Post 473 - Sex, Drugs & Leprechauns; The Great Irish Adventure begins.

From my fly-infested flat at Aberdeen harbour; to the squallor of the farm cottage in Bridge Of Don; to the building site in Kittybrewster (via a short stay in Orchard Street); to the flat near Asda Garthdee; To Geneva, Switzerland; To Fraserburgh; to co-habiting with a Nigerian prostitute in the Bridge Of Don again; to the veritable old folk's home of a tower block in Raeden; to seagull central in Ferryhill; to the luxury pad in Kincorth; I've certainly moved house a lot since I started writing this blog in 2002. And would you believe it, as someone who updates their Facebook location as often as most people update their status, since the last flurry of activity on this blog in June, I've gone and upped sticks again. This time I've done a bit more than flit a few short miles across Aberdeen though, in fact I packed up as many of my belongings that would fit into my tiny Ford Ka (selling, donating or binning the rest), and relocated to Dublin, Ireland. I've been here two weeks and currently reside in a neighbourhood called Cabra, which may or may not be rough as fuck, I haven't quite figured it out yet. It does appear to be home to quite a number of tracksuit-wearing, bicycle-riding neds (or "knackers" as they're known here), but I've wandered around it quite a lot so far and haven't been stabbed or anything yet, so so far so good. In fact I quite like the place, it has everything I need (pub, bookies, off-licence, Domino's pizza) so I'd say I'm fairly well set. And the city? I fell in love with it straight away. Dublin is a fantastic city and I implore you to visit if you haven't.

As the old Irish song goes "In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty, I first laid my eyes on sweet Molly Malone". Being that I left the hallowed shores of my native Scotland due to falling in love with one such Dublin girl, I can't possibly comment on the rest of Dublin's female population (though I have seen the statue of Molly Malone near Grafton Street and that bitch is SMOKIN'!). I am however giddily happy with the one I'm with. Corny as it sounds, I really truly believe that after years of Miss Wrongs I may have actually found Miss Right. Yes, OK, stop making puke noises at the back. Just humour me OK, I'm in love.

So. City? Great. Relationship? Great. Job? Well.... not quite so great. Jacking in a well paying job in the veritable cash-dispenser that is Aberdeen's Oil and Gas industry to come and live in a country which is in a huge recession and suffering badly in the midst of this Euro crisis that I don't even pretend to understand is the kind of reckless thing I like to do that keeps my parents awake at night. Let's not mince our words here; in Dublin there is no money and there are no jobs. Legend has it that openings for burger-flippers in McDonalds recently attracted applications from qualified architects. I myself applied for a job under the golden arches just last week... and was rejected. "At McDonalds we have a very stringent recruitment process" said the rejection email I received. Stringent recruitment process? Do me a favour. I've seen the sorts of troglodytes who drool into McDonalds food, in between scratching their arseholes and looking surly and disinterested. I saw a girl recently utterly defeated by the McFlurry machine, the operation of which requires pressing a button to dispense the chocolate pieces into the tub of ice-cream and then pressing the "mix" button. Astrophysics this is not, however after going through their "stringent recruitment process" in the form of the retard-proof online application questionnaire, McDonalds have deemed me unfit to take an order for a Big Mac meal and press the button on the till marked "Big Mac meal", and so my search goes on.

And so, dear reader, welcome to the Sex, Drugs & Leprechauns; The Great Irish Adventure. I shall be regaling you with stories from the Emerald Isle, including hilarious tales of my poverty and rejection from fast food jobs, brushes with the local "knackers" (two of whom I watched get arrested today for throwing a bottle of Coke, and another almost get run over while drunkenly carrying home the drainpipes he'd quite obviously just stolen for scrap metal) and tales from inside some of Dublin's less-salubrious drinking establishments (of which there are many). Molly Malone may have cried cockles and mussels - me, I'm just hoping I don't flounder in the big city.

Song currently stuck in my head - "What A Waster" by The Libertines
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