JP, Rasher and Mono were comfortably installed on their stools at Donleavy’s. Three creamy pints settling nicely in front of them. Their stools were separated from each other just a tad extra than how they normally would have been arranged. I mean to say – the lads had to make sure that they gave off the correct socially distanced signals as they drank their illicit pints in the pub way past the curfew time mandated by Government. It was the least that they could do to show some good behaviours and act like good role models for some of the younger punters who made up part of the elite imbibers whom Donleavy allowed to drink outside of the restriction times.
With Christmas on the horizon the three amigos were beginning to settle in to a more relaxed frame of mind. A casual observer would be able to see that shoulders were loose; muscles were slackened and if one were to be able to achieve magical invisibility superhero power and check each man out with a blood pressure monitor – well – the results would probably challenge those of an elite marathon runner. These boys were chilled. In fact, the pints had settled and there was no urgency to lift and slug. It seemed that the outside Covid infested world had been kept outside the sanctuary of Donleavy’s Drinking Emporium and all was OK with the inside world.
After what seemed like a monumental silence, Rasher broke in.
“Well. Will we just leave the feckin’ pints there as an art form? Like one of those bleedin’ modern art sculptures.”
“Why not? What’ll we call it?”
“Three pints.”
“Jaysus Mono, I can see now why ya scored top marks at school for lateral thinkin’.”
“Eternal drinkin’ more like.”
The three amigos looked at each other. Communication took place. No words were spoken but if the looks that passed between them had to be translated into words, then probably – ‘feck that modern art for a game of toy soldiers let’s just lorry into the pints’ – would be as near as one could possibly come to an accurate translation. In any event, whatever message was communicated ocularly – the pints were picked up and the first slug of the day was completed in a very satisfying way. Well, the ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ would bear witness to the level of satisfaction.
No words were exchanged for a while. That wasn’t unusual at this stage of the night. This was mindfulness – Donleavy’s Pub style. Getting into that relaxed breathing zone that slowed the world down and forced the satellites to momentarily readjust. Sometimes it even involved some lateral shoulder movement of the three amigos until the optimum relaxed shoulder co-ordinates had been fixed. The moment of perfection was being approached. Brain neurons were ticking over likes a mouse’s heart and were approaching optimum creativity. It was time for another slug of the black stuff just to ensure that lubrication of the senses was not an impediment to reaching the peak of the zone. Synchronous glass lifting occurred. All was good with the world. At least within the hallowed walls of Donleavy’s. Outside was different. Outside was banjaxed.
JP led off.
“Feck me. It is a bleedin’ pandemic, isn’t it?”
Rashed and Mono clarified the situation with a vigorous nod. There was a moment’s silence.
“Why d’ya ask?”
JP looked in turn at the two lads spanned either side of him.
“’Cause sometimes ya’d wonder.”
“Yeah? Why dat?”
JP didn’t answer the question directly. His mind was already three steps further into the game.
“I like that Mike Ryan fella.”
“Who? Mike Ryan who plays midfield for Clover United?”
“No – ya feckin’ ludramon. The guy in the WHO.”
“Did he replace Keith Moon on drums?”
JP was as close to fuming as he had ever been. He gave each one a stare that would have withered the bark on an oak tree.
“World Feckin’ Health Organisation Mike Feckin’ Ryan.”
“Ohhhh”
It was time for another drink of the pint. This was clear. The Zen Buddhist state had been well lost, and some necessary calm needed to be reinstated. This was a comfort drinking moment. The pints were synchronously drained. This was also a risk moment. Never a good strategy to have drained the glass without the safe knowledge that incoming were expected. Who knew what could happen when an empty glass presented itself in front of you? Donleavy could get distracted. A barrel might need to be changed. There could be an influx of people into the bar at just the wrong moment. There could be a global pandemic (unlikely that last one!). Mono raised a finger in the air with a small sense of panic. Only when it was acknowledged with an almost imperceptible nod of Donleavy’s head, did the three lads revert to any form of inner peace. Once Donleavy had the order not even a virulent attack from a spikey coronavirus would impede the brave bar owner from fulfilling this delivery of three fresh pints. Some things in this topsy-turvy world could still be relied upon. Even so – the three amigos were momentarily at a loose end without the comfort of pints in front of them. It wasn’t so much uncharted territory as dangerous terrain. Bit like walking through Ballyfermot after dark without a shotgun rider. You couldn’t really fully relax until you were home. You couldn’t really fully relax until the dark magic had arrived.
Pints did arrive. The tension dissipated. JP went back to his line of thought.
“What I really like about the W.H.O., non-drummer, non-footballer, Ryan is that he tells people to get their finger out of their hole and get on with it.”
“Eh…JP….I think what he actually said was that ‘perfection is the enemy of speed’”
“Yeah – well – same thing.”
They took a glug of their pints to settle themselves back into the rhythm.
“….and he tells it as it is. It’s a moving target. Whichever head pops up out of the box – you have to be prepared to hit that head with the hammer.”
“Eh…JP….I think what he actually said was that ‘science will follows the data’”
“Yeah – well – same thing.”
“Anyway – are we all agreed? Even if he can’t play the drums and he’d be a brutal midfielder – he’s still a good un?”
“With ya there.”
“10-4 good buddy.”
They went back to pint drinking for a while. It was good that harmony had been re-established and that the newly restored good vibes created harmonics that soothed this small portion of the world. JP suddenly straightened his spine and looked from one to the other.
“I nearly got distracted from me point.”
“Nah.”
“Never could happen.”
JP collected his thoughts into a laser focus before engaging his brain which meshed into his larynx and started his mouth opening and closing.
“Them feckin’ politicians….and I mean the opposition ones. What a shower of shits. Middle of a global pandemic and they want a committee or a commission, or whatever they call it, to review how the Government is handlin’ the pandemic. I’m mean. Feck it. It’d be the same as someone following a fireman’s hose into a burnin’ buildin’ and sayin’ – ‘hey lads, we should review how yer doin’ this’ – or gettin’ in the way of the ambulance person as he or she tries to breathe life into a dyin’ body – and ask them for some time to review how the ambulance service is workin’. Are they fer real?”
It was a long soapbox speech from JP. Longer than his normal outbursts. There was clearly a passion and depth of feeling here. Mono and Rasher nodded vigorously. Rasher joined in.
“And fer feck sake – them union people, spokespeople, lobbyists – whatever they are called. When there’s a new wave of restrictions or recommendations – and they come on the TV and radio saying that their members would have trouble understandin’ or workin’ with what’s being put forward.”
Mono took up the line.
“True fer ya Rasher. I always understand it. They must be quare thick if they can’t get it.”
JP was left with the final say.
“I agree with the both of ye. And the bleedin’ teachers. When they come on and say they don’t understand it, or they can’t work it – well ya’d have to be thinkin’ – well ask one of yer bleedin’ students – they’ll feckin’ explain it to ya and come up with ways to work it. Amadans.”
The boys settled back down. It was getting close to time to visit the chipper. They gave Donleavy the nod. They drained their pints.
Just another night in Donleavy’s.
JP@Donleavy’s 