Sodomy and The Pub Sit

So, you're not going to believe this but I only found out the actual meaning of the word 'sodomy' in the pub on Friday. Yes, that's a whole 34 years I've been walking round with my head in the fluffy clouds never questioning that sodomy might mean something more than the vague meaning I'd attached to it in the dictionary in my own head. The entry went something like this: Sodomy: A rude act perhaps taking place in a desert location in biblical times. My colleagues howled with laughter 'the chocolate starfish?' 'the chocolate tunnel of love?' 'how could you not know?'

Well I do now. New things for the New Year. Anyway, the pub crawl turned into a pub sit 'but we have a great seat!!' and we just stayed for 6 hours in a cosy corner of Pub no. 1, 'The Oval', happy in our warm candlelit Friday, buying pints after pints after pints until closing time.

Will someone else please tell me that they didn't know the exact definition either. God, all those people googling 'sodomy' are going to be so disappointed.

Sometimes Everything Is Just Wonderful

It's been a week of Good Stuff, from a Polish Vodka party (where I'm the only Irish person) to a Poker Game (where I slaughter my horrified tutors and pocket the winnings), from Elk Paté to Crispy Chicken Skin, from Prosecco to a Pint of Murphys, from a Live Gig to a Dinner Invite, from the First Drama Class (playschool for grown-ups) to being Fixer Girl at work (rushing to the rescue all the time), from last night's Warm Kiss outside the 'Sin é' under a cold starry sky to walking up Patrick's Hill, turning round to look down on the city and suddenly thinking 'I love Cork'.

This week, the soles of my feet were kissed and everyone laughed at my jokes. And I have had to spell my name a lot for a lot of new people: 'T-R-U-C ...'

Tonight it's Rest Time, so I can be fresh for tomorrow's leisurely Pub Crawl when we are only going to 'Good Pubs'. Which means the ones I like.

Stormy Sunday

Stormy Sunday, exploring in West Cork,
huge waves, showers on the horizon,
An empty windswept beach.
Perfect.

Tom Crean - Antarctic Explorer

A couple of nights ago I went to see 'Tom Crean - Antarctic Explorer', a one-man show written and performed by Aidan Dooley, at the Everyman Palace Theatre in Cork.

Tom Crean participated on several expeditions to Antarctica with both Scott and Shackleton in the early 20th century and lived out his later years running his own pub, 'The South Pole Inn', in Co. Kerry. Though he himself never kept a diary, his participation was distinguished in the diaries of expedition leaders and others. This is probably one of the reasons the play works so well. Because you have no first-hand written record for comparison, you really believe that this IS Tom Crean, down the pub, relating two of his great adventures with such immediacy that one minute you feel you are with him 140 miles from the South Pole and the next you are back in his pub, listening to reminiscences.

It was utterly compelling, riveting, hilarious, tragic and uplifting. I can't remember when I last went to anything so absorbing and enjoyable. When I wasn't laughing or grinning, I was on the verge of tears. The play has won several awards and is on a world-wide tour. If it comes anywhere near you, go and see it. The theatre was packed, the applause went on and on. And on. I wish I could see it again.

I feel a small adventure to The South Pole Inn coming on.

Truculent House

Cancel the party!

Due to a lot of wool-pulling over eyes I have withdrawn my offer. A friend (who it turns out knew the estate agent), furious on my behalf at the wool-pulling and general skulduggery and early demands for costly engineers' reports, took matters into his own hands and got his mother, yes his mother (who also knew the estate agent), to ring up and have it out with him in order to save Truculent Horse from a dastardly deed.

I feel mortified, grateful, disappointed and relieved. And about five years old.

And if his mother buys this house I'll be raging!

Falling In Love Again

So a builder wants it too. Apparently. According to The Sleaziest Estate Agent In Cork. Anyway, I'm falling in love again. It's perfect. A stone's throw from the city centre. You just have to whizz down the ridick steep Patrick's Hill on your skateboard and you're slap bang (on your face) outside any number of lovely pubs. There are a whole two bedrooms, nice wooden floors. Even heating!

AND an amazing character feature known as an 'outside toilet' down some treacherously slippy, mossy steps. Which is the only toilet. Which you would nearly pay extra for in fairness. VERY authentically Victorian.

So you're all invited to the housewarming. Oh except I haven't got it yet. But I bid on it whilst in the grip of a fever, probably like 4 million euro or something, so I reckon it's a done deal.

Truculent Flu Boo Hoo

The New Year fell flat on its face all of sudden after being struck down by a mysterious malady on Saturday, probably known as the flu, but initially misdiagnosed as 'the hangover' after a lengthy social gathering with a lot of new people the night before.

The worst thing is that it caused me to break all of my resolutions by giving me ample time to lie in bed feverishly obsessing, getting teary-eyed, not meeting any new people, going new places, trying new things, learning how to cook or doing anything at all! Luckily, Guardian Angel One brought me soup and Guardian Angel Two cooked dinner so I was well and truly looked after. Which almost brought on some crying in public. Almost.

Anyway I can't wait to get my saddle back on and get out there again.

I Am So Boring

God, all this talk of blow-jobs over at Annie and Company and what am I writing about?

Adult Education Classes

Yes, now that I actually have a love-life (if you could call sleeping with someone 4 nights in 10 days a 'love-life', which actually doesn't look like anything at all now that I write it down - worry worry obsess obsess) it seems I can stop worrying about whether I am ever going to sleep with someone again (answer = yes, tomorrow). And concentrate on my 'Adult Education and Continuing Development'. Woohoo!

It's just that time of year again isn't it? I managed to avoid them all last year by pretending to buy a house but well, it's time for this horse to try more new things. But first, I need advice. I can't do everything. The question is this:

Which ones should I do? Here is the list of contenders:

Céilí and Setdance (I am embarrassed that my cousins in London can dance a jig while I, hailing from the west of Ireland, can only jump up and down. Plus it's meant to be 'great craic')
Creative Writing Workshop (so I can write a prize winning novel - obviously)
The Art of Cartoon (so I can, em, draw better cartoons)
Acting (so I can become a great actor)
Navigation and Seamanship (so I can be more useful on my next voyage. If there is a next voyage)

Here are the things I won't be doing:

Dyslexia in Children
Cake Decoration
Lacemaking, Embroidery & Crochet
Baby Massage
Mercruiser Inboard Engines and Sterndrives

Here are the things I should be doing:

Introduction to the Stockmarket (I am broke)
Salsa Dancing (might just teach me how to move in a sexier fashion)
Yoga (good for me but a little dull)
Gaeilge (can't even speak my own language)
Make Up and Style (should be obvious)
Certificate in First Aid (useful skills for doctors' daughters)
Love Yourself - Heal Your Life (again, should be obvious)
Effective Presentation Skills ('does the thought of making a speech fill you with fear?' Yes)

Okay, so what's it to be?

The Boy From Another Planet Strikes Back

Well the big news here in Truculentland is that The Boy From Another Planet has made a dramatic return. After a lot of humming and hawing and general truculent behaviour from myself I finally realised he was trying to 'woo' me. Again. And again. And again. Just like knights had to do to their truculent horses in the old days.

This time there will be no heartbreak I swear. Or at least if there is you won't read about it here (yeah right!) unless it is his. There will be no drinking Brennivín out of eggcups in the dead of night, no tears, no mixed signals and no obtuse text messages. The odd pang of worry is allowed but absolutely NO obsessing. Perspective will be kept, the good times will be enjoyed and there will be no more melancholic musings on the fabric of the heart.

And, as Cathy said the other night, 'Enjoy it while you can because it'll be all boohoo later on!'

Resolutions Revisited

Well the New Year has got off to a flying start. The resolutions are going great, though I forgot to add an important one: No crying in public. Nobody likes a crybaby do they?

And what do you know I haven't cried at all yet in 2007! A brief review of my progress shows that I got semi-organised by tidying enough in my bedroom so that I could actually walk round the bed! Woohoo! Other organising has been put on hold since I read an article in The Irish Examiner saying that messy people are happier so there's no need to really bother do much more. I have not taken up smoking. I have cut down on my texting and only text things like 'Oh I would love to come to dinner' to boys. As for trying more new things, today I had a toasted banana and mango chutney sandwich, the other day I sucked someone's big toe and only yesterday I cooked rashers for the first time in my life (until they were black). No NEW dynamic single friends yet but that is a long-term plan and must look after the other ones better (all 2-3 of them). My new meal is the bacon sandwich. I have done some new art stuff. In matters of the heart I am trusting my gut instinct and I am NOT obsessing about men. It's quite simple, I just refuse to, point blank. Okay, I have not cleaned out the car, apart from removing one old banana skin, but I got it fixed which is even better as I can now drive it without dislocating my shoulder and straining my ankle every time I change gear. I haven't cleaned the house yet but I am trying to be a little tidier by arranging all my new grown-up cosmetics from Annie in an orderly manner. I will go to the cinema soon and my horizons feel broader already. Okay, have done nothing useful for society yet. And have not yet mastered Icelandic.

God, actually, I'm a little bored of all this resolution stuff. I mean, having read over mine, if I follow them all religiously I might just eradicate my entire personality. 'Boring Horse' they will call me then. Maybe I WILL take up smoking.

I, Truculent, Resolve ...

To be more organised
To quit texting, especially boys (except in grave emergencies)
To NOT take up smoking
To try more new things
To go more places
To do something useful for society
To replace all my coupled-up/child-owning friends with new dynamic singletons (ah just kidding, you can all still be my friends)
To learn how to cook more than two meals
To learn Icelandic (ha! at least to try again)
To do more 'art stuff'
To trust my gut instinct
To not obsess about boys, I mean men
To clean out my car
To clean the house
To be a little tidier
To go to the cinema at least once this year
To broaden my horizons

Okay that's loads, will start next week as am too disorganised to start this week.
Additional suggestions welcomed.

A Christmas Summary

Sleeping the longest sleeps of the year, feeling like a cross between a teenager and an aging spinster in my parents' house. 'We'd love it if you came to mass', 'have you met anyone nicer than yourself yet?'. Long walks by the sea, a doddery dog, half-familiar faces wrapped up warm, grey skies, a few pints, catching up 'any romance?', home early. Escape to Connemara in a doddery car with a doddery dog, black night, Cluedo in Renvyle, Killary harbour, long walk, lashing rain, foggy sheep, fish stew, roaring fire. Followed by parents, escape up Diamond Hill in the late afternoon, 'Don't go! Not the whole way to the top, not in this weather, it'll be dark soon!'. Stubborn teenager, whole way to the summit, sweeping mists, lashing rain, horizontal, howling wind, slippy bog, slippy flagstones, careful there, getting dark, no need for the embarrassment of mountain rescue 'foolhardy' they would say. Adverse weather conditions. Down again, roaring fire, doddery dog, blanket, tea. Another night, rain hurtling against the window. Back to town, all plans, people to see, dinners to eat, all chat, more people, warm houses, old old friends 'So you haven't found anyone yet?', pass the wine, yes please, another and another. Next day, whirling leaves, thunderstorm, small relatives, a chocolate bear, hugs, Cork beckons, New Year's Eve, town half-deserted, Mutton Lane and on we go 'is it midnight?'. New Year's Day, old friends, a lost dog, we catch some waves in West Cork, freezing cold, warm up fun fun fun, sunset, bright moon, beautiful day. All finished off with the warmest hug from The Boy From Another Planet.