Padre Pio's Mit

So blogosphere, its been a while since this reporter has 'touched base' (to use the technical lingo) and in this piece of scrawl, or well what would be scrawl if t'were written by hand, dark ages stylee, you will find your narrator reflecting upon the mystery that was 2009 and looking with awe, wonderment and mostly deep confusion towards the foreboding (and already underway) 2010. Super mega!

2009 was quite the journey, and began as it ended, in the thralls of hyper-unemployability. Having just told the man 'to do one' beforehand in the now impossibly distant December 2008, I found myself free of the shackles that torture the mind and limit the scope of action for most of the populace. Oh, but what to do with all of this 'new-found time' - an abstract concept in itself. Why, go to Paris of course, for 2 weeks, decimating the last paycheck and knowing you'll live wondering where the next dime will materialise from after your return, but not caring as you value nourishment of t'mind over lining of t'pocket... How. Very. Noble.

Incredibly in these 2 weeks in Paris in January, some attempt was made to nourish the mind (3 cinema visits, gallery visits, a walk in a quartier I was hitherto unacquainted with) but as I know the place well from my 1.5 years of residence, the main focus was, as probably should be, seeing the people I hadn't seen well since my last visit, and making new friendships.

And lo, it was probz the best time of year to do so! Most young French people spend Xmas avec la famille in other parts of France and upon return to Paris, do get-togethers with mates that involve copious amounts of food, booze and funtimes - winner! Attended several such events, and sampled the delights of raclette and one-other-thing-that-uses-that-electric-cooking-device-but-I-can't-remember-what-its-called - why don't we cook cheese, meat and vegetables on an electric device on the table til the melt/are cooked then scoff it all, its delish, simple and a mega fantastico idea!

This party season lent itself kindly to my desire to let off steam following the trauma of working in a proper professional capacity, so much belligerence was attempted with my pals Gricha, Matthias, Joanne, Dimitri, Freddy etc, (sadly Yann was still in Brittany so didn't manage to see him), and new pals we met Etienne and Tom Bailey, twins from England but whose mum is French (cue "you look like Gary from the Cribs!" line from moi and chance meetings in Paris, which is quite difficult tbf) and Joanne's pals too... the Parisian streets were pounded, incredible experiences had and the alluring, seductive charms of possibility permeated every moment, ooh la la!

Upon return, the quest for coin forced my hand into attending the Salford Labour Exchange, one of the most terrifying places in the world. Had to go every two weeks, as is protocol, and look awkwardly at the carpet or walls, to avoid the glares of the scallies, who didn't seem to like my hipster ways, which is fair enough. This sustained me to May, ergo necessary evil.

Between which times, the final end game played out of my time in my delightful condo Krojo Towers, my residence. It had a balcony! It had a massive flatscreen TV! But more importantly it had Kryst and Mojo - Team Destroyer! And destroy we did, existence a maelstrom of concerts, nights out, random unplanned trips to Premier League games organised on the DAY OF THE GAME, like this:

Bolton ticket office - Bolton Wanderers ticket office, how can I help?

Kryst (hungover) - Can I have, ehhh, 2 tickets....... for todays game

B.W.F.C.- Er, yes sir, where would you like to sit?

Kryst - Um...... I dunno ..... one of the big stands along the side ...

(cue hysterical laughter from Krojo corp inhabitants.... lasts 30 seconds)

Kryst - Sorry, along the side. Oh, top tier.

(aside to Mojo - top floor, top drawer! More chuckles)

B.W.F.C. The Lofthouse Stand ok sir?

Kryst Aye, that'll do.

And so this was living, this was what we got. This and random daytrips to places like Newcastle ("I didn't realise it was so far away") and Leeds ("God I didn't realise it was so close!") This and seeing bands maybe about twice a week every week, took me up to May, by which point it became impossible to pay rent and forced me into the dreaded move home - oooh errr vicar!

So arrived back home beginning of May and oh my, how well did it start, what with two Morrissey gigs, one in Omagh, the other in Belfast, zing! Omagh was particularly spiffing, Big Red was tooled up and guided along the treacherous roads by moi with Stevo, wee Jamie Cosgrove and Seamy Shim-Bop towards our destination, a roadside bar/hotel near Omagh in anticipation of the gig in the Leisure Centre - incredible. At said show, the attendants were wearing shorts and t-shirts and there were actually people still using the leisure centre, swimming! Madness! As we left to go to the aftershow at Top of The Town, a passing, speeding car's window was screwed down and they shouted at us "Colenso!". I think they thought we were someone else... This later came to make sense.

Slinking into the summer months, I remember my familial trip to Killarney and little else (well I could if I tried, but I refuse to try). It was awesome! Surprisingly! Good food, nice hotels, and we even got dolled up and went to Ladies Day at the Horse Racing Track, it were ace!

The onset of Autumn, and all that sticks in the memory now is my epic gig tours - going to see the Cribs 3 times in 3 cities in a week (Dublin, Belfast, MCR) and to see Morrissey twice in two days in Leeds and Sheffield... A super autumn for Autistic Kris !!!

Then winter and "the terrrrrrrbill cowl of it all, yill get yurrr death in that sonny, we're all gonna die, get the mit" (said in voice of 94 year-old woman, inhabitant of THE KINGDOM OF MOURNE) and the party season. Though when is it not, he says! Schmaltzy!

And that was it 2009. So here we are on the other side, how is it shaping up? After 2 day NYE party and the following weekend's birthday celebration, it seems like it will be the year dubbed

"The Willful Destruction of Self and Others, a Greek Tragedy in 365 parts" by Kristos Higginovic...

Though what is 2010? These silly integers on a man-made scale are rather tiresome, n'est-ce pas?

---FIN---