JP, Mono and Rasher were again to be found in the back yard of Donleavy’s pub seated in garden chairs around massive electrical cable drums acting as tables. Three creamy pints settled in front of them. Donleavy waltzed through the various cable drums dispensing good humour and pints in equal measure. He was like a publican reborn now that the Covid regulations had relaxed. Relaxed was the appropriate word to describe the atmosphere. Donleavy’s mood had always been the barometer for the ambience of the imbibers – when he was relaxed, they were all relaxed – when he was moody it was difficult to lift the spirits of the customers beyond a certain threshold.
“Well – Sláinte – here’s to the death of many more Covid rules.”
“Yeah – it’s good to be drinkin’ legal pints at last.”
“Hopefully we get back inside soon. This outdoor drinkin’ is fine when the sun is shinin’ but this weather can never last.”
“Yeah – ya never said a truer word. We’ll soon be back to all four seasons in the one day.”
They raised their glasses and drank. Ooohs and aaahs of satisfied contentment followed. It was good to be alive – and given ‘Rona and UK and Brazilian and South African and Indian ‘Rona flying around in invisible droplets – it was good on so many levels to be alive and healthy.
JP was staring into the middle distance. He still missed the bar counter and the bar mirror as a focal point for his attention. He also couldn’t really get used to the three of them sitting at sixty-degree angles to one another. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be done. Pint drinkers should be in a line beside each other – perched on proper stools at the bar counter – with a suitably located foot rail for balance. Not these bloody garden chairs. Mono was dead on. They needed to get back inside. His gaze was momentarily drawn to one of the Covid posters. Usual stuff. 2-meters. Masks. Social distancing. Wash hands. The last bit sparked a conversation opener.
“Pears Soap.”
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher.
“Eh, yeah. Pears make soap. What of it?”
“I bought some last week. I had it on me to-do list for a while. I finally got around to buyin’ a bar.”
The two boys again looked at each other and then at JP. Rasher took the follow up.
“Eh, yeah. Well, fair play to ya. Spirit of covid handwashin’ and all tha’.”
Mono then took the reins.
“Yeah. Fair dues….and let me say on behalf of meself and Rasher…. we’re really glad you shared tha’ with us.”
They went back to synchronised drinking. It was necessary to intersperse the conversation with frequent lubrication. JP put his pint glass back on the electrical cable drum and mimicked washing his hands.
“It was important to me lads.”
The two boys looked more quizzically at each other – this was getting a bit weird. Do they wait for JP to further hold court? Do they ask what the big deal was? In the absence of further clarification ensuing Rasher couldn’t wait any longer.
“Wha’ the feck was so important about buyin’ a bar of bleedin’ soap?”
JP looked at them both in turn.
“It’s a sign.”
“A sign?”
“Yeah – a sign.”
“A sign of bleedin’ wha’? Tha’ with all the bleedin’ handwashin’ going on, tha’ we haven’t run out of bleedin’ soap? What are you witherin’ on about JP?”
JP took his thoughts for a run out into the open.
“When I was young, we had bars of soap”
“Oh, glad to hear it. Definitely.”
“We had these bars of soap and I’d swear you could still smell the cow fat from it. Or the potash not fully washed out of it. And it came in a block the size of a buildin’ brick.”
“Jaysus – yeah JP – I remember now. Ya’d never get the better of it.”
“Jaysus – I remember too – now that ya say it. Ya’d never get a sud from it either. Ya’d wonder how the feck we actually cleaned ourselves.”
They each had another swig from their glasses and momentarily stayed with their own individual thoughts for a while. From soap to silver, from sophistication to stupidity, from silly to sublime – all the spectrum was savoured in Donleavys. Every thought was sacred. Every feeling was open to scrutiny (and ridicule!). JP took up the discussion again.
“I didn’t have a happy childhood.”
The two boys nearly coughed their pint back into its glass.
“Feck sake JP – that’s a bit of a statement.”
“Yeah. Think ya’ve crossed a line there. JP.”
“That could constitute – what do they call it? Vulnerability?”
“Yeah JP….and whatever they call it ….we don’t do that personal shit in this pub.”
“Yeah JP – save that kind of shite for the dentist or the physiotherapist or the optician or whoever the feck has the most comfortable chair.”
“Bang out of order, JP.”
JP took it all in his stride. He was used to these outbursts. Like ‘Old Faithful’, the lads needed to vent steam on a regular basis. He examined the volume left in the glasses and raised a supply chain finger as Donleavy made another delicate swirling move through the chicane of some of the cable drum tables.
“A bar of Pears soap”, was all that he replied.
“JP, yer satellite has just been shot out of our earth’s orbit. What the feck are ya gettin’ at?”
Donleavy landed more pints. Truly this publican was a legend. How he served such glorious pints with such world record speed would always remain a mystery. The three amigos luxuriated in the vision of that final settling process – where the eddies of white disappeared, and the black mystery took control. A textbook separation. JP never ceased to be amazed by the mesmerising physics that was at play in the art of the pint.
“I remember visiting a friend’s house one time. I’d made friends with this girl and her parents had their nest fairly feathered at the bank.”
“Fair play JP. If ya’d played yer cards well, ya could now be sippin’ cocktails in the Horseshoe Bar of the Shelbourne hotel, rather than skullin’ pints with yours truly.”
“Naw. No chance. I know now – she was just rebellin’ against her parents and I was just a bit of tough to annoy them. Never gonna last. But it was interestin’ while it did last.”
“Jaysus JP – so you’ve actually seen how the other half live? Yeah? Yachts and racehorses and caviar and champagne? Yeah?”
“Oh, and Pims during Wimbledon week, for sure.”
JP looked back in the middle-distance reliving a past experience. A smile grew across his face.
“I got to drive her Father’s Jag. Can’t remember what size it was but the engine had way more litres than we could put away in a night.”
“Jaysus.”
“Yeah – in the beginning she roared at me to slow down. I couldn’t figure out what she was on about. But I was looking at the rev counter rather than the speedo.”
They all had a good chuckle over that one.
“Jaysus JP, you were probably getting clearance from Houston.”
JP was still smiling.
“So, what was it really like.”
“Oh, a lovely car right enough.”
“Naw. Naw. Hanging out with the swanks?”
JP inhaled deeply and let out his breath really steadily and really slowly. He thought for a few minutes before he spoke. The two boys were urging him on.
“Everyone smelled nice. Everything smelled nice.”
“What the feck do you mean by that?”
“It’s like the Pears Lifebuoy thing. No big bar of fat soap still smelling of a cows udder or a horses arse. It’s what I’m telling you. Everyone…Everything…and I bought the bar of Pears soap because I wanted to get away from that unhappy Lifebouy time. I wanted to get that Pears feeling.”
They all had a think about that. Rasher was still not fully pleased that they may have entered the personal stadium here and it had always been agreed that games involving deep feelings were banned. Maybe if he wasn’t courting displeasure he might not have responded as coldly as he did.
“I think ya may have overplayed this one JP.”
JP turned in surprise.
“What happens if yer washing yer mitts and instead of remindin’ ya of nice-smellin’ rich byors, it just brings back yer lifebuoy unhappy memories?”
JPs face went a little vague for a while. Clearly, he was having to work overtime to process this. He finally cleared the fog.
“Tell ya what. Let’s go the chipper van for a nice smoked cod and chips.”
“That’s more like it, JP.”
“Sound as a brown trout. Give Donleavy the nod there.”
They made their way out the back gate
Just another night in Donleavy’s.
Well – maybe a slightly different night.
JP@Donleavy’s 