One for the road?
So Mad Uncle Alg is over for the weekend and Friday saw the fellas head off to the pub to… erm… wet the baby’s head, as it were. Hubby, who has learned by painful experience that a night in the pundertakers (especially with D-next-door and Galway C) can lead to symptoms including severe loss of memory, headaches and how-the-bloody-hell-did-I-get-home-itis, rang me at midnight and asked for a lift home. Happily, I was still awake (on Facebook – sad, aren’t I) so I nipped down to get him and Mr Lovely, who had work in the morning servicing Dublin’s good citizens (shame on you, he’s a fireman).
Mad Uncle Alg, on the other hand, had been persuaded by D-next-door (unequalled beer monster), and a couple of the others, to stay put and have ‘one for the road’.
‘Oh dear’, said I, does he realise that one for the road means at least another four?
‘Not sure’, said Hubby, ‘but he seemed on good form’.
And so it came to pass that Mad Uncle Ali staggered in at around 2am after partaking of a little too much of Ireland’s legendary hospitality (and rather a lot of vodka, too).
No matter, he was dead perky in the morning – even going for a run (‘everyone waves at you round here – I spent half my run bloody waving’). Saturday evening we decided to stay in. We watched a film (The Heartbreak Kid, completely unsuitable and #2 spent most of it with people’s hands over his eyes) and Uncle Alg was glued to his Facebook page and his mobile, which seems to beep and buzz more or less continuously with messages from women.
‘Corrrr’, he said to his small nephew at one stage, ‘do you want to see a picture that this hottie has just sent me?’
‘Erm, maybe not’, says I, stepping in before #2 comes face to face with some bird in her drawers.
Sunday, then, saw them all go out for a run (#1 was not impressed and had to keep stopping to have a bit of a dry heave – he’s a Playstation man, not an outdoorser and was practically in tears by the time they got back), then it was back to the pub to watch the footie. I got the dinner on, then went to pick them up after the match. Galway C , who I can’t understand – it must wind him right up that I say ‘pardon’ to absolutely everything he says – and his lovely wife, C, were there by then, plus Mrs Lovely and T the mechanic with his wife G (‘we had oysters last night. They didn’t work’).
‘One for the road, Alg?’ says D
‘Why not’, says Alg. They’re all laughing, the buggers, and I head back off home to turn off the dinner. They could well be some time…
de-program #2 after he leaves. Ahhhhh family!
ROFLLLL!!!
In Dundalk, when passing another (onknown) motorist, it’s tratitional to give a whassup-homeboy-my-hand-is-atrophied salute over the steering wheel. This salute is considered obnoxious in Laois, where the solemn-nod-with-first-finger-slightly-raised greeting is favoured. 8P
Everyone will think Ali’s cracked when he goes back to Blighty and spends his run bounding about shooting cheery waves and ‘howayas’ at complete strangers! Would pay cold hard cash to see it though! LOL!
Susan: I know. It cracked me up
Baino: I’m just amazed at the sheer amount of texting he does! The pundertakers actually provides a minibus that gives everyone a lift home, but it might meander round 8 or 10 places, and they’re very spread out round here!!
Mary: She was very pretty, honest (what? I had to sneak a little looksy!!) x
Towny: And it takes HOURS doesn’t it! I think I should suggest one for the road at about 9pm then I’d be fine!
Jen: Yup, we favour the one-fingered point here. He’ll probably get the shite kicked out of him when he gets home!
Rock on………………….always,love you !
x
Alg: Ah, ’twas great fun. Come again soon! Big hugs, mwah xxxxx
Sounds like an exhausting weekend, EM, and I don’t mean for the runners!
Eh, looks like Bert had “one for the road too”!!!
Towny: Gasp! Sainsbury’s?! Let me know if you discover where it is.
Jenn: He does, doesn’t he. He’s deffo a metrosexual – nicked half my products too