Skip to main content

A night at the Avett Brother's

I am sure most of you know that I was in London last Wednesday night to see the Avett brothers play at Shepards Bush. I travelled down with my pal Mark, and another guy Jamie and when we arrived in London we met my cousin Caoimhe, Mark's parents and a man named Danny. While first impressions were fabulous, I did not think that I would have such a hilarious night, nor did I expect to come home with a sprained foot!

For myself and Caoimhe it was our first time seeing the Avett brother's live. The show was superb. The band play a variety of instruments, and much to my delight the stage was home to a double bass, a cello etc.... It turns out that both Caoimhe and I are very similar, in life as well as musical taste, and she announced to Mark's dad mid way through a collaboration of the double bass and piano that 'there is nothing better than a man with a large instrument. The bigger the better.' I have never seen someone blush such a shade of scarlet as she did when she realised what she had said.

The others had seen the band before, and felt that this gig was lacking in comparison. I was kind of glad it was my first time to see them because I got completely caught up in the magic and the music.
There were a few unexpected moments in the gig. Mark managed to drop his drink and the liquid hit Caoimhe in the eyeball, and drown the shirt of Danny who was standing in front of him. As he took off his shirt to wring it dry, he dropped his beer. It landed with such a plonk that about 20 people turned around to him standing there with his shirt off, at one of the quietest, moments of the concert. I tried to keep my laughter in but all I could hear was Mark's Da say 'Taps aff then', which just set me off. It reminded me of being at mass on a Sunday morning when you thought of something funny and couldn't laugh, but your shoulders gave you away.

As Caoimhe had predicted, Mark ended up coming back to her house with us where we opened up a couple of bottles of wine. (Not a wise idea, that wine). Caoimhe had offered to make my pal Tony breakfast at 8am before he went to the airport (turns out they are neighbours), but as you can imagine, as Mark had predicted, that didn't happen either. Sorry Tony.  The following morning was bizarre. As he was plonked into the spare room with me,  I was treated to Mark's rendition of the top 100 hymns according on Youtube while I was trying to sleep through my hangover. When hunger hit I went to wake Caoimhe who was also a little under the weather. She followed my back in to the spare room, hoisted herself on the bed and next thing we know the bed has collapsed and my foot is wedged between her arse and the bed frame. When we retold this story to Paddy (omitting that there had also been a Mark on the bed) his response was 'sure there was enough weight on it before she ever sat on it.' Thank you Da for the ego boost!

Caoimhe and I discovered that we have the same hangover cure (Noreen, I swear I did not teach her this when I was babysitting), mash, gravy and breaded chicken. She is more nuggets, I am more chicken supreme but I guess that is an age thing. Anyhoo our hunt for food let us to a wetherspoons. It wasn't great but a gourmet meal would have been wasted on us.  Eventually we went into town to find Mark's intended room mate Jamie (who was busy lighting candles for us in a church he found), and a couple of Guinness and many stories about the fairies later, we were ready to get going back to Scotland.

I came away for the trip very tired, and very sore but very content. I laughed so much over such a short space of time, proper laughter too. It was so great to spend some time with Caoimhe though there is a handful of Scotsmen who are insisting she comes to Glasgow and not Aberdeen for her next visit north!




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

12 years and counting....

It is that time of the year again, my sister's anniversary. 12 years since we bid her farewell.
Well, tomorrow is her anniversary but I am having a very lazy morning and as a result I am writing this today.

For the past 11 years, the entire month of November has been a struggle for me.
In the beginning it was a raw struggle. Every single day from the 10th (her birthday) to the 29th (her anniversary) was like a hot blade slicing through my heart.
I think it is because the loneliness of not having her with us to celebrate her birthday is intensified by the fact that her anniversary is so close, and there is an awareness and an emotional surge in the three weeks between that just lingers in my subconscious.
Now, I definitely do become very low for those three weeks, but it is much easier to bounce out of it as we approach the anniversary and I realise that my irrationality of the last three weeks was simply bottled up emotion from the remaining 49 weeks of the year.

This year was a t…

The day I got a little sister.

Last night, as I got the bus home from work, I got really choked up as the clock turned midnight. Perhaps because I'd been checking product dates all day, I was painfully aware of what date I was stepping into, or perhaps because I had just returned from a trip to Ireland I was painfully aware of it all. I don't know. It's not important.

When I went to bed last night, I started to think about my sister a little more. A lot more. I remember the day she was born. Isn't that weird? I was only 3 years old but I remember. Mam was on the phone from the hospital to Da, and he asked my brother and I if we wanted to speak to our mammy. Naturally we both jumped at the chance to say hi. Our telephone at the time was in the hallway and was a few feet from the ground, so my brother and I had to stand on a chair to speak into it. As the eldest I went first and gushed and oohed as I thought was appropriate. I hopped off my chair and gave the floor to my brother. I was unprepared for…

Let's talk about mental health

I must admit I am a little bit nervous about writing this blog today.
I am afraid that I will get a little too emotional when writing about a topic that is very close to my heart.
I will apologise now for if I ramble or get lost in a stream of consciousness. I hope you can make sense of what I am about to write.

This week, another life was lost to the tragedy that is suicide. I should correct myself, a famous life was lost to suicide. I have no doubt that this week, many families around the world are grieving and trying to figure out why one of their own has taken their own life.

The reason that I want to write this post is simply down to the number of horrible and ignorant comments that I have read on social media about Chester Bennington's death. For me, it highlighted the lack of understanding of mental health in this day and age.

I'm going to take you back on a wee journey with me and tell you why this is such a personal topic and why I feel that it needs to be spoken abou…