Perneau, live at Club Meander

perneau.jpg

You don’t always get all members of a band together in one shot. This is Perneau, from Utrecht. The bass player’s an ex-colleague of mine and I went to the show specifically to take pictures. I’ve got a nice set on Flickr that’s currently private as I’d like the band to see them first.

Flickr wish

I wish there was a way on Flickr to upload a batch of photos temporarily, without them appearing in your photostream. So you can look at them, rotate them, whatever, and then tick off the ones you want to add to your stream, and the ones you want to delete. That’s all.

Dub be good to me

Only an hour delay on the way back. Good weekend, shopping, meeting friends, great gig. Sunny days, Sunday felt like Spring. Back at work now, most of the snow has melted but it’s still cold.More about Declan O’Rourke’s outstanding gig later. Some pics at Flickr, but I didn’t put a whole lot of effort into them. Remind me not to take my migraine meds in the daytime – they make me very sleepy.

I worship at the shrine of Marks & Spencer, the only shop in the world where I can grab three pairs of jeans / trousers off the racks and know that they’ll fit, perfectly, without having to try them on. I think most of their clothing is a bit, um, too old for me, eventhough I AM of that age, but trouser-wise M&ampS is da bomb. And it’s even better now that I’ve found out that even their ‘medium’ length is short enough for a leprechaun like myself. Currently wearing brown rib cords for the first time since the 70’s.

Other good shtuff in Dublin:

* The fruit smoothies at Stephen’s Green shopping centre and at the airport (forgotten name of franchise)
* Room #25 at Kelly’s Hotel (view, cleanliness), not to mention the unexpected price drop of (another) 10 Euro. Fifty Euro a night in the city centre is unheard of.
* Burgers and malts at Eddie Rockets. For junk food, they are top notch.
* John Kelly, who is one of the few gents in the business.

Bad shtuff:

* “Service” at the Octagon bar in the Clarence Hotel. Dear U2, please hire people who speak English and don’t fight among each other. And when I ask for brown sauce, I don’t want garlic sauce.
* Bad service just about everywhere. Ireland was my REFUGE from that, man, what the fuck?
* Ridiculous internet access pricing.
* Mr F. (The F. stands for Fucking unreliable cunt.)
* Iskander’s. Formerly best kebab place in the world. Now inedible.
* Getting ripped off by taxi driver. 28 Euro for the airport – city centre drive. I remember when it was 8 pounds.

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