A cleaner car, donuts and wishing that England won

JUNE 30

WE decided to clean the Skoda. It was like any act of work performed in Ireland: One person stands around, trying to look busy and pointing out what ought to be done (myself), while another person actually gets on with doing the chore (herself).

In the midst of old coffee cups, sweet wrappers (rarer now that I’ve begun to monitor my diet and I always blame the road trip junk that’s left behind on either Alan or Gavin), I found an exceptional compilation album, Lipstick Traces, by the Manic Street Preachers. Worth listening to on our next excursion to west Sligo or, indeed, for any drive.

Down the street we spotted a collection of An Garda Síochána (what is the collective term for a group of Gardaí?). Herself asked me to briefly become a nosy neighbour and find out what was going on. I told her I was too busy cleaning the car.

THURSDAY: JULY 1

UNITED finally sign Jadon Sancho. The Athletic website have an insightful feature on what the winger, who starred at Borussia Dortmund, should bring to United’s attack.

Tired of being labelled a fashion pervert (due to my socks-sandals combo), I ditched the socks. It was more awkward than I thought, taking off the socks in public, leaving them on the street and walking away. But, along with feeling a little more apostolic, the air is now circulating around my naked toes.

FRIDAY: JULY 2

DURING a beach jaunt with the gang (herself and the dupers) I take things to a new level and trod barefoot in the soft sand.

The sensation is overwhelming, soothing and slightly ticklish. It immediately feels like I’m walking through heaps of icing sugar or flour. I wonder if the flour is pastry flour or cake flour. At Dunnes Stores I pick up a bottle of Hummingbird gin and it proves an enjoyable tipple when watching two televised games, Spain’s penalty shoot-out defeat of Switzerland and Italy’s win over Belgium. Napoli’s Lorenzo Insigne is my new favourite Italian player, having previously had high regard for Nicola Berti of Inter Milan.

SATURDAY: JULY 3

WHEN at Markievicz Park for the Christy Ring Cup game between the senior hurlers of Sligo and Offaly, the afternoon was mainly spent taking notes on Offaly’s scores. All 41 of them.

Thankfully for Sligo, who battled gamely despite the gulf, Offaly didn’t reach the 50-point mark. And, with 15 wides, the visitors could have. I recall, as a kid, having a Wavin hurley. A plastic hurley that I never used.

On the subject of indoor dining’s return and drinking allowed indoors in pubs, I know the government could have handled things differently, but Covid-19 isn’t exactly a tameable beast. Variants aside, the virus contin- ues to be an issue because people are breaking the rules.

JULY 4

IN last night’s dream, I was part of a SWAT team led by leading Sligo entertainer Scruffy Duffy. Instead of a gun, I had an inhaler.

Dreams aren’t supposed to make sense, although in the waking world I was an asthmatic years ago. During my worst attacks I had to take steroids. As a YouTube regular, I’m up to date with adverts and trailers for the latest blockbusters (Fast & Furious 23, Godzilla vs. The Catholic Church). Hewlett Packard have a brilliant advert to highlight cybersecurity (and to sell its HP Wolf Security packages). Award-winning actor Christian Slater is the campaign’s star.

I’ve watched the advert several times and would have watched it again only I’ve to click the link in the email I was sent about mobile boat hoists.

JULY 5

FROM yesterday’s reference to cybersecurity – it’s OK, that mobile boat hoists website didn’t infect my PC – to viral security.

Today I received my second vaccine dose. Coincidentally, I was at the same vaccination bay at IT Sligo (number 11) where I received my first dose on Monday, June 7.

Then it was a lady called Eithne, this time is was Mari Johnson (who is a leading runner and a midwife at Sligo University Hospital). My arm was sore again. The injection gave me hope, too, that I’ll be fully protected from the dreaded Covid-19. Herself also got jabbed today, for the second time.

JULY 6

I SPENT much of the day both dizzy and blissful. This could be just the state of being in love with herself combined with the second dose of Pfizer/BioNTech whizzing through my system.

I had also visions of slowly supping pints of creamy Guinness in the front part of Shoot The Crows, listening to Clannad in the background, while picking random crisps from a bag of Tayto lying sprawled and open on the countertop. Later on, both myself and herself wanted Italy to win against Spain. They did, after penalties.

JULY 7

TODAY was tiring and more so because I was extra tired. Not a good time, therefore, to read an article on The Guardian about caffeine addition. Nervous about England’s semi-final, I walked around town and heard Roy Orbison singing on The Mall. Orbison died in 1988 so it must have been a recording.

While everyone wanted Denmark to win on account of what happened to Christian Eriksen (who suffered a cardiac arrest during his team’s game against Finland), it was obvious that Denmark lacked a player of his class in order to overcome England.

Only for Kasper Schmeichel, England would have been out the gate long before extra-time was needed.

JULY 8

A KIND employee from one of the O’Hehir’s Bakery outlets in Sligo town dropped in half a dozen donuts to the office. I thought all six were for me but Dan, a colleague who has a sweet tooth, thought differently.

MOTORSPORT: Action from the 2015 Sligo Stages Rally, an event organised and hosted by the Connacht Motor Club.

We traded fighting words briefly on a flat roof adjacent to our building, with an actual duel averted because medieval weapons couldn’t be found in time. So the donuts were shared. Would it be possible for a boy racer (nicknamed ‘Doughnut’) to perform donuts in a modified vehicle whilst eating a donut?

Meanwhile, in Iceland (the country not the supermarket chain), Rovers looked like they might get a result but unfortunately lost 1-0.

JULY 9

I’VE long given up trying to decipher my dreams. I will just bare all here and let you, dear reader, decide.

Last night I dreamt that there were two choirs singing for charity along Sligo town’s Grattan Street (outside The Record Room). I put €60 (a folded up €50 note and a tenner) into one of the collection buckets. At John Kent Sport, John Kent was the amiable MC for a karaoke competition.

In the waking world, I watched Mortal Kombat (the reboot) via Google Play Movies. An excellent watch, the plot concerns Outworld’s defeat of Earthrealm in nine tournaments, known as Mortal Kombat, and the dreaded implications for Earthrealm if Outworld achieve a 10th successive victory. Dublin, aka Outworld, have won the last six GAA Football AllIreland Senior Championships. We’ve been warned.

JULY 10

KNOWING what tomorrow is – football will hopefully be coming home or begrudgingly going to Rome – I start prepping my quasi-English accent. My theory is that if I’m going to cheer for Blighty I should sound slightly Blighty. But herself informs me that I can only mime said accent for five minutes during the half-time break of the Euro 2020 final. Otherwise I can head to England right now, with my accent and my bags packed. Heineken are bringing out a stout to rival Guinness. Called Island’s Edge, the product’s name does not imply that U2 guitarist the Edge actually now owns Ireland. Or one of Ireland’s 80 islands. Such as Coney Island or Inishmurray off north Sligo’s coast.

SUNDAY: JULY 11

BEFORE my trip to Ferbane along with Alan Finn – to watch the Sligo Ladies Footballers against Wexford – myself and herself had a furious debate regarding Athlone’s Luke Carty playing for the USA in the rugby international against Ireland (who won by a ridiculous margin). Why can’t Ireland score 71 points against France, England or New Zealand? At least Enniskillen’s Robert Baloucoune could be the next Simon Geoghegan.

One heavy shower and one waterlogged pitch later, Ferbane became Shannonbridge. In the Euro 2020 final at Wembley, England got bogged down after going a goal up, eventually losing on penalties to Italy. I’m absolutely gutted.

JULY 12

I TRY to go about my daily business pretending that last night didn’t happen. This means no reading about you know what on the Irish Times, Guardian or Athletic websites. Having thought about last night’s outcome, I don’t blame England’s penalty-takers, I squarely blame manager Gareth Southgate for being overly conservative.

He brought on Jadon Sancho and Marcus Rashford for the shoot-out when both attackers should have been introduced much, much earlier to try to win the game in normal time.

Both would have been better attacking options than Bukayo Saka, just like Jack Grealish should have started ahead of Mason Mount.

An afternoon spin to Strandhill – with herself and Eddie as company – made me think that Strandhill, with its sun, surf, refreshments and scenery, is just ideal. There were no mentions of England’s pain, either.

JULY 13

I’VE taken to killing the office flies – using a GAA Celtic Challenge Finals match programme from 2018 – as a kind of therapy.

Herself was cheering for Italy last Sunday and, after multiple cans of Phantom, a tasty craft beer from the good people at The White Hag, I agreed that we should have an Italian food week at our humble abode.

In the cold light of day I expected this to mean pizza, pasta or caprese salad. But herself plans a full-on experience, starting with lasagne for brunch.

Had England won, it would have been a full English breakfast followed by bangers and mash and then steak and kidney pie.