RZA cameos as ‘Shotgun Steve’, a hired thug who Francis befriends with his absolute insane sense of right and wrong in the middle of a gun fight.

Overall, I would say this is a great movie. It is almost like a McDonagh film and reminds me of Seven Psycopaths an awful lot, without seeming like a ripoff. Watch it on Netflix whenever you get a chance.

Rating: 4/5.

Hangover Watchable: Most Def.

Dear Diary 2: Electric Boogaloo

Hello again guys! It seems like, for the fifth time this year, I’m making a grand return to writing. Like the prodigal son I am slinking back to my parents house with no money, no camel of my own and a pocket void of gold coins. In this simile WordPress is my parents house and the pocket is empty of both gold and euros.
A fair bit has happened in the two months since I wrote the award winning* entry, ‘Dear Diary’. The dizzying heights of writing a blog post with a few likes leaves the recipient with only one way to go: straight down. Your next post might only garner a few likes or none at all. You question your skills and your relationships. You overthink every single thing in your life. That’s why I chose to leave the game. I chose to get out. I hung up my pen and my notebooks. They immediately fell to the floor so I stacked them neatly and put them in a drawer in my room. But now I’m back. Do I have any material planned? No. Do I have a plan for this particular post? No. Will I edit it carefully so that you, the reader, gets the most from my post? Probably not. Let’s enjoy the ride 😎


I got a new job! You’re looking at a brand new, highly trained, fully qualified and sought after….data entry clerk. Yup I said! Give me that feckin’ number there until I put it in that feckin’ spreadsheet there for ya! Do you need a copy of that because you better feckin’ believe that I am on my way to the printer! Yeah I can do a pivot table, are you crazy! ‘Course I can, let me just google that there kid 👍

I got a new car! That’s right, guys and gals. Ya boy Cian, this always drinkin’, sometimes writin’, Luke Kelly lookin’ ass muhfucker got himself a set of wheels. Now I can arrive and depart in style. I can let people out at the lights, giving them a little flick of the hand to let them know I’m a sound fella. Most importantly, though, I can now operate my own heavy machinery while delving deep into my own subconscious about the uncertainty of my future. Happy driving ahead 😎


The writing class is no more. Well, it is. They still meet up every Monday and probably have really interesting discussions about literary themes and writing styles and sip coffee and laugh about me behind my back. ‘One-Class Cian’ they probably call me. Bastards.
I had to give my place up in the class because I became a working man. I don’t have time for silly things like writing. In truth, I did become distracted from pretty much everything with the new job, and that isn’t a bad thing. However, I did enjoy that first writing class and although we haven’t seen each other in two months, I know they still think of me fondly.

The gym has also taken a hit in the last few months. I planned on going in the evenings after work, but wouldn’t you know it, everyone else in Cork had the same idea. One evening, after leaving the treadmill, looking at the almost full to capacity weights room and trudging back to the same treadmill, I lost some of the fire that was in me a few months ago. However, things are not too bad the last few weeks as I have been going at least once a week and doing some other exercises at home. The kettlebell is a mighty yoke altogether, and named after my favourite kitchen appliance!

So all is relatively good in the hood and I’m almost always happy. This new routine is doing wonders for my sleeping pattern and I finally have weekends off to spend with the lovely Limerick lady I am fortunate to call my girlfriend. That’s right, I’m gone soft and lovey and romantic and I love every second of it and her 🤷‍♂️
I rarely post on Facebook and I’ve scaled back my Instagram stories in a big way but I still tell people even more stuff here. So keep an eye out for personal poems and another post in a few weeks announcing my sixth return to the literary world.

Trailer Watch

Happy Wednesday, folks! Hope ye had a great weekend. I went to the zoo myself and had a look at some of the exotic, foreign animals. Then, I got the train back to the city and start my shift at Blackpool’s local zoo: The Reel Picture. Kids, shitheads and uninterested parents ran riot and gave me anxiety. Anyways, here’s my trailers to watch this week.

Zombieland 2: Doubletap

Just after the cult comedy Zombieland was released in 2009, some asshole on Youtube made a fake trailer for the second movie, fooling 15 year old me into believing a sequel was greenlit so early in the film’s life. Looking at it recently, I was a stupid 15 year old.
This film introduces a whole new cast of hilarious characters to support Colombus, Wichita, Little Rock and Tallahassee. I have a feeling that it will be a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth. In this metaphor, the actors are the cooks and the film is the broth. Too many actors spoiling a sequel as the original movie centered so well around four funny yet complicated characters. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

The Witcher (Netflix)

I have tried to play the Witcher 3 on PS4 about three times and the game is just so vast and expansive that I can’t commit to it. I see my future when I load up the game again and it is one in which I am sat in front of the T.V., food down my front and dribble down my chin. I can’t do it to myself. I need to be more productive. So instead, I go into the other room and do the exact same thing watching Love Island. Now I can keep up with my friends.
This trailer looks like it will appease people who have never played the game while fans probably have something to say about Henry Cavill’s clean shaven-ness. Have a look.

His Dark Materials (HBO)

I don’t know if any of you remember The Golden Compass (2007)? The movie was meant to be the first in a series based on the award winning books by Phillip Pullman. However, the critics hated it and that was the end of that. This series, staring James McEvoy (Atonement, X-Men) and Ruth Wilson (Luther), looks to remedy that and do the books justice. It looks darker, grittier, and with the addition of Lin Manuel Miranda (Mary Poppins, Hamilton), it looks set to enjoy numerous musical numbers and dance routines. Joking in the last part, but I am really looking forward to seeing this when it airs in the Fall.

Hello Again.


Good Wednesday, folks! The sun isn’t exactly shining here in Rathpeacon but the rain has stayed away so far. There’s a couple of fox cubs running around our garden every once in a while. Coincidentally, I haven’t seen any rabbits in a while. I’m working two jobs, losing all of my matches with the local G.A.A. team and trying to lose most of the forty kgs I’ve put on in the last seven years. I’ve been busy and so the writing has been on the backburner. Here’s my latest attempt to get back to writing regularly and beautifully.

You can expect movie reviews, music reviews, sports reviews and muck talking. Three or four posts a week with the odd poem and story mixed in. You’ve heard it all before and you’re hearing it again. This won’t be the last time you see a post from me saying I’m back and more consistent. Hopefully, though, it’ll be the last one for a while!

xoxo Gossip Cian

San Francisco

Just before I made the move back home I took a short trip to San Francisco. A friend of mine had lived there for a year or so and had been telling me how great it was, so I was keen to see the place. Other friends of mine had made the big move across the states to the West coast and I wanted to see them too before i left. Brian and Joanne were getting on great there and Brian, or Broan as I affectionately call him was a massive help to me when I first moved to Woodlawn. I decided to impose upon them for a weekend without their consent, so everyone was happy. They had just returned from a Christmas break to Ireland and I was due to arrive the following Friday, a mere five days later. That was plenty of recovery time for them and I knew they’d appreciate putting me up and showing me the sites.


I had my last day in work on Thursday of that week. I made the trek back to Woodlawn from Manhattan, relieved to be free of any more responsibilities in the Vanguard. I caught a few hours of shuteye, packed my bag badly once again and wearily made my way to Newark that next morning.
I arrived into San Francisco international airport that Friday evening, still stunned by the beautiful views from my window seat as we flew over Nebraska. I ordered an Uber and made my way to Locksley Ave. Hugo was my driver and after a few minutes confusion as to where he was picking me up we made our way to Brian and Joanne. Hugo talked the ear off me the full forty minute drive, telling me his life story and all about how he was also a concierge in a previous life. He talked, I laughed, he talked, I stayed silent, he talked, I gave grunts and one word replies, he still talked. He got five stars.


That first night was great. I caught up with two old friends and we went for food in a Caribbean/Brazilian/ethnic resturant. I remember no names of the places I was in because I am lazy and meant to write this last month. We barhopped for a while, drinking Sangria and Vodka Cokes by the jugful. A bar called Milk had so many cutouts of Elvis Presley and impersonators of the King. I put two and two together, got 5 and put it down to San Fran being a cooky place. Not once did it cross my mind that it might be an Elvis themed night. Great lad all the same.


Along with the weekend came all the sightseeing. We did the lion’s share on the Saturday. We walked down to Haight street, where we were the night before and got a bite to eat, myself and Joanne getting Mimosas and cocktails like all girls do on their hols.
Brian drove us first to the Twin Peaks (LOL). The views were unreal, spreading out over the whole city. In the distance, a tiny speck of land turned out to be Japan. I couldn’t believe it, we were that close to the other side of the world. I had my doubts but Brian explained to me that Earth is flat despite the fact that the globe is round. I was happy with that and happy that Brian would never lie to me. Would you Brian?

Liar then drove us out to one of the viewing points for the Golden Gate bridge. It was awesome up close and the pictures don’t do it justice. I got my picture in with the Holly Bough too, so I was even happier. We could’ve walked it but I only brought a half zip and my nipples were cutting glass. Very dangerous on a windy day.


That evening we drove out to Sausolito. It is a stunning, picturesque little town that you can reach by car or via ferry from fisherman’s wharf. Right on the edge of the water, droves of tourists took photos perilously close to the deep blue. The city was visible off in the distance, as was Alcatraz, the famous prison that hosted Al Capone and believe it or not, Clint Eastwood.
Japan too loomed large in the background and in my mind.

We had a night on the tiles that night, painting San Francisco red. “But we want blue!”, the San Franciscans cried. We cared not. Brian, Joanne, Sarah and I laughed and roared into the night, painting every square inch of wall red, not forgetting our primer.
San Fran is a great night out in all seriousness but for any New Yorkers that are heading there, last call is 2AM and not 4AM. Be wide.


Sunday was supposed to be full of sights and tourism too, but after seeing the Golden Gate, the Twin Peaks (LOL), along with Lombard street and the house where Mrs. Doubtfire was filmed, as well as a hangover that would kill a Belgian Blue, we decided to just keep drinking.
Pints of Blue Moon, several shots of whiskey and board games came out in favour of sightseeing and I think we were all a happy bunch.

I did a bit of solo sightseeing on the Monday. After rising from the cot in the early afternoon I made my way to Haight street where I grabbed a bite to eat. I bought a few t-shirts and postcards because that’s what people do on holidays. I hopped in an Uber and travelled down to Pier 39 and Fisherman’s Wharf.
I decided to stay put and have a look around. I was transfixed by the Mechanical Museum where arcade games and old attractions were on display and available to use. There was a whole village that was powered by 75 cents. I must add that it is a miniature village made of wooden figurines, but after you put in the money and walk around the glass display it is just amazing. Countless characters have their own individual movements, some even interacting with others.
There was a Simpsons arcade game, basketball games and shooting games, but I was taken in by the slow moving, intricate depictions of different scenes like the one I just described. Despite all that San Francisco has to offer I would tell everyone to go to that museum, bring a roll of quarters and just have a blast.


After a last supper with Bi-Bri and Jo-Jo, I flew back to Newark late that night. I didn’t really have time then to think about my experience in San Fran as I had five days to pack and prepare for moving home. After taking two months to get off my arse and write some long-winded spiel about the craic we had there, I know I’ll definitely be back there, I’ll definitely be back for longer and Brian and Joanne are fantastic hosts. I’m willing to look past the fact that they lied to me about the geographical location of Japan in relation to San Fran. Dishonor on your families.




The Vanguard

“Good Morning, Vanguard Chelsea, Cian speaking.”

It is 1:30 AM on another typical night shift in the Vanguard; quiet for the most part with the odd noise complaint, or someone asking to be let back into the laundry room because they just had to finish their delicates at midnight. The odd homeless person stumbles by the doors and I can feel them staring at me out of the corner of my eye. They give little trouble and can be moved on with a dollar or a threat of a phonecall to the police. Drunk residents may come back later and chat about their night for a while, keeping me awake at least. The New York Times delivery guy will stop by at around 3 in the morning to drop off papers for the residents. The Wall Street Journal lady will stop by around 5 to do the same. After my break at around 4, I’ll step outside, have a cigarette and get a coffee, three hard boiled eggs and a butter roll. It has been the same routine for about a year and a half now and it’s not too bad. My sleep schedule is all over the place but sure look, it’s quiet work.
The building comes alive again at around 6 AM. Certain residents leave much earlier then others but it is usually this time of the morning that people leave to go to the gym, others leave for work, personal trainers arrive for other residents and me and the porter on duty start to realise that we’ll soon be free of work for another day.
This happens every Monday and Tuesday night and today is no different, with one slight exception. This is my last night shift as a concierge at the Vanguard Chelsea.

Your last day at any job can be bittersweet. You are happy to be leaving and hopefully moving on to bigger and better things but a part of you is sad that you won’t see some of the people every day. I am personally delighted to be finishing and getting on with things but I will miss a lot of people that I’ve worked with, along with many residents of the building.

I’m going to miss the guys at the front desk, my brothers in arms. It’s obviously not that serious, but we have each others’ backs. Recently, there was a big shift in management and we were without a super for the last four months. At the front desk, we didn’t care. We knew we had it down and if there were any problems then we would sort it out ourselves.
I’m going to miss Freddy the porter. We’ve worked many a night shift together and shared laughs about the other handymen or porters and their quirks. Plus, he is big into his football, so we had a lovely time watching me slide into a mental breakdown over Mourinho the last six or seven months.

I’m going to miss the guy in the coffee cart who sells me my eggs and coffee on the night shift. I don’t know his name and he doesn’t know mine. We call each other ‘brother’, or ‘boss’, and we are the best of friends. He doesn’t know a thing about my life and I don’t know a thing about his. That is why he was the best man at my wedding.

As soon as I started the job the resident manager informed me that it was fine to be friendly with the residents but you could in no way be actual friends with them. He claimed that it would work against you as some residents may take advantage of you for your kindness and friendship. I quickly saw what he was talking about with some people so I steered clear of them. But, I would say that I was on very good terms with a lot of the residents. I would go as far to say I made a few friends who lived in the building. If not friends, then acquaintances for the future whenever I may return.

Billy and Debbie on the 23rd floor are a fantastic couple. Every evening, Billy and I would talk about what was new on Netflix, Hulu and the like. When we found out that we watched the same sort of stuff, we had to figure out what Debbie could watch with him as she wasn’t fond of gory and dark television! They’re getting married in the near future and I’m delighted for them.
Randy, TIffany and baby Zoe moved out recently but they were a delight. Tiffany and Zoe were constantly happy and Randy was like one of the lads. We’d constantly be slagging each other off, although he had an advantage as I couldn’t keep shouting after him when delivery guys were waiting for me to do my job.
Christine on the 16th floor is hilarious and provided me with company and laughs on dreary Sunday afternoons as I wished I was anywhere else. We’d talk crap about whatever carer she had with her at the time and give out about how slow tourists walk around the city. I know she reads this blog from time to time so Christine, if you see this….BUY A PRINTER AND STOP USING OUR PAPER!!! Jokes, jokes.

There are many other residents who I’ve bonded with over Game of Thrones, theatre, football and most importantly, drinking. I know I won’t miss the crazier, more pedantic residents but I’ll look back on my time here fondly. I made some money, some memories and learned a lot about myself. I came to New York to figure out what I wanted to do with my life and this building and the night shifts gave me the time to do that. If I wanted, I could stay here and become a resident manager and live in New York for the rest of my life, and maybe that’ll happen because who knows what will happen, but I doubt it. I’ve done the job and am happy that I’m finishing, but I will forever hold the Vanguard dearly in my heart.


It’s that time of the year again, the hazy and confusing end/start to the year where people try to transition from eating and drinking whatever they want to imposing strict and unforgiving rules on their lives. People want to give up their aul sins but also want to enjoy themselves. This often leads to several New Year Resolutions that more often than not are given up by the second week of January. Some remain pipe dreams forever, being given up on before the year commences. Fitness goals are attempted almost too eagerly at the beginning, leaving one burnt out and fed up with the whole process. Some people try and quit their vices cold turkey, such as smoking, drinking or eating crap. The beginning of the year can be a stressful time with lost loved ones, kids going back to school and work only around the corner, so maybe cutting down on the fags in the morning would be a better approach. I can’t really talk because I’m in the process of stopping smoking cold-turkey, so I’ll let ye know how it goes!

I read an article online recently about how new year’s resolutions are all bullshit and we shouldn’t subscribe to this ideal of making ourselves into the ideal version of ourselves overnight. I can understand the argument and agree to a certain extent but still, that’s very generalised. Most people make their resolutions because it helps them throughout the year. Even if they don’t succeed in all or any of their attempts at least they can look back and say they started with great intentions.
I myself have never really made any resolutions. I wait until Lent like a good Catholic boy and then give up on everything I enjoy! However, this year, I’m going to make a list of things I should really give up on, mostly including drinking and smoking, and mostly because there’s some funny stories associated with these two vices that are ripe for posting. So rest your hungover head, read my resolutions for the year of Our Lord 2019 and don’t worry if you don’t keep yours, because there is always next time.

New Years Resolutions 2019: A Fool’s Errand

  • Cut down on the binge drinking. By all means, go out and throw back eight pints and a few Tully Dews, maybe a few shots of Sambucca followed by a Vodka Red Bull to level it out every once in a while but not twice a week. O.K., three times a week.
  • Slow down on the smoking. I don’t smoke much really but sure look, no harm to stop smoking fags. Ah, but they’re so nice with a coffee, or after a meal, or after a few pints….we’ll see how it goes.
  • Get back in shape. Not in terrible shape but I could stand to shed a few pounds and get back to full fitness. See above resolution.
  • Start enjoying sport again, and not just enjoying a game because I can’t wait for the few too many pints afterwards.
  • Read more. I made a fairly good effort this/last year and read some fantastic books but I’m gonna try for a book a week next/this year.
  • Don’t punch holes in any more walls. It happened once, everyone had a good laugh because I was still drunk from the night before but if it keeps happening that’ll become my thing. Then people won’t invite me over, I’ll lose all my friends, become homeless and die with no walls around me! A harsh but a fair truth.
  • DO NOT LOSE ANY MORE PHONES!!!! If I lose a phone this year then I am never buying a phone again. I’m going off the grid and I will write my blogs on pieces of paper that I will then set alight and release them into the night sky!
  • Try a job that has a set Monday to Friday, eight hour schedule. Hang on, didn’t I have that one summer in an office and was bored beyond belief? Wasn’t I so excited to finish? Do I secretly enjoy working odd hours and having some week days to myself? I’ll have to revisit this one around Lent.
  • Write more. Up the effort for the blog, try and get some articles published in papers and get prepared for college. Just become more disciplined and have a schedule, not just the odd post every once in a while.
  • Text people back lol.

Despite the number of resolutions it has been an exceptional year. I would go as far as to say it has been the best year of my life so far, or one of them. The drink flowed, the craic was great and I traveled to some places in the States I’ll never forget. I’ve made some lifelong friends in New York and will more than likely be back in the next few years. Although I missed home, birthdays and holidays, I’ve kept a positive outlook on things and look forward to all that 2019 holds for me, my family and friends. Thanks to everyone for reading the blog and the kind words. Here’s to a fantastic year! Don’t @ me.