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June 05, 2005

The Christmas Party

The walk will do me good. Hopping off the Arrow the air hits me with its winter bite as I throw one end of my red scarf over my shoulder and clumsily fumble with my gloves until my thumb is where my index finger should be and my little finger isn’t even in there at all. There’s not a cloud in sight in the sky above Newbridge Train Station. Its just as it was way back in February when I started out in this column. It was actually snowing! That’s what the very first column was about! Snow. In February. I hurry on, noticing I’m headed in the direction of the North Star. Bloody hell. Trust me to be late for the Trains, Buses & Automobiles Christmas Party that’s already started an hour ago in my own bloomin’ abode. I expect the merriment will be well under way. Thank heavens I’ve hidden a good vintage bottle of port under the stairs. No one will think to look there. Not that they’ll be looking. As far as the caterer said, the rum should be flowing like the Nile. Bloody hell. Eleven fifteen. I’m even later than I thought. I could blame the train for being late but I suppose it wasn’t really. Considering I missed the earlier Arrow and was forced to get a later train back from Dublin it was more a case of me being late than the train but how and ever its nice to be heading back home after a day of doing lunch in the city. Bloody hell. I nearly slip on the ice that’s covering most of the path. Probably shouldn’t have been trying to skate on it though. At last my cosy residence is in view.

Every light in the house is on. So far so good. At the door I can hear Shakin’ Stevens singing “Merry Christmas Everyone.” The door is opened by none other than Santa Claus himself or rather someone dressed as him. “Ho, ho, ho. Come in, come in.” Stepping into the house was the opposite of stepping off the Arrow. Instead of chill there was a cosy blanket of warmth. I hung my coat up and headed past the people chatting happily in the hallway. “Hey Liam, trademark lateness again?” said one of them. “You betcha!” I beamed. Inside the sitting room was crammed with people, most if not all who’d made cameo appearances in this column at some stage or another. I spotted Jeff and Zowie drifting towards the mistletoe through the crowd. That’s when I spotted $chmackey, lead vocalist of this columns’ house band $chmackey and the Salads over by the fireplace. I was exchanging wit with him when Rocking Around the Christmas Tree started playing. “I love this song!” I said. $chmackey frowned. “That makes one of us,” he grimaced. “Its dangerous for one thing.” “What’s dangerous?” I asked bewildered. “Rocking around the Christmas tree,” he said. “Especially with the lights.” Indeed. I ambled over to the food table where the Salads bassist Hank was surveying the delicacies. “Cake,” I offered. “That’s suggestive,” he answered. Undeniably. I made my way over to say hello to Jeff, weekend commuter. “So Jeff how were the trains, buses and automobiles for ya?” He grinned. “Don’t you mean trains, trams and automobiles?” Ah, touché. “Well,” he continued. “It had its good times and bad times. More so bad times then good times but what can you do when you got 35 year old carriages hauling a crowd of narky commuters at about 30 miles and hour?” Mmm. Rhetorical question. That’s when the doorbell rang.

I made my way back to the hall eager to greet at least one guest after being an hour late! It was none other than Franky Stein who plays keyboards for $chmackey and the Salads and is arguably the genius behind their songs. With Franky was Mary aka Princess Tomato. “C’mon in guys.” I took their coats. “Sure is cold outside,” Franky said. “Would you like a drink?” I say getting into the host role. Franky nods his head. “Yes, please. I’ll have a rum with Pepsi. It has a lower sodium content and it mixes better than coke.” And for Princess Tomato? “No thanks. I’m driving.” I do my very best to welcome Franky and Princess Tomato as only a few weeks ago they offered me flawless hospitality in the form of Swiss roll, biscuits and tea when I visited their abode. I point to the grand piano in the centre of the room. “I’d be honoured of you play us a few tunes.” Franky kindly obliged.

It was then I spotted the scouser legend Paul Winters sitting comfortably in an armchair on the other side of the room. “Would you like some port?” Paul nodded. “No I don’t like it.” An acquired taste perhaps. Me and Paul chatted away. “So are you enjoying the column?” I ask, fingers crossed. Paul pauses dramatically before he says, “I fear that the title may be somewhat misleading. For a train spotter you don’t seem to write about the great western flying Scotsman diesel engine very often. .” He’s got me there. “Did you ever notice,” he continues, “that Newbridge Station is exactly like the Fat Controllers station in Thomas the Tank Engine?” I can’t say that I have. Paul looks genuinely amazed by his revelation. “The resemblance is incredible actually.” So what do you think of our piano player, Franky? “I think he’s marvellous,” replies Paul. “I like his use of the elbow and his slumped demeanour.” What do you mean? “He reminds me of Animal from the Muppets,” Paul elaborates. “He just wants to play rock and roll. You can see the angst in his eyes as he plays White Christmas for the umpteenth time.” “Really?” I ask. “I’ll be back to talk to you later,” I say to Paul as I head for the piano. I hear Paul’s voice saying “I’ll talk you to later, that’s ok. I’ll just sit here under the mistletoe desperate for company.”

When I get to the piano Frankys eyes light up when I ask him to play his bands signature song – The Stars Wars Rap. He stands up and says “This toast is going out to Corey Feldman for admitting he’s America’s biggest Salads fan.” That’s when the unmistakable intro of the Star Wars Rap kicks in. I gaze around the room. Everyone’s dancing and singing and talking. This is ace. I headed back out into the kitchen to fix myself a JD and coke but while I’m putting the ice in the glass one of the guests comes in looking a tad bit concerned. “You’d better come in here Liam. The Christmas tree’s on fire.”

Merry Christmas to all my readers and especially to the people who make my column what it is by being in it. I love you guys!


Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist (page 6

Posted by LiamG at June 5, 2005 10:13 PM