Arrived home last night and still trying to acclimatise. Bryan came back with us. He's off college until the start of February even though he has to pop down next week to do a couple of exams. It'll be good to have him home for a little while. The road back was fantastic, it's nearly all motorway now and the bulk of the trip (Jack Lynch tunnel to the Red Cow roundabout) was covered in two hours and twenty minutes. Now that's what I call roads! Once we had unloaded the gear, I hauled ass up to "Auntie Valerie's" to rescue CJ who was overjoyed to see me. She kicked up a ferocious racket in the car on the way home and she's still a bit disoriented.

Christmas was uneventful and passed peacefully enough. I was trying to get around to all the things I had promised I'd do but as ever, there's a few things I never got around to doing. Mum and Dad were both sick, suffering from heavy colds and taking enough pills to make them rattle when they moved. Dad was pretty zoned out at times but it eased the symptoms. I just hope that when the cold eases up, he'll get back to normal. I got him a couple of great books about subjects he cares deeply about: Cork humour and Jack Lynch.

Arrived in Cork yesterday, having put CJ into "Auntie Valerie's" yesterday. She was not happy, a fact she wasn't exactly shy about telling me. Got to Cork in good time and went to see Mum and Dad for a while, then we went out to Bryan's house to see the "student accomodation" which we were paying for. Suffice to say I think I'm being screwed but Bryan is very happy with the place. It's so grimy, I'm convinced the rats wear overalls. We took him out for a meal and had a nice bite to eat in one of the local pubs.

By the way, got a call from Stephen to say he went into the office of that welsher this morning demanding payment for Friday night. After she tried to fob him off with the promise of a cheque, he stood his ground until he finally got paid. In cash. Which he counted out right there in front of her and whoever happened to be passing through the lobby. His closing point to me was that he's pretty sure they'll find it difficult getting a DJ for next year's party, should the cheap bastards cough up enough to hold one.

In case I haven't mentioned it, I hate the GAA. What happened last night though, while hardly their fault only adds to that feeling.

I was supposed to be doing the after-band gig in Bray again. That's a fun one. The Abba tribute band get the crowd warmed up and I pick up the pieces. Sweet. At the last minute however, Stephen asked me to take a Christmas party for an investment company. Unfortunately, it's in one of the function rooms at Bigot Central (aka Croke Park).

While parking was the best ever (literally outside the door of the function room under the stand), the rest of the evening was best forgotten, This crowd got very drunk very fast and were well gone by the time the boss got to his feet for the speeches. This oration cosisted of the usual "You've all done very well" platitudes punctuated by instructions to somebody called Tony to shut up. It was like a catch phrase only not funny. Then he moved on to the spot prizes. Such generosity! There was a top prize of a TV, which they probably picked up in Lidl. A voucher for HMV was another highlight. I have no doubt that the lucky recipient will enjoy spending the €20, perhaps in the bargain bin.

While the object of Christmas parties is to get everyone on the dancefloor, different tastes and age groups have to be satisfied so it's a delicate balance and it takes a half hour or so to read the crowd well enough. However, all I got was "that's too old", "that's too girly", "have you any new stuff?" "how about some rock n' roll?" Eventually I got fed up with them and played any old shite they asked for. As someone once said, "don't try to educate 'em, entertain 'em."

At the end of the night, I loaded the gear into the car (as previously mentioned, it was just outside the door) and approached the girl in charge for my fee. "I didn't know I was supposed to pay you." You think? I smell a problem here. After what had been a frustrating night for me, I kinda lost it a bit and very crossly told her that this was just not acceptable. She bloody well knew she'd have to pay me the balance of what was owed. "But I don't have the money on me," she claimed. "Tell you what, I'll have someone post you a cheque on Monday." Well that was the final straw. "IF (and I stress the "IF") you post a cheque on Monday, I won't get paid until after Christmas," I explained as if to a backward child. There was no more to be said, so I just turned and walked out. Straight away, I sent a text to Stephen who said he'd sort it on Monday. He's just as mad as I am because he was very clear in his dealings with this one.  

Busy night last night. Had a gig in a restaurant in Suffolk Street in Dublin - right in the middle of the busy shopping district with its labyrinthne streets and limited parking. First job was to find the damned place. It was in a street which barred access to private cars. Buses and taxis only. Great. Had to park in a car park miles away and walk back to find out if there was a back way in. (I had phoned the restaurant earlier in the day to make such and enquiry and received no help whatsoever from whatever foreign minion who answered the phone. Honestly, who gives these people visas?) Met a very sympathetic lady owner/manager who gave me a go-fer with a trolley and the back alley through which I could bring the gear. It was a mugger's paradise and I didn't fancy making several trips out there at 2am to re-load. However, once I got unloaded and parked in a safer location (Chatham Street - about a half mile away), all was better. Lily, the manager lady even got her chef to cook up a steak by way of smoothing over the earlier difficulties.

The gig went well, once all the speeches and stuff were over. It was a karaoke and by the time they got into it, they were well oiled and up for anything.

Getting out was easier. Parking in the street outside (even a restricted street) at 1:30am was no sweat and it only took five minutes to load up and get the hell out of there.

This morning, I learned that I would be doing a gig in bigot central (Croke Park) instead of the one I was scheduled to do in Bray. Oh well, think of the money!

Mood:  not sure

Finished work yesterday for the year. Now to the serious business of getting Christmas out of the way. I have a few gigs to do with three in the next three nights. A bit of a slog but since I'm on hols, it shouldn't be too much bother.

I'm a bit bothered about tonight. Can't quite put my finger on it but there's something causing me concern and I'll be happier once this one is out of the way.

Had the unusual experience of going to Kelly's at 10:30am to see United play in the semi final of the World Club Cup (or whatever the hell it's called) from Japan. Straightforward victory over Gamba Osaka. United were 2-0 up and comfortable but a flurry of goals - 6 in the last 16 mins - gave an unreal feel to it. It finished 5-3 thanks to some slack marking and generous refereeing. Funny sort of crowd in the pub at that hour of the morning. A couple of United fans, an indifferent barman and a well-oiled barfly with no clue whatsoever as to what was going on and a blissful ignorance of football in general. Harmless old codger but a bit annoying with some of the comments. He should have been a blonde.

Did a house warming last night down in Naas. What a house! It was colossal. A massive place with a living room about the size of a hotel lobby. Before I started, there was a very nice girl playing piano and as the buzz of the guests increased, she was being drowned out. I was enjoying her performance however and bombarded her with requests for my favourite pieces. She was delighted to oblige for her appreciaive audience of one. Even when I had done all my sound checks, I asked her if she'd play the Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. She said she'd already played it, but then smiled sweetly and said she'd play it again.

On Friday, I had a gig in Bray following the Abba tribute band. The crowd was nicely warmed up by Ellen and co. Nice easy Friday night, even if it did have a late finish.

Mood:  special

Had a great show on the radio on Sunday. Lots of drop-ins from 80s icons (Iva Davies, Geoff Downes, Bobby Gee, a great MP3 greeting from Nik Kershaw and Katrina singing Happy Birthday) and did a bit of my favourite music too.

This idea I have of buying my own presents works very well. I see something I like, buy it and give to Imelda. She fields calls from family and friends "What am I going to get Ken for his birthday?" distributes the pressies which are then paid for and I get exactly what I like. This year's haul included a DVD box set, Mike Oldfield CD, iPod docking station and of course, an iPod. his is the one I'd bought a couple of months ago and spent a whole lot of time putting everthing I could find onto it making it ready to go. Birthdays are easy.

Roll on Christmas.

Mood:  don't ask

Ever have one of those days when you think someone's trying to tell you something? Yesterday was just one such day. Feeling a mite peckish, I went into a shop to get a breakfast roll. The queue was almost out the door and the ATM was out of commission too. The next place I went into didn't have any food left. At lunchtime, I couldn't get into the carpark of the little shopping centre where we were meeting up, the alternative venue was similiarly jammed, so I had to make do with a sandwich in the car.

Stephen had called on Thursday night with a nice long list of gigs for me over the next week or two, beginning with a local event in Swords. However, he neglected to tell me that this private Christmas party for the local DHL branch was a Karaoke! It took a desperate call to Imelda to get the monitor and laptop delivered over to the venue. In the end, it was a great gig. The quality of the singing wasn't great, but there was a terrific enthusiasm about them. Good job it wasn't the Carlow branch!

Mood:  happy

I've been a bit extravagant lately, partly due to the injection of cash into the family coffers from all the gigs I've been doing. I know it's not going to last so I'm treating every gig like it's going to be the last one I ever do. As a result of this work ethic, I've been known to drop everything and rush out the door on a minute's notice.

Such was the case last Friday when I got a call from Stephen at 7:45pm to go do a karaoke at the Dun Laoghaire yacht club that evening. (You sure you don't want to wait another hour before ringing me Stephen? It's not like I had any plans...) Anyway, I threw the gear into the car and high-tailed it over to Kingstown, not entirely certain which yacht club was the right one. I mean, it's not as if there are that many yacht clubs over there, right? Wrong! It took me three goes to find the right one, during which time I encountered many a Hooray Henry and upper class twit in my search for the correct venue. When I did finally locate it, it was the one nearest the pier (I figured that it would most likely be down near the water, what with it being a yacht club and all). And by happy coincidence, I found myself parking about five metres from the very spot where I parked when I met up with Bas and Erik on the Monday of their visit.

The gig itself was a doddle. It was to provide entertainment for the revellers at the Flying Fifteen dinner. As they were all blissfully squiffed on G&Ts, Pimms and Bolly, I could see that violence was probably not on the agenda. Then, the speeches started. That was good for an hour or so which meant I didn’t actually get going until about 11:30. Since my finishing up time was 12:30, it was a very easy night. Singers were a bit thin on the ground, so I tried a few 70s disco tunes and this got a few punters on the dance floor so they can’t complain they didn’t get some entertainment for their money. And if you’d told me at 7:30 on that Friday that within five hours, I’d have a handy few Euros in my back pocket, I might not have believed you.

The upshot of this is that my spending power has increased significantly and I’m investing in a few luxuries. “Man Toys” if you will. The latest additions to my treasure chest are a SatNav which I bought from a guy at work (haven’t figured out how to work it yet) and a DAB radio which Imelda is picking up for me today. I’m a man of simple tastes, just give me my Man Toys.

It’s always an encouraging sign when the punters are just settling in for a nice evening at a party and they’re humming along to the “incidental” music I play at the start of the gig. Tonight I’m in Clontarf doing a 70^th birthday bash for some old dear and her extended family. As long as no-one starts a fight over the last peppermint drop, I’m in for a cushy night. Right now, I’m playing some gentle easy listening tracks from a double CD called “Truly Unforgettable”. Louis Armstrong, Nat King Cole, Tommy Edwards, that sort of thing and people at nearby tables are singing along and tapping their tables in time to the music. Handy. It’s a karaoke gig so I expect Johnny Mathis and Frank Sinatra will get their usual pounding.

United crushed Stoke 5-0 earlier in the day so as you can imagine, the mood is good. Kev came over to Kelly’s and he drove me up to Argos afterwards. I need a new set of headphones (lost the other pair, don’t know where, could have been in Apache territory a couple of weeks ago, I’m not going back!) and they also have a special offer on an iPod docking station. My devilish plan to have docking stations positioned all around the house is taking shape. This one is ideal for the bedroom and I already have one for the kitchen/dining room for occasions when my self-imposed banishment from the TV room confines me to the secondary area. (I really have to get that garage conversion I’ve been promising myself. Then, I can get the media room I’ve always wanted. Something along the same lines as Ray Smyth’s “Den of Paradise”.)

Bas and Erik met up in Eindhoven this afternoon to watch the Irish rugby team get their arses handed to them by the All Blacks. They’ve become quite the Hibernophiles, commenting on the Guinness in the Irish bar as I guided them through the finer points of rugby via the wonder of SMS messaging.

Things to do asap: I have to e-mail Garry to bring him up to speed on the latest events of note on the northern hemisphere. I also have to get in touch with Baruch Friedland in Israel with info on EVSC. Maybe Ray Smyth can help there.