infoxicated

Due to the distraction of going to Dublin I almost forgot to mention the great Saturday afternoon we spent down in Concert Square in Liverpool a few weeks back.

As he was down from Glasgow for a stag do, Ade had dropped me a line suggesting that we meet up for a few drinks. I hadn’t seen him in a long time, with most of the visits back to Scotland over the last year or so being jam packed with one function or another, so I was glad he got in touch.

On the day, Fliss, Elisha and myself headed into town on the train at lunch time. This was partly to avoid the traffic and partly so that either of us could have a drink if we wanted. I’m not a big fan of public transport, but it worked out perfectly for us.

After looking around a few shops and grabbing a couple of slices of pizza for lunch, Ade got in touch to say he was trying to find a bar in nearby Concert Square. I gave him directions there and then we made our way up ourselves, fortuitously scoring a table on the quieter side of the square when we arrived.

This particular part of the city is always vibrant with the large concentration of bars in the area, and the antics of revellers is akin to free street entertainment. Such as the squad of lads cheering each other through a drunken game of poker, or the bearded man who turned up dressed as Wonder Woman. It makes for quite a pleasant atmosphere and, on a sunny day like this one, it’s easy enough to while away the hours just observing people.

Ade had been sitting at the corner of the square with his party of mates when he came over and found us as I came back from the bar. We chatted and had a few drinks over the next hour or so, catching up on what had been going on in each of our lives and those of friends up in Scotland whom I hadn’t seen in ages either.

Fast Friday
“Are you travelling on anywhere after Dublin, Mr Foxx?” the stoney faced policeman asked without looking up from the picture page of my passport.

It was Friday morning and I’d just made it through the metal detectors without having to remove my boots. Either I looked too relieved at not having to take them off and march back through in my socks, or maybe I just have one of those faces. Whatever the reason, the cynic in me suspected he was stopping me more to flex his authority muscle than he was to ensure the safety of society at the other end of my journey.

“No, I’m just going to Dublin for a couple of nights out.” I answered, immediately annoyed at myself for giving him more than the one word answer his passive–aggressive demeanour deserved. It was difficult to contain my enthusiasm for the fun that lay ahead of me, but I maintained a poker face with a hint of a smile.

“Okay, thankyou.” Officer Jobsworth said, handing my passport back with a slow nod and a wry smile that probably meant I’ll be watching you. I kept eye contact for as long as my bottle would hold and returned the nod and wry smile. He looked away first, feigning disinterest.

“Thank you.” I said, and went on my way with a cheesy grin. Oh yes – I was already on fire and I hadn’t even gotten on the plane yet.

Once through the gate and out on the apron I was relieved to see that it wasn’t a propellor engined plane that I’d presumed it to be. Instead, a new-ish looking 737 with fancy upturned wing tips sat poised for the short hop to Dublin. Nice. If I ever end up in a plane crash I want to go down in a blaze of modern technology, knowing that if all that knowhow couldn’t keep me in the sky it was probably my time anyway!

The flight itself seemed to be over really quickly – I had my PSP with me and barely got in a couple of rounds of Worms before I had to turn it off for landing. I always wonder why they make you turn things like that off upon landing and take-off. Surely it’s only going to distract me from the horror of something going wrong and that’s a good thing.