content.jpg

« June 2005 | Main | August 2005 »

July 27, 2005

HARRY POTTER: The Column

For some people last Friday 14th July was simply a day to recover after all the revolutionary happenings on Bastille Day. For everyone else, whether they liked it or not, it was the day when at the stroke of midnight, Harry Potter’s latest novel went on sale. Now I won’t deny it. I like Harry Potter. Or rather I used to like to Harry Potter. I was one of the unfortunate members of the Potter Reader Army. An army like most consisting of mainly soldiers who were all too young. We dragged our way through the trenches of every new Potter book, slaughtering chapters as we marched. But somewhere along the borders of Harry’s fifth outing I got left behind. Wounded somewhere around page 120 when I could take no more. I was discharged from the unit and left in the barracks to read nothing but Hemmingway. Ah, sweet relief.
 
 
So last week when Paul "I’m going to write a letter to your editor about how you say I’m a bad driver every week" Winters (who really is a very bad driver by the way) invited me to a Harry Potter midnight launch, I was wary to say the least. But when I thought about it - Winter’s Driving, Harry Potter, Midnight, Naas - it had next week’s column written all over it. As per usual I was late meeting Paul and in turn we were late. It was already 11.20pm and we had to drive to Naas, find this new bookstore Barker and Jones and then set up the lights which Paul was providing. And also as per usual Paul pushed in his Pink Floyd CD which is supposedly supposed to calm me down while being in the GW mobile. But it always has something of the foreboding "about to crash into a tree" thing about it. We swerved into Naas town which appeared to be more or less deserted, that is until we got closer to Barker and Jones bookstore where upwards of a hundred people dressed in wizards costumes had assembled outside. Good grief, as Charlie Brown would say.
 
 
 We swerved a bit more until we arrived at the back of the store at which point we lunged out of the car, equipment in hand. Now I had never even heard of this new bookstore (which only opened two weeks ago) so when we went inside I discovered we weren’t going to be in a shoebox size traditional book shop but an American style book chain with three floors and an escalator! (At this point the whole town of Naas gasps collectively - "We’ve got an escalator!?) Yes, that’s right, Naas, you’ve got an escalator. I was suitably impressed especially by the wonderful painting of the sky leading to a golden city that stretches the entire three floors. I was soon brought back to reality when it appeared I had to actually help set up the lights and not merely stand around and look as I was doing so. With minutes to spare we grabbed a cup of tea (what else!) and stood near the front door waiting for it to be opened at midnight. But when it looked like we might actually be in danger from a million Harry Potter kids stampeding to get their copy we chose a more suitable position to watch from - behind the biography section. Midnight finally arrived and the staff (all dressed as wizards and Dementors from the books) opened the doors.
 
 
Now the first thing I said to Paul was "Do you ever feel like you don’t fit in?" because we we’re the only ones not in costume. Sure, I could have passed as an older Potter and Winters would have made a dodgy Hagrid but the fact remained that we simply looked like "Herbie Goes Banana’s" in an Oscar category. Books practically threw themselves off the shelves at kids with big dark circles other their eyes. They’re addicts, no doubt about it. Looking bewildered at the madness that surrounded us we welcomed a member of staff asking us to go up to the second floor and to make sure no-one was getting lost as the second and third floor’s were closed. Relishing in the chance to root around the place me and Paul hoped into the lift and proceeded to poke around the floor - a DVD and music shop with adjoining café. We decided that we could keep watch from the comfort of the Café. Now you’d think nothing exciting would happen and we could enjoy the chocolates that Paul had paid for, but for the purposes of our story, swiped but no. From our view we see some guy making a run for the top floor with a Guard in hot pursuit.
 
 
Eager to help fight crime Paul took after the Guard while I ran out to the stairs to make sure no one got by. After a second or two another Guard emerged from downstairs and eyed me suspiciously prompting me to do the classic guilty stance - pointing up stairs and then saying "He went that’a way, officer." "Are you a member of staff?" asked the Guard. "Eh . . . no," I replied, once again putting myself in the description of suspect which I have an uncanny knack for. The voice of the Guard upstairs saved me and I retired back to my café seat with Paul where I amused myself by texting various friends with messages like "Harry dies!" until closing time was announced. It was going to take more than magic to survive the 1am drive back to Newbridge . . .
 
Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist (pg.6)

Posted by LiamG at 11:00 PM

July 19, 2005

LIVE 8: That Feel Good Feeling For The Masses

Last Saturday I got home around six after missing the first couple of hours of Live 8 that saturated newspapers, TV and the internet for the past few days. Like a lot of people I watched most of the concert, dipping in and out of it through the evening and late into the night. When it was all over though I couldn’t think of anyway the concert had benefited the people of Africa. I sat there thinking from a personal point of view my awareness certainly hasn’t been altered or heightened. I always knew there was poverty, AIDS and people dieing from starvation in the world. I knew that from when I was a kid. So then I thought obviously Sir Bob isn’t trying to raise my awareness and the public’s awareness because we’re already very aware. He must be trying to let the bigwigs in politics know what’s going on. That must be it. But surely they know of Africa’s problems too? In fact I’m certain they do.

So there I was, in the middle of the night, with only the light from the TV static illuminating the room and feeling terribly, terribly confused. What exactly did Live 8 achieve that warranted so much news coverage? Live 8 raised about as much awareness as one of those TV ads for Concern do. Whereas people usually switch channel when one of those awfully depressing charity adverts comes on, with Live 8, everyone was clued to their sets watching Madonna and Robbie Williams. The rock stars even threw in the odd “Let’s Make Poverty History!” shouts. Oh with what passion they shouted the same slogan out over and over again. It was almost enough to make you run out of your living room and onto the street looking for some poverty and then, eh, making it history.

Ah, but therein lies the quandary. Making Poverty History isn’t like Making People Happy. To make people happy you just need a few rock stars singing a few songs everyone loves but to make poverty history is a much more complex matter and Sir Bob shouldn’t be sending out bite size demands that the public can swallow easily. Some commentators have denounced Geldof’s efforts as trying to put us all on a guilt trip. I don’t agree with this idea. I believe the complete opposite. That Live 8 didn’t make people feel guilty it made us feel the exact opposite. If you supported Live 8 by saying so, going to it or watching it on TV it some how vindicated your lack of charitable spirit when you ignore those Third World Charity Muggers on the streets of Dublin. Because supporting Live 8 was essentially supporting a charity that wasn‘t looking for money. We didn’t have to part with anything at all to take a share of the glory.

Unlike the many rock stars like U2, Madonna and even indie bands like The Killers, the public got nothing but a very small piece of that glory. The bands themselves got something much more tangible - they got boosted record sales. Yup, according to record store HMV every single artist who performed at the Live 8 gig in Hyde park had their albums lifted off the shelves within days. Even the band with the lowest boost in record sales since the gig (Coldplay)  can’t escape this fact as the only reason they’re sales didn’t go up very much was because they weren’t down in the first place! Everyone was already buying their album, they didn’t need to do Live 8 just to buy themselves some extra record sales. I expect they supported it for the same reasons as the rest of us - to have the feeling of collectively doing the right thing without actually haven’t to pay for it.

What a wonderful world we live in.

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

Posted by LiamG at 06:17 PM

A Big Block On My Desk

Writer’s block is trouble. Especially when you sit down to write something. The glaring white screen singes your eyes as you stare at what optimists might call a canvas of possibilities. Yeah well optimists also call getting stuck in a cage full of tigers an ideal once in a life time opportunity to see wildlife up close. “The fools,” I say imagining their demise whilst chuckling to myself. You see writing isn’t as easy as I make it out to be. (Cough, cough.) It is an art that when creating, is fraught with distraction. For example, my gaze has momentarily strayed to the shelf on my left and in particular to the Dogtanian and The Three Muskehounds  DVD. The Complete 26 Episode Series. Dogtanian, as if I have to explain, is the epic 1980’s cartoon show based on Alexandre Dumas’ classic novels. To make the story kid friendly and in what some might call a stroke of genius, the entire cast is made up of dogs and cats. Who could resist watching fur fly in sword duels in France? In fact a strong urge overcomes me to stop writing this very moment and immerse myself in “a battle against the forces of evil with legendary swordsmanship helping Dogtanian escape danger in the nick of time.* (*Taken from the back of the box.)

I must resist temptation though. I must stay focused. I must concentrate. I must . . . My phone is beeping! I swear to Ernest Hemmingway that in the middle of writing that sentence I have just received a text. The irony over powers me. It’s from Tanya and continues from a conversation we we’re having earlier. She says “I’m surely not as talented as you in the writing department but I’m prettier which makes up the difference.” She’s previously admitted to never having read this column before so there’s every chance she could be a great deal more talented in the writing department. She probably never gets writers block either. God Damn It. I text back and thank her because now I’ve got a little bit more to write about. Unfortunately she replies back with “Do not put me in the column or I will be forced to beat you severely upon our next meeting!” As you can see I have decided to call her bluff and possibly face a law suit. So now I’m back to staring back at the computer screen. It’s so easy just to minimize this window and start browsing through music and photo files. In fact I might just do that.

The first file I see is a music recording that I made with Paul “I can’t drive” Winters last week. It’s entitled “The Ballad of Pirate Bill” and it’s a swashbuckling tale told through song. Me and Winters are the new Lennon and McCartney. I write the lyrics and sing them and he writes the music and plays it. We actually did a few studio versions of Pirate Bill’s Ballad but it’s the LIVE recording that stands out because I keep missing my queues for verses and there’s a lot more cries of piratey phrases like “Arrrhh!” and “Pieces of eight!” (You can download the song for free from www.liamgeraghty.com) I suppose I really should try and think of something to write. How can I fully devote my attention to writing this when my would-be arch nemesis is up there in the Vox Pop near the top of this page. See him there with the cheesy smile.

His name is there as Craig O’Connor but his real name is Hank Tree. Look at him there giving some rubbish opinion on Live 8. Sigh. Ok, ok, I’ve been putting off writing for a good few paragraphs so I suppose I better actually start now. In fact that’s it! I feel inspired! I know what I’m going to write about! My writer’s block is cured! Hey it looks like I’m coming suspiciously near the end of the page. What’d ya mean you’re cutting it here? Aw crap!

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

Posted by LiamG at 06:14 PM

July 06, 2005

A Billion Reasons To Hate Summer

I hate summer. It’s been a long decision in the making but I can now confirm that I absolutely loath it. These last few weeks I’ve been thinking about how it’s not actually that bad. I was going to tolerate it at least. Maybe even enjoy it. Fly a kite, eat a choc ice and the like. Summer things. It’ll be great. But then of course the weather kicks in. It gets hotter and hotter and hotter. Too hot. The kite catches fire. The choc ice melts into your hand. It’s an absolutely ridiculous season. What bugs me is the people who spend all of Winter giving out about how cold it is. Then when summer kicks in they come out with "God it’s sweltering out there but sure, we shouldn’t complain." Make up your mind! You can’t have a mouse and an elephant! You can only have one because they don’t mix.
 
 
Then there’s the sudden influx of people rushing out to Garden shops to buy new garden furniture because they forgot to varnish last years wooden deckchairs and now they’ve started to rot. The deckchairs that is. There’s something about garden furniture that unsettles me. Another reason to hate summer. Then there’s the fashion impact. One day you’re strolling around in your long writer’s coat and red scarf and BAM! The sun’s out. Everyone’s wearing shorts and sandals. Where does that leave me? What, prey tell, am I supposed to wear? Well as it happens whilst reading the Irish Times last Saturday I came across a "Dos and Don’ts" guide to summer attire. One of their "Don’ts" was, and I find this astounding, not to wear you’re "groovy Tintin t-shirt." At a guess, I’d estimate less than two percent of the population own such a t-shirt. Even more astounding though is the fact that I have one. A navy blue t-shirt with the adventurous cartoon journalist Tintin and his faithful dog Snowy emblazoned upon it. So now that summer’s here and I try to adapt my style to the season - the bloody national papers are telling me not to! As it happens though t-shirts are another one of my gripes about summer or to be more specific, t-shirts with "witty" slogans written on them. What is going on!?! Summer hits and anyone with a lack of personality is out wearing t-shirt’s screaming things like "I’m in the house like furniture."
 
 
 
Let’s get down to basics here though. The summer is all about the sun. The blazing, searing heat. And what’s so great about that? Nothing! When I stayed with my good friend Marty Beckerman in Washington D.C. last summer I was in awe of how the capital of America still functioned in weather I can only describe as burning. Who loves that kind of weather? People say "Oh it’s a beautiful day to go for a walk" but when they go, not two minutes later are they sweating like a man made of chocolate at Easter. Some might wonder how such a man would have even come to exist let alone sweat but that’s not the point here. The point is that it’s now so hot I have to replace my nice comfy duvet for a thin sheet to deal with the heat. But because of our schizophrenic weather suddenly it might be freezing and there am I with nothing but a sheet! Summer is a ridiculous, preposterous, absurd and unreasonable season. Anyone who disagrees can go to Hell since they like the warm weather so much. Roll on Christmas.
 
 
Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist (pg.6)

Posted by LiamG at 03:41 PM

July 01, 2005

The Dead Zoo

You have to hand it to Charles Darwin. Even now, almost a hundred and twenty five years since his struggle for existence failed, his theory on natural selection is still infuriating religious nuts everywhere. What an age that would have been to live in - the Victorian world. A world of discovery. The closest I’m going to get to it is waiting for me on Merrion Street. In fact a mere two years before Darwin published his findings on evolution, the doors to the National History Museum swung open in the year 1857. More interestingly what lies beyond those doors has scarcely changed a bit. I made my way up a bustling Grafton St. and continued on down to Merrion St. where the grand old building awaited my arrival. The first thing you’ll see upon entering is the awe-inspiring site of the colossal skeleton of a Great Irish Elk flanked by two smaller Elk skeletons on either side. These three Elk are the beginning of what is known as The Dead Zoo. An appropriate name for a museum that has approximately 10,000 animals on display, drawn from collections of over 2,000,000 specimens. These collections have been accumulating for over two centuries.

 

It is here in the museum where the Victorian age lives on. The Dead Zoo is famous for its Victorian cabinet style, which houses one of the world’s finest and fullest collections still to be seen today. Quite amazingly the museum is the oldest purpose-built museum building in Ireland, still used as was originally intended when Dr. Livingston first opened it. There’s something about the place. I prefer to walk around in it during Winter when it’s raining outside and the place is empty apart from the thousands of dead animals staring at you from their cases. I can’t help but think about what sort of chaos would be unleashed if they all suddenly came back to life with a jolt! Elephants, lions, penguins, mice, cobras, wolves and a hundred different breed of spider all waking up from a deep and uncomfortable sleep.

 

Today though, it’s unbearably humid outside and it would appear that every school in Ireland has sent a class on an outing here. Not more than two steps in the door when I’m been followed by two girls from a Dublin school wanting to know where I got my orange All-Star shoes from. They go back to their group with a sigh when I reveal my shoes came from New York. Upstairs in the World Collection my heart skips a beat as a teacher leaning over the railing looking down below at all the glass cases suddenly drops her handbag. It takes a moment to land but instead of the sound of shattered glass I hear a reassuring thud on the wooden floor.

On the very top floor you’re surrounded by all manner of creatures in unique and separate glass jars, preserved for posterity in their glass formaldehyde coffins. Suspended grandly from the ceiling hang the skeletons of a fin whale, found at Bantry Bay in 1862, and a Humpback whale, which was found stranded at Inishcrone in County Sligo in 1893. Possibly my favourite piece though is the Dodo’s skeleton. It stands with the intent of proving it once existed yet if you didn’t keep an eye out for it you’d pass it by. Again.

 

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

Posted by LiamG at 02:40 PM