the craic was ninety

what a lovely couple of days. Friday night I went to see old mates Epicure launch their new album at Karova. Quality supports in the shape of the Hello Morning and Matheson made for a great night alt country tinged rock. The pub was full of the band's friends and family and lots of familiar happy faces. As the band finished and the door charge came off the place was besieged by goths, who were making the most of Halloween and leaving the house and living it up secure in the fact most people thought they were in costume for some party or another.

Saturday was our friend Obie's wedding to the lovely Renae. The ceremony was held in the old Loreto chapel, a stunning looking little church. Jacinta and McCabe provided a beautiful guitar and harp soundtrack and the bride was scarily late (35 minutes, you could see Obie shitting bricks). We then choofed off to the reception at Portico. Cue lots of fingerfood, red wine and later whiskey. The band was a scratch band led by McCabe and composed of various guests at various points of the evening. Yours truly did Rainy night in Soho and Folsom Prison Blues. Highlights were a massed rendition of Dublin in the rare oul times (for the groom's mam) and a twenty minute guitar wigout through the Stone's Satisfaction. The dancefloor was packed all night and every time Obie was pressganged into playing a couple the hysteria increased markedly. Showing some sense, Lize and I opted not to go out afterwards and headed home at 12.30 snatching a burger on the way.

Sunday at midday I went to Obie's for the catch up BBQ before the happy couple headed off on honeymoon. They had a marquee set up with a bouncy castle for the kids with shitloads of yummy sausages and fruit punch. One thing led to another and some rum became involved somehow and the day began to develop a pleasant glow. At 3.30 I headed up the lake where the final stages of Tristan the DJ's bucks weekend were taking place. I'd had to give the previous night a miss due to the wedding committments so it was good to catch up with the lad. The tales from the previous day came across like one of Irvine Welsh's more lurid tomes and I was quietly relieved I couldn't make it. I'm a bit old for those antics these days. More BBQ, more rum and some firecrackers rounded off a pretty splendid day and Lize and Squitter came and rescued me around 7.