What I miss about Limerick

MCGOO rang me the other morning.

Well, it was morning for me.

Well, it was morning for me on a Saturday so we'll say around noon in Vancouver and 8pm in Limerick.

"Well Johnny, what's the craic bull? Is it still roasting out there? I'm packing 12 bottles of baby oil for the beach for when I get there. Two weeks better be long enough to get the tan on kid!"

The two of us chatted for a bit about his upcoming trip to Canada - which I have been made promise will be as good if not better than a week at the Galway Races which McGoo is missing in lieu of the trip across the Atlantic. Before long, he had to go as he was meeting a few of the lads in Fennessy’s for a few “creamies”.

For a few moments, I became quite jealous of McGoo, making the short walk from his house up to the corner house at the junction of South Circular Road and New Street, where he would exchange friendly but nonetheless stern abuse with the bar staff until the wee hours of the morning. Don't get me wrong, I love it here, but even for a few hours it would have been nice to go up and spend one evening with the crew back home.

And that got me thinking of some of the things that I miss about Limerick which I obviously felt the need to list here. So in no particular order;

Fennessy's: One of the nicest pints in the city, not to mention great company, and the Peony Court only across the road for when nothing will sit better on top of a few pints but a Chilli Chicken without the chilli.

Thomond Park: I was still only getting used to our superb new stadium when I left and will definitely be pining for its atmosphere when the Heineken Cup starts again (particularly this season, now that the maul is back and Munster are going to rip the rest of Europe a new one).

Limerick Hurling: It's bloody typical that they've started to do well now that I'm out of the country. In fact, they'll probably win the bloody thing this year and I'll only get to watch the highlights four days later when someone finally uploads the Sunday Game on to Youtube.

Bruff RFC: Thomond Park may have doubled its capacity and become one of the finest rugby stadiums in the world last year, but at the same time a burger stand was introduced in Kilballyowen Park and that just about tips the scales in favour of the latter ground when it comes to deciding which of the two provides the better match day experience. I most likely won't even be able to watch the highlights on Youtube when we get promoted to Division One this year unless they stick a studio beside the burger stand.

The Limerick Leader: The staff there may no longer claim knowledge of me but I'm still very grateful to them all for the two great years of guidance and friendship they gave to the gobshite work experience student who couldn't write a snappy intro to save his life.

That's all for now methinks, if I've left anything out feel free to point it out.

Update: Oh good God I almost forgot. Were I to come back to Limerick for one night only, I would of course also love to fit a few minutes in with my family if I could find time between drinking pints, gorging on Chinese food, going to rugby and hurling matches and reminiscing with my old workmates!

Kiwi Golf

WHAT with the weather being so nice and my departure from these shores growing ever closer, myself, Coynie, McGoo and The Kiwi decided we'd try something new and take on a round of golf.

Being under the age of 40 and still somewhat able-bodied, it's rare enough that our crew would go on such an excursion. However, through a bit of dumb luck the Kiwi had gotten us a free round at a beautiful course just about three quarters of an hour away from Limerick.

While walking through the city in his flip flops, shorts and T-Shirt (as is a New Zealander's wont on a freezing cold Irish afternoon) The Kiwi was stopped by another native of the Land of the Long White Cloud.

"You know you'd pass for a New Zealander," said the lady.
"That's because I am a New Zealander," replied our Kiwi.
"O well, if you're looking for work or just a free round of golf then you should come out to XXXXXXX golf course, my boyfriend's the green keeper there," said she.
"Alright then I will." said he.

So just like that - in an economic climate where the average Irish person would accept 10 cent an hour for a job taste-testing septic tanks - The Kiwi had managed to get a free round of golf and a feckin' job to boot. As if taking (although sampling is probably a better word) our women wasn't bad enough, now the foreigner had started robbing our jobs and free golf rounds also.

But all was forgiven on Saturday morning when The Kiwi told us he'd booked us all in for a 3.15 tee-off time at the course. Coynie agreed to drive and just as we left our lair, The Kiwi said that we'd to stop at the shop for provisions.

A bottle of water, a few bananas, maybe even some sun cream given the weather. These were the things we expected our resident New Zealander had meant by "provisions". What we didn't realise is that what he actually required was 18 cans of Budweiser which he intended on us drinking as we played.

"Well how do you play it here then?" he asked upon hearing the gasps and seeing our expressions, as he struggled to fit all that canned fun into our golf bags.

But being the sorts that are open to new experiences however, we said we'd give The Kiwi's different, more rock star-ish approach to golf a go. Being the disgruntled designated driver, Coynie didn't speak much on the way out while the three of us got the party started.

Now before you go thinking we made an absolute disgrace of ourselves on the course, hollering abuse at other (paying) golfers, climbing the trees and defecating in the holes, don't worry.

While we may have gotten a few funny looks, adorned as we were in flip-flops, bruff rfc warm up t-shirts and occasionally putting with just one hand because the other was holdin a can of Bud, the feathers at the course remained relatively unruffled.

I'd recommend Kiwi Golf though. It mightn't make you the most accurate or well-mannered player in the world but it certainly livens up the sodding game.