A music blog from Ireland.
Getting more beer to take back to the party turned into a lot of hassle and even more cash, but it was sorted and besides Tommy falling down the stairs and completely hobbling himself, it was into the Taxi and off to Dessie’s. No problem. The taxi driver said he’d never drive by anyone carrying instruments and not pick them up. Up to Dessie’s, which was now in the middle of nowhere, and of course Dessie had fallen asleep in his house. We couldn’t wake him to let us in no matter what we did. We could see him through the back door, we could hear him snore, heard his phone ringing, but no movement. Jasper handed me a shovel and showed me how to pry the wood off one of the windows in the back of the house. No problem on that and I was in. I must say at this point, that I knew that Dessie had neighbours very close and I guessed that they probably lived in the other half of the house. So as I was walking through the pitch black back of the house, I was sure that I was going to run into an old woman in a terry cloth robe wielding a rolling pin. Once I found the sitting room, though, it became obvious that I was in Dessie’s. Records everywhere and newspaper sopping up recently spilled beer. Round to the front door, turned the latch and we were all in.