The pints were going down well – about that there was no doubt. What was also not in doubt was that Donleavy served the best pint this side of the Tibetan Highlands. All seemed temporarily good with the world. To hell with your geopolitical instability and your new world order and tariffs and genocides and NAVI worlds or VUCA worlds or Davos or G7, 8, 20 or any other alphanumeric. These pints were good, and you sometimes just have to live in the moment. JP, Rasher and Mono were sitting contentedly on their respective barstools with very little being exchanged in conversation. Every now and then it is good to just luxuriate in the unspoken understanding and comfort that comes with years of friendship. To the onlooker it would have seemed that our three life-hardened warriors were perched on their barstools just individually staring into the middle distance. What this onlooker would not have taken into account, was that these guys were quite likely individually mulling over the great philosophical quandaries of our time.
But individual reveries were never allowed to last forever in this environment and were typically punctured by either Donleavy adding his spice to the mix on one of his jaunts up and down behind the counter, or JP throwing a curve ball to initiate a discourse. This evening it was the latter.
“Jayzus lads. Isn’t it amazin’ how things often come full circle?”
Mono looked at Rasher. Rasher looked at Mono. The looks had this unspoken aspect which generally contained questions like ‘will we sit this out and let him rant away?’ or ‘should we ask him what he’s on about?’ or ‘lets do nothing in the hope he goes back to being quiet’. On this occasion Rasher couldn’t contain himself.
“No doubt yer goin’ to expand on this wonderment, JP. We’re all ears.”
JP firstly gave that subliminal signal that resulted in each reaching for their pint glass in perfect synchronicity and harmony. A masterful exhibition of Olympic level performance where glasses were raised, imbibed and lowered with perfect timing and returned to beer mats with exact volumes removed. Amazing. JP regained his thoughts.
“Priests.”
That was all he said. It hung out there. Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. Shoulders were shrugged. Eyebrows were raised. A time was allowed to elapse, but Mono couldn’t take anymore.
“Yeah. So bleedin’ wha’ ‘bout priests. Are they circular now or somethin’?”
JP looked at each in turn knowing he had them hooked.
“D’ya ‘member when we used to export priests in bleedin’ great numbers to deepest, darkest Africa? D’ya ‘member that?”
They nodded.
“Well now go into any bleedin’ church in the country and we’re importin’ priests from Africa. D’ya agree?”
They nodded. It was definitely true.
“That’s wha’ I mean ‘bout some things goin’ full circle. Exports now imports. D’ya get me?”
Rasher surveyed the remaining volume in their glasses. Another visit to their pints could easily bring them to a perilously low inventory level. This must be avoided at all costs for the level of anxiety that it could catalyse. It was time to trigger the reorder point. Rasher raised a finger in the air, and the signal was received loud and clear by Donleavy. The risk could be considered passed and a potential crisis had been averted. Donleavy set about his task and incoming could be confidently relied upon.
This time it was Mono who piped in to keep the conversation ticking over.
“Immigration and coffin ships.”
The other two looked perplexed.
“Well. D’ya member Irish history? Since the famine there’s been people headin’ to the U.S. in their droves. D’ya member yer history books? ‘Searchin’ for a better life’ was always the phrase that was used.”
The two considered this.
“And wha’s happenin’ now? There’s a whole legion of Yanks lookin’ for Irish passports and movin’ from the U.S. to Ireland. And why do they say they’re doin’ it….?”
There were smiles all around and a chorus of the three together in perfect harmony:
“….searchin’ for a better life.”
That consensus conclusion was definitely worth a clink of the glasses so they did the three-way clink and felt confident about subsequently draining their pints as they could see Donleavy on his way with the triangle of fresh pint glasses cradled in his big bartender hands.
“Cheers Donleavy.”
“Cheers lads. Wha’s the craic today? Wha’s the hot topic of conversation?”
They spent a moment watching the magic of the pint settling before JP, who had initiated the topic, felt it was only appropriate that he acted as spokesperson.
“Things goin’ full circle Donleavy. Any big thoughts yerself.”
Donleavy was back, quick as a flash.
“Vinyl.”
The three amigos echoed a question back.
“Vinyl?”
Donleavy was quick again with his elaboration.
“Vinyl. LP’s. Long playin’ records. They died. Replaced by cassettes and 8-tracks and CDs and downloads. Record shops went out of business and shut down. And now – it’s cool to play vinyl. New LPs are bein’ offered, record players are bein’ manufactured again and are back in fashion. Even the odd scratch is like a badge of honour on the playin’ quality.”
“Jayzus yer bang on Donleavy.”
“Who knows wha’s goin’ to come back next – DVD’s?”
“….or Nokia phones?”
“….or posted letters?”
“….or corner shops?”
“….or floral pattered bell bottom trousers.”
They all had a guffaw at the last one – no doubt remembering the garish type that each of them inevitably wore at some stage but none of them having the courage to own up to this memory.
Donleavy looked down the counter.
“Right lads. Got to go. Some thirsty punters need attention or maybe even revivin’.”
Donleavy glided down behind the bar counter and the lads were left to their thoughts of things that were once revered that had fallen away by the wayside. There was silence for a while as they nursed both their thoughts and their pints. After what seemed like a long while JP threw in a new contribution.
“I’ve got one tha’ I would love to come back full circle, lads.”
He had their attention. JP took a pause for dramatic effect. He looked at each of them in turn. Then he went for it.
“World bleedin’ order and shaggin’ democracy.”
There was nodding and tutting and a realisation that the conversation had moved from fun and triviality to somewhere different. JP felt strongly about his interjection but was also very conscious of the mood.
“I know I made a pitch for democracy but I’m goin’ to issue an executive order here.”
The two lads were intrigued.
“When we finish these pints, we’re goin’ to the chipper for a battered and a bag. No dissenters. No argument. Executive order. Lack of compliance punished by extreme measures.”
Smiles all around.
“We’ll follow your order, JP.”
“Down to the very last salt and vinegared chip.”
They raised their glasses.
Just another night in Donleavy’s.
JP@Donleavy’s 