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Posted 12/8/2018


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You’re only massive


My mum has taken to using the word ‘massive’ to indicate that something is very good. On the subject of her new windows: ‘The plumber drove by the house and said the windows are massive.’ Me: ‘The weather is so good today!’ Her: ‘Yes. It’s massive.’ I let it go a couple of times but I had to ask her where this has come from. She said she didn’t realise she had been using it and had no clue where she’d picked it up and chuckled to herself. Then we went for breakfast together and as I was shovelling a rasher and a bit of toast into my mouth she raised her phone to take a photo of me but then decided against it. ‘You look tired.’ My mum is massive.


I’ll take a pass…port


I discovered on Sunday that you can renew your passport online and, wait for it, you don’t need to bring your photos to the Gardaí anymore to sign the back of them! You just upload a photo, pay the fee and you’re renewed baby. I have told 12 people about this fascinating development in the evolution of passport renewal since then and no one has matched my enthusiasm.


The only tricky part now about getting a new passport is getting a new passport pic. You have to take a photo that shows your face completely neutral. No tiny smile, no tilting of the head towards the light, slight pursing of the lips or distracting from your face with a full veil. You have to present your visage, unposed, not grinning and bare it.


I showed tremendous discipline and self-restraint by only using the three attempts offered by the photo booth to select a ‘good one’. Looking at my face in the screen in front of me I saw that one of my eyes is rounder than the other, which is more oval in shape. They also look like they’re positioned at two slightly different latitudes on the globe that is my head. It looks like my features were arranged on the diagonal. My friend was standing by outside, so I called her in to see what she thought. She confirmed that indeed my face does look slightly wonky but all faces are and told me she went to three different booths for her own passport photo before accepting her cute little face as it was. So I paid my eight euro and kept the photos safe between the pages of a Tesco Clubcard application form. 

Later, I Whatsapped the pictures to my mum who confirmed ‘That looks like you. That’s your face!’ 


When I got home, I got onto the DFA website and in about ten minutes, I had ordered a new passport for EO’MD which will be my loyal travel companion for the next ten years. Where the eff will I be then? I look at my little head from ten years ago and she hadn’t a fookin’ clue what lay ahead. Her grandmother was still alive. She didn’t imagine she would get braces again. Hadn’t cried on the 15, 15a, 15b, 14, 16 or the 140 to and from Ikea. She had never been to Ikea. She had yet to weep uncontrollably from London Heathrow to Dublin, from Sydney to Dublin, Perth to Dublin (she peaked during Trolls) and on most streets around Dublin 6, 2, 1 and 8. She also laughed more than is good for a human and collected great friends. 


In ten years time, I can’t imagine where I’ll be. Presenting The One show on the BBC with Ant and/or Dec? Releasing my tenth novel in braille? Promoting my own line of laser pens for cats? I mean, we just don’t know. It is all to play for my invisible friends. 


Ask yer (cine)Ma


I got myself some poppers and coke (Manhattan popcorn and Coke Zero) to watch Dublin Old School two Saturdays ago*. Hahaha a great linguistic switchero from your pal Esther there! I am not nor ever have been a mad ourravih drug fiend so watching this film didn’t make me want to go out and get off my chops. I thought all the performances were good with special mention to my mate BQ who played the mega English DJ. He’s also in the new Villagers video FYI which is wonderful. He is the bees pyjamas. 


If I had made Dublin Old School, I would have included a scene where the characters go to the chemist and buy a multi-pack of blackcurrant Dioralyte and Nurofen to take before and after their nights out. I watch party films like this one and think ‘they all must be so dehydrated’ and ‘do they ever eat breakfast?’ I’d go and see it if I were you before it disappears foreverrrrrrrrrrrrr (please imagine saying the word ‘forever’ like you’re falling down a well. Thank you).


*I thought I’d post this two weeks ago but I didn’t so here it is late. The film is still showing in some cinema’s so I didn’t miss the boat completely.


Shut the book up


At a writing class I took the other day (hello! I chose to live my life as character from a Meg Ryan film circa 1996, please accept it) we did an exercise where we wrote a list of ten very small actions we do throughout the day e.g putting on slippers, pouring milk etc. Then we had one minute to write a four stanza poem on any one of the mundane activities. When the woman beside me volunteered to read her poem aloud and launched in with the title ‘Cutting the cheese’ I wondered if she knew she had written an ode to farting? Anyhoo, aside from Lorna’s* masterpiece, one of the best things about the writing class was the reading out loud bit. It brought me back to primary school and secondary school and at any small gathering to be honest. I always shoved my paw skyward when the teacher asked ‘does anyone want to start?’ In I would barrel, secretly hoping I wouldn’t be stopped and could glory hunt to the end of the page. Reading out loud is fun! (Please get this tattooed on your body). 


On the subject of reading, I posted a list of books recommendations on my Instagram recently but I have two more to add to the list. I read David Sedaris’s latest book Calypso which je enjoyed. A lot of the stories are set in Raleigh, North Carolina and as I once went to a wedding near there, it made reading them even more enjoyable. I’ve never read any of his stuff before despite having bought Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls; it’s in a box somewhere while I move. When I am in my new gaff, I will find it and stick it on the bedside pile. I will report back to you then. 


The other book to add to the list is Springs of Affection: Stories of Dublin by Maeve Brennan. 


I hadn’t heard of this writer before until a few weeks ago when two authors mentioned her on a podcast. Then I saw Aoife Barry a.k.a @sweetoblivion on Instagram say she was hosting a talk on her work in the National Gallery. I thought ‘I hear you Universe. Count me in!’. However, then the Universe also made the weather stupidly good and it was too baking hot to be stuck indoors so I didn’y go Jim. Next time Batman.


Le fin. 



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