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Rise Like Lions! is great new blog which is following events in Ireland closely, in terms of the response of the people to the government/IMF austerity plans.

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In an article way back in April, when the IMF was still a bogey man the government used to terrify the unions, I wrote a quick piece on an auction taking place at the famous Whyte’s on Molesworth Street. On sale at that auction was a 1929/ ’30 Free State League winners medal- won that year by Bohemian FC.

So, when I heard the below picture was on sale at an auction in Dalymount with all proceeds went to Bohemian FC, my ears pricked up. What better way to satisfy three of my favourite things; Bohemians, history and photography than by buying this. I may have paid a little more than I thought I planned to for it but I myself think it was worth every penny.

Words cannot describe how chuffed I am to have this in my possession (click for larger image)

You may not be able to buy a clubs history, but you can hold onto a little bit of it, and thats what I feel like now. I don’t really feel like I own this picture, indeed, when Bohemians iron out this little blip it our history like I’m sure we will, I’ll most likely donate this picture to the club. Or maybe that’s just my optimism, hoping that the torrid time we’re going through is just a blip. But what else do we have to hold onto?

Autograph of J. McCarthy (fourth from left in main picture)

I’ll be getting it framed and mounted in the near future. When I get that done, I’ll check back in here, and give you some history behind a great era in Bohemians history, not unlike the one just passed. A bit of trivia before I go; the shed- like structure in the background are the old dressing rooms. Because of the corrugated iron on the roof, the structure got the nickname “The Hut,” now the name of the pre-game drinking hole in Phibsborough favoured by many a Bohs fan.

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Italia ’90 came just too early for me, and while I still have recollections of it, most of them more than likely made up as they are far too glorious for any six year old to have experienced. So, USA ’94 was more within my grasp and while I wasn’t a football loving child (oh how my ways have changed,) it was hard not to get caught up in the fever pitch that surrounded a national event like Ireland playing in the World Cup. Streets empty during games and lined with Olé Óle Olé chanting, pint swilling headcases after them.  Audacious thieves made a fortune ram- raiding shops during the games, safe in the knowlege their local Gardaí were most likely huddled around a portable tv in the station, blissfully unawares to the happenings in the outside world. The glory of Italia ’90 was impossible to recreate but the reactions to beating Italy and drawing with Norway were the same. Pure unadulterated lunacy.

Soccerball World Cup mascot, 1994

The football sure as hell wasn’t beautiful. The mind truly boggles to think that Ireland beat Italy with a team consisting of five defenders, two defensive midfielders and a man by the name of Tommy Coyne up front. But we did win, Ray Houghton netting in the eleventh minute before eloping on a mad run, tumbling like a toddler and emitting screams that put Marco Tardelli to shame.

Celebrations were short lived as Jack Charlton sent out the same side against Mexico and they were duly spanked 2-1. And still, we somehow managed to qualify for the second round by playing out a dull encounter against Norway that ended 0-0. Exciting stuff, the four teams in the group finishing on four points,  Ireland scraping through only due to their win against Italy.  Three games, two goals scored and two conceeded. You really do look back at these things with rose tinted glasses as reading that statistic shows it was about as far from total football as our Monday night kickabouts. But these were different times, Roy Keane was still a young man, we had squad members like Alan Kernaghan, Alan McLoughlin and John Sheridan and Gary Kelly was still a player with “great potential for the future.” We were tonked 2-0 in the next round and the dream was over.

Why am I harping on about all this you may be (or more than likely aren’t) wondering. Well, digging in the attic last week I came across a collection of cards Kellogs had produced for the occasion. You got free stuff in your cereal those days, generally useless plastic toys or reflectors for the spokes of your bike, but they came up trumps with these. I’m missing Bonner, Babb, Coyne, Eddie McGoldrick (remember him?!) and John Aldridge; Terry Phelan has lost his head. Anyone out there with swapsies?

The Kellogs freebies from USA '94, six shy of the full squad!

Gary Kelly; His profile says he has "great potential" and he hadn't won the first of his 51 caps yet

Ex- Bohs, and the only person in the world to have an All Ireland GAA medal for football and a FA Cup winners medal, Kevin Moran

The man who played 88 times for Ireland and scored 19 goals despite not having a drop of Irish blood in him- Tony Cascarino

Anyone who can provide the missing cards mentioned above, please get in touch- I’d love to get a picture of the full squad… Comment on here or e-mail me at ci_murray@hotmail.com …

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Unless you’re a newcomer to CHTM, you’ll know that on one Sunday a month the three of us, in the company of a small group of friends head out on a pub crawl, with pubs selected by one member of our troop but not revealed until we’re standing outside the door.

So, Halloween evening, and it was pubcrawl time again. This week, the pubs were selected by JFlood, the only person outside of the CHTM trio to have ventured to pick a route so far. The starting point was Charlemont Luas stop, not far from Ranelagh, so we had a fair idea what side of the city we were headed for. Four thirty was the alotted meet up, and we didn’t have far to go to the first stop, The Barge on Charlemont Street.

I’ve been told that on a warm Summers day, there’s nowhere like the place, getting your pint from the bar and then heading out to sit by the canal and enjoy it. No such luck today, four thirty, Halloween afternoon, dark and dreary Dublin. Not inside The Barge though, a large airy bar split into three levels, the ground floor, a mezzanine area and the second story.  A beautiful place to look at inside, and spotless throughout; I was quite taken with the place on first impressions. What I wasn’t mad about was that most of the trade was taken up by a Sunday lunch crowd. Now this isn’t an offence in itself, but I’m not crazy on the idea of having a few scoops somewhere in the knowledge that there’s a family tucking into dinner beside me. The food looked and smelled great, but it was the Guinness we were here for. We took up position in an excellent little snug hidden upstairs with a couch and two arm-chairs squeezed into it and hit the bar to be welcomed by the news that the barman would drop down our pints; a nice touch.  The pint, at €4.40 went down well- they obviously take pride in their presentation, as unlike a lot of places that do food, the glasses were spotless and the pint looked perfect. I quite liked this place, it was nice to be tucked away from the hustle and bustle, with the barman down to us after a few minutes asking if we wanted another. But, we were only staying for one so had to make our apologies.

The Barge Bar by Bill in DC, from Flickr

As expected, JFlood led us yet again away from our comfort zone of the city centre. His previous pubcrawls had taken us around The Liberties (my favourite pubcrawl yet by far) and Rathmines so it didn’t suprise me when we headed up Ranelagh Road.

The next pub was one I don’t think half of our group had ever set eyes on before, never mind set foot in. Hidden away on Mount Pleasant, behind the new school on Ranelagh Road and with rows of neighbouring on either side, The Hill is reminiscent, situation wise at least, of Gravediggers in Glasnevin- hidden away in  residential area. But as often the case, a hidden pub can be a hidden gem and such is the case for The Hill. A smashing looking bar inside and out, this place looks like its been here since time began; they’ve maintained the Victorian stylings down through the years, and is the kind of pub that feels like its been passed down through generations. A quick look in the Irish Times archive shows it was last on auction in 1999 so that dispels that notion.

We got a few inquisitive looks as we entered, a definite sign of a locals bar, but thats to be expected as the bar lies off the beaten track. The barman again offered to bring the pints down and we sat ourselves in a raised seating area up the back, under the telly. And whilst Liverpool were on, and there were a few regulars watching, the volume wasn’t pumped up as it would normally be and we had no problem talking over it. Not too far away from Rover’s heartland of Miltown here so myself and DFallon exchanged a few nods at the expense of the regulars nattering about their lifting of the LOI trophy on Friday night. It did suprise me when one of them let a roar out of him when Liverpool scored with a few minutes to go- in Rovers absence from Miltown, he had obviously adopted an English club… Again though, a beautiful pub.

The Hill, Ranelagh. Pic by Hellplex, from Flickr

Obviously extended into one of the houses next door, the pub seems a lot larger inside than it does out. The pints arrived, and at €4.15 certainly weren’t to be sniffed at; the pint of the night for me. Conversation flowed in this place, and where we normally end up ranting about Michael Collins towards the end of our monthly pubcrawl, he was a target of out venom in our second pub here, (well, more the Neil Jordan film about him. A car bomb? In Dublin Castle? Now there’s historical revisionism.) Nice warm bar, interesting surroundings, great pint and a spotless jacks led this to be pub (as well as pint) of the night for me.

So back into the cold and dark and onwards to our next stop, Russell’s in Ranelagh village. Another eatery this, but as the evening was getting their wasn’t too many around. An odd place this, for while in was clean and tastefully decorated, it just lacked a certain something- there wasn’t much on the walls to distinguish what kind of a crowd it draws; normally you have a few pictures, snaps of locals or whatever. Russell’s? Nothing that we could see. According to one of the lads, its a big rugby pub, but you wouldn’t know it apart from the ads on the front doors. The pint came in at €4.40 and wasn’t too bad, less care for the presentation here though as two of the four pints were over-filled, while not a mortal sin, its something I know the Guinness quality control team frown upon.

Russells of Ranelagh from YPYounge.ie

Where the first two pubs oozed character, both I would say due mainly to their locations (The Barge right next to a lock and The Hill looking like it was just dropped into a row of houses by accident, I just couldn’t take to this place- it felt more restaurant or bisto than bar, and I don’t think any of us felt too comfortable here. Upstairs looked great, and the smoking area is out on a balcony which is a nice touch but we didn’t fancy the cold so we stayed inside, again up under a telly at the back of the bar.

So onwards to Smyths, just down the road, but not before a quick stop in the Ranelagh chipper and bags of chips all round here. Suprising to see the McDonalds on the corner closed; you’d think they at least would weather the recession- apparently not. Anyway, into Smyths, quite a nice spot,  most of the tables inside occupied, and the ones that weren’t had glasses on them, suggesting a busy evening. With the football just over, I’d presume it was that. Up at the bar I ran into an ex- workmate of mine, a retired civil servant and she swears by this place; I trust her judgement.

Smyths of Ranelagh

As I said, there was a decent crowd in here, so we made our way out to the smoking area. Wood panelled, well heated with a flatscreen showing La Liga, we were all happy here. There are Trinity residences around the corner and what we presume were some of the residents, most of whom embraced the halloween spirit and were wearing fancy dress, took up most of the area, but we found a nice little corner right under a heater. The pint, at €4.45 was the business, well presented, a decent head and tasted great; or my belly may just have been happy from the bag of chips ten minutes earlier. One of the lads definitely got costume of the night approval from CHTM anyways as Super Mario walked past, moustache specially grown for the occasion. Legend. We stayed for a couple here, comfortable as we were, and Smyth’s is definitely a spot I’d have no qualms about coming back to.

I’ll be honest and say this is where it starts to get hazy. JFlood had the next spot picked, McSorley’s, only a few doors down. Chris, my old workmate had told me to head up there either way, recommending it as a great spot. And it was a great spot, though not necessarily my kind of spot. The barman was dead-on, dressed in the garb of the local secondary school, we knocked a bit of craic out of the American football on the telly that nobody seemed to be watching except him.

McSorleys, Ranelagh. from their Facebook

As I said, a nice place, candle lit tables lined the walls, and several of them were occupied. Where Smyth’s seemed to be a youger crowd, McSorley’s came across as more of a thirty- something spot.  They do food, and I’d say the place gets busy on a Friday and Saturday night (its a late bar and so stays open until two o’clock at weekends) but tonight was just a steady stream of custom so we nabbed ourselves a high table close to the bar. Pints were €4.45 and there were no complaints.

We did visit one more pub, Birchall’s but I’d be doing it an injustice to try and review it as I simply can’t remember a thing about the place other than that the pints were somewhere around the €4.40 mark and were fine. And I’m sorry, thats all I remember, not from the drink, honestly. Myself and DFallon were sober enough to make our way back to the Luas stop, somehow befriend the drunkest woman in the world (by befriend, I mean she came up and started talking to us before lying down on the platform.) So there you are, six pubs, five that I remember. Standout of the night though had to be The Hill. But for it’s Rovers associations, it’d be perfect.

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…but it is a love song because, I love my people”

Maser/Damien Dempsey on the ball once more. The They Are Us screenprint upstairs reminding me that Greed Is The Knife rings truer each day. These words come from Dublin Town, perhaps the first Dempsey tune I heard.

Are we going to be good forever?

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Like, seriously LOL.

Tip of the hat in the direction of Fake Street, on Facebook.

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I don’t think I have to say anything here other than… The Rubber Bandits. In Temple Bar. Brilliant.

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Well done MadamK, you’ve done it again.

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It’s a rare occurence these days that I stay in Dublin on a Saturday night and am still able to get up bright and early on the Sunday morning. Having spent yesterday in a dark basement singing/ screeching with a guitar strapped to my back,  drinking someone elses beer (cheers Chris lad,) I decided to take a stroll around the city and take a few pictures, it being a lovely morning and all. A guesstimate on Google Maps afterwards worked out at 7.8 kilometres. Not bad for a mornings work.

Dublin on a sunny Sunday morning. Nowhere in the world comes close.

All the threat of floods, gale force winds and rain seem to be out by a day or so, there was no sign of it on my adventures…

Hadn't seen these before, up there with the new Bertie ones.

Political stickers are making a resurgence in Dublin, it makes for a change, lampposts that were once covered in stickers from obscure Eastern European Ultras groups now sport piss-takes of Bertie, Brian Cowen and the rest…

 

I love this one, from around the back of Shebeen Chic.

(more…)

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Twatter.

I don’t have a Twitter. Neither does Come Here To Me! actually. I don’t really ‘get’ it.

I’ve been loving the page of government T.D Paul Gogarty (Yes, that would be ‘f*ck you Deputy Stagg’ Paul Gogarty) lately however. For the last couple of days, he’s been engaging in a debate with students from the Free Education for Everyone campaign over events at the Department of Finance and all sorts of other things that take his fancy.

FEEE . You forgot the word ‘eejits’ at the end.

friend of the students, but not FEEE muppets who tried to get me to illegally interfere in Garda investigation lol

Oddly, Gogarty even came out in support of the Public Order Unit who have been the subject of over a dozen complaints to the Garda Ombudsman.

Send him a tweet. You’ll get one back. You can follow Gogarty over here.

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Dropping into a pub like this (by which I mean any pub in Temple Bar) is always a risk. It’s no lie to say that you’d be very hard pushed to find a non- tourist frequenting them, Foggy Dew aside, and maybe that’s for a good reason. So, after a long day of work for me, and a hard days sticking it to the man for DFallon and mate Ois, we decided to head somewhere we’d never been before, and drink a pint to friends injured during Wednesday’s madness.

The Auld Dub

DFallon suggested The Auld Dub, and I agreed, having a mate that works there and being curious as to how the place fares up. The fare was up alright, a pint of Guinness costing €4.85, a good 60c dearer than Brogan’s only five minute walk away. No doubt they sell a good many pints at that price, though we wondered how many half pints of it the floor staff have to pick up at the end of the night. (Its always funny to see someone who has never drank Guinness before order a pint of it, take one taste and then ask for a Heineken instead, not being elitist in the slightest, its more a nod to the advertising power of Diageo; GUINNESS IN IRELAND IS THE BEST THING EVER.)

But anyways, the pub. Suprisingly un-kitsch for a touristy spot, the place looks great inside, a horseshoe bar dominating the interior with a staircase on either side, one up and one down to the (almost spotless, apart fron the “Love United, Hate Glazer” stickers) jacks. Pictures of visitors line the walls, and beside our table, a frame with a dozen or so of the Arthur’s Day beermats from last year takes pride of palce. The pint soured very quickly, I’m not sure why- it wasn’t that we were drinking slowly or anything, but by the time I got to the end of mine, I could have taken it or left it to be honest. So we didn’t stay long and decided to wander down and check out the banners on the Ha’penny and Millenium Bridges instead.

Just as we were getting ready to go, some live music started, a one-man-band idea, one bloke banging away on his guitar, everything from The Virgin Prunes to Green Day to Sting (Roxanne, and a group of what sounded like Swedish blokes seemed delighted, taking the oppurtunity to play the drinking game of the same name.)

Leaving the pub and heading out into the night, we stopped to have a gander at the mystery plaque on the ground outside. Ois had asked the barman if he knew the story behind it but alas, the mystery goes on…

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Some of you may remember me uploading this leaflet handed out to students on an anti-fees demonstration in 2008.

Shocking as that was, XXI Nightclub seemed hellbent on going one better. This image is from photographer Neil Frazer who was at the ‘Education not Emigration’ rally yesterday.

“Quote CLUNGE for free entry”

Morons.

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