Another quiet Thursday night in Donleavy’s. JP, Rasher and Mono were occupying their usual stools at the bar. The atmosphere was just the way they liked it – a little background hum that gave the place a nice ambiance but not enough noise to stifle conversation and engagement. That being said – the boys had been silent for quite a while now – concentrating on the serious business of focused Guinness drinking – a competency that should not be taken lightly – and not one that is learned overnight – and certainly not just on a weekend trip to Dublin – or even a week’s holiday in Ireland. These guys had spent a lifetime enhancing their experience and expertise and richly deserved their status. If there were PhD’s being given out for ‘Guinness Appreciation’ – not only would each of the three have their own high-level qualification – they would be overcome with honorary degrees from a multitude of academic institutions.
But life does not always adequately reward the highly skilled members of our society – so the three amigos were left to sup their pints in as content a fashion as one could imagine for a wet Thursday night in March.
The silence between them was not uncomfortable for our highly proficient men. They were used to staring into the depths of the black liquid and only being distracted by a brief dalliance of considering the creamy head. In these depths lay knowledge and contemplation and a liquid pathway to wisdom. It didn’t necessarily need words to be exchanged. However – it nearly always did. And it usually began with an utterance from JP. And tonight, was no exception.
“I was reading an article.”
“Yeah”, came the reply in stereo.
“Yep.”
“Where do you get all these articles you read?” (Note to reader: the italics are not a slip of the fingers. Read into it what you may)
“Oh – here and there. You know.”
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. They didn’t know. That was why the question was asked. Guess they weren’t going to know any more tonight either. The two lads were expecting the next sentences to come from JP, but nothing was happening. He went back to drinking his pint and staring into the middle distance – or the mirror behind the bar – whichever.
It was Rasher who could take no more.
“You gonna tell us ‘bout dis article?”
“Yep.”
JP went back to his Guinness and prepared himself.
“It was about dying.”
“Oh, bloody hell, just what we want for a wet Thursday night”, Rasher pipped in.
“And….what about dying?”, Mono tried to force the pace. JP was legendary for his slow build ups.
A pause.
“Seems there was dis nurse…in Australia I think. Musta worked in a hospice. Gathered all the thoughts of the dying around what they shoulda done different like.”
“Nice topic.”
“Yeah”, intoned JP as gravely as he could, “but the article was framed like all these shite ones……5 ways to lose belly fat, 5 things the Ireland rugby coach needs to consider, 5 ways to make your willy longer…. you know the type.”
The boys nodded.
A pause.
“So…what was number one?”, Mono tried to push the pace again.
“Number one wha’?”
“Number one thing tha’ ya’d like to have done different when ya’re about to pop yer clogs.”
“I’m absolu 100% sure I know the bloody answer”, Rasher almost jumped out of the stool with excitement.
“Go on.”, the two others encouraged.
“Has to be…drum roll…rat-a-tat-tat…humpty dumpty, when pubic hair collides, karma sutra, the beast with two backs…forget the drugs and rock and roll…just give me more of that S-E-X. Hey, hey, JP. I nailed it. Yeah. Has to be.”
JP took out his pipe and started getting it ready. He had that habit of using this preparation as a response delaying tactic which, of course, infuriated Rasher and Mono.
“Humpty Dumpty, numero uno, I got it, didn’t I, JP?”
A cloud of smoke took different avenues from JP’s exhalation.
“Nope.”
“Ah well, I’m losing interest rapo in this article. Couldn’t be true. Number 2, so?”
“Nope – not even in the top 5.”
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. Eyes wide open.
“Bullshit so.”
“How the feck could ya believe it so?”
JP contentedly sucked away at his pipe knowing that he had the boys securely hooked – yet again – and all he needed to do was to reel them in at a pace of his own choosing.
“Go on then.”
“Go on then, wha’?”
“What’s bleedin’ number one regret?”
More smoke signals in Donleavy’s smoking area.
“Being more yourself”, JP piped up triumphantly.
“Wha’?”
“Wha’?”
A slight mistime on the stereo. More of a reverb really.
“Now let me get dis straight, JP”, Rasher fixed JP with a laser stare, “ya’re tellin’ me that of the milluns of folks tha’ die every week – their biggest regret is not bein’ demselves?”
JP nodded.
“Well who the feck are they, then?”
“Horseshite. Who is this bleedin’ nurse anyway?”
Rasher attacked his pint and let out a satisfying belch.
“OK, JP, let me tell ya wha’ we’re not goin’ to do here.”
JP looked at him quizzically through a screen of smoke.
“We’re not goin’ thru’ these one be one at a snail’s pace. Dis nurse babe has lost all credibility at number one. So just rant off d’others so we can see exactly wha’ kinda looney tune she is.”
JP thought for a while. You could tell he was weighing up his options. He’d love to string it out – regret by regret – but he knew if he tried to tear the arse out of this completely that he’d just lose each of the lad’s interest.
“OK. Deal.”
Mono and Rasher sat more comfortably in their seats. A small victory.
“Number two – worked too hard.”
“OK – can live with that.”
“Number three – expressed my feelings better.”
“Oh, Mother of the Divine – more of this mamby pamby nonsense.”
“Number four – spent more time with friends.”
“OK – can live with that.”
“Number five – let myself be happier.
“Oh, sweet mother – another namby pamby one. No wonder sex didn’t make the top 5.”
“I tell ya JP – you’d wanna seriously consider the type of shite ya’r readin’. Yer head could get turned inta some soft mush.”
“Yeah”, Rasher quickly interjected, “an’ yer deathbed regret will be tha’ ya didn’t listen more to Rasher and Mono and wasted yer life readin’ shite.”
JP smiled.
“Will we go for a batter burger?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Don’t wanna have a life of regrets tha’ we didn’t eat enough batter burgers.”
“Spot on.”
Scraping of stools on the bar floor.
“G’night Donleavy.”
“G’night lads.”
JP@Donleavy’s 