JP took another generous gulp of his pint as he admired himself in the mirror behind the bar counter. His trusty lieutenants – Rasher and Mono – imbibed in synchronous fashion. This was how it was, and this was how it had always been. There was a telepathic avenue between the drinking amigos that resulted in pints being swallowed at the same times and in equal quantities. No doubt scientists and psychologists – if they had a mind – could explore this in wondrous detail and publish many illustrious medical and scientific papers from the outputs. And – no doubt – the effects of decades of drinking in Donleavy’s pub would be better understood for future generations to muse upon and place in the pantheon of scientific discoveries.
Donleavy himself could do with some psychological assistance as we all made our way through this Covid-19 pandemic. The stress of operating the bar illegally for his trusted customers had taken its toll. He was a shrunken version of what he used to be and as grumpy as a pig with a lighted cigar stuck up its hole. Gone was the ballerina bar owner with a friendly word for everyone as he floated up and down the bar. Present was a mumbling, plodding, hangdog whom everyone avoided save for the mechanics of ordering more incoming pints.
“Is there an end in sight?”
JP threw out the question to the two lads. It required no clarification as to what ‘end’ referred. There were very little other topics of conversation. Everything started and ended with bloody immunology conversation. Death toll. R-number. New cases. ICU numbers. Variants. Lockdown. Restrictions. Easing of restrictions. Tightening of restriction. N-PHET. Politicians doing their best. Politicians making an unholy bollocks of things. Gobshite deniers. Wuhan. Italy. UK. South Africa. Brazil. India. Vaccines. Astra Zeneca shambles. J&J one shot. Pfizer flavour please. Who ever heard of Moderna before? Vector vaccine on a piece of a monkey. Send RNA in with a message and no return address. Learning as we go. In this together – my hole. Stay Strong. Stay Safe. Social Distancing. Two metres. Disposable Facemasks. Fashion Facemasks.
“Yeah. We’re into the final now. Vaccine FC against Viral Wanderers.”
“Nice one.”
“Yeah – I hear Viral have just signed a new striker from India. Supposed to be lethal as fuck anywhere within the penalty area. Prolific is the description he’s coming with. Will take a lot of markin’.”
“Ah – Vaccine are on a roll thou’. They’ve really been puttin’ themselves out there and it shows. Gettin’ some mighty results – and the word is – their defence will have the measure of the Indian lad.”
“All or nothin’ game.”
“Yeah – just like any final.”
JP looked at himself in the mirror again. He couldn’t get over how tidy he looked. That trip to the barber had made a new man out of him. He didn’t like to think about it, but he was pretty sure he missed the last time the barbers were allowed to open between lockdowns. So – it could actually have been a year since his last tonsorial experience…and…a JP with flowing locks was not exactly a romantic profile like a Byron or a Shelly. Bit more akin to an Indigent or a Homeless. He’d treated himself to the full works at the Turkish Barbers – cut, shave, hot towels – the lot. He came out feeling like a new man ready to single-handedly box the shite out of the coronavirus all by himself.
“D’ya know what lads?”
“Go on…”
“One thing this pandemic has done – it’s completely changed me expectations.”
“How so?”
“Look at me. I got a few hairs chopped off me noggin and that lovely nurse down in the GP threw me first jab into me arm – and I feel like all me bleedin’ Christmases have come together.”
“True for ya.”
They all took another sup on the strength of that. A bit of a shearing and a treble twenty in the arm and the world seemed good. No whinging over a pay rise – just happy to have pay. No bitching about a mortgage – just happy to still have a home. Thanks to Donleavy – no whining about being locked down – pints still flowing every night they want them. Not in ICU. Not working in ICU. Know people who got slapped by the virus but no-one who took a killer punch. Yep – looking at the world through a different lens.
“Wont last of course”
It was Mono who broke the good feeling.
“Why d’ya say tha’?”
“Talkin’ to an old fellow recently. He was a kid durin’ the London Blitz. After VE day there was this pure belief tha’ they’d all live in a different world.”
“And…?”
“Well – they’d all been in it together. Where have ya heard that phrase?”
“Sounds familiar OK.”
“The spirit of all in it together didn’t last pissin’ time. Every man for himself took over fairly quick.”
“Yeah. Could see that happenin’.”
“So – enjoy this team of us while it lasts. In fact, I’d even suggest we should seize the moment and have onion rings with the one and one in the chipper on the way home.”
“Feck it – that sounds like a plan.”
“Give Donleavy the nod.”
The lads made their way through the covert exit of the back room and the store area and out into the darkness of the rear yard.
Just another night in Donleavy’s.
JP@Donleavy’s 