THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBERLIN WAN TOO TREE FORR FIYEV

Well, you may remember (see last post) about our brilliant news about appearing in the Capital, in the ordee'ess no less! We did it. We don't have any actual documented evidence, only really here-say. We were called The Beercats for the day, and were written on the fancy booklet as such, and the on-line pdf document with the break-down of entertainment had a couple of sentences saying;

"The Beercats are a soft folk duo from County Wexford"... so there's no proof there of us either. (We're some sort of blues thing from Waterford).

We don't even have photo's, because Dublin was too far a stretch for our handful of fans to get to to take any pictures and I suspect the in situ beer festival photographer has few if any pictures of us, let alone any inclination to e-mail us any free of charge.

So, there's just our word for it really.. and this photo of The Ronald looking slightly concerned about one of the pictures in our hotel room...

Friday 23rd September. 2011 A.D. 10.10am.

The Watercats left their home in a black 1.2lt Opel Corsa borrowed from a relative due to their own vehicle committing kama kaze in the days previous. They crossed the mountains and met the main Dublin road somewhere around Cahir and proceeded thus for a couple of hours at high speed. They provoked the sat nav somewhere on the Naas dual carraigeway and encountered their destination at about mid-day. (The city folk have trains that go in the middle of the road... some class of a sci-fi affair if ever there was one).

After booking into the swanky hotel and encountering a mischievement of visa card details which led to a severe detriment of bank fundages, they continued to their room.. consternation was met when finding it was non-smoking and had three millimeter wide window opening spaces... but.. jubilation was met on finding it had a bath.

The Watercats soon left for a near-by pub, soon after, dying with aghastment at a ten euro bill for two mediocre pints. (apparantly more city sci-fi affairs).

Some time around two The Watercats blundered into a side door of the RDS exhibition hall; A large long vaulted ceiling venue, to stake out the next day's gig site; a large stage with a large sound system and fancy looking technical equipment... they were met by the band guy, given wrist bands, a parking pass and a hand-shake.
By three p.m The Watercats were well on the way to being very drunk on various craft beers, particularly those hailing from Dungarvan Brewing Company. (we love them).

By Friday evening, The Watercats could be mostly spotted in front of the stage dancing embarrassingly in inebriated manners, with far too much abandon.

SATURDAY 25th SEPTEMBER. 10.00am.

The Watercats awaken and need food. No food can be found except pastry things. They eat pastry things and shake and drink tea and retreat back to bed.

2.00pm.

The Watercats awaken and realise they have roughly two hours before their BIG GIG. They bath, pack guitars, shake and feel wobbly and make their way to the RDS. They spend the two hours or so trying to sobre up and keep up-right.

4.25p.m.

The Watercats are standing on the big stage, several hundred people below them. They break into their first song.. and get away with it. A pulse of adrenaline begins to trickle into their clogged arteries, the second song begins and ends and sweat is starting to cling to their backs. A spotlight focused on Vicky's leg begins to burn... Third song.. The Ronald hits a couple of bum notes, Vicky glances over to see him standing glazed eyed, and grey skinned, pre diabetic coma headed, a guitar lead wrapped several times around his leg.. he catches her eye and does a grin before expertly unravelling himself and suddenly returning to his normal peuce colouration.. third song ends.. a jovial mumble to the crowd, adrenaline soaking every pore, on a roll.. too relaxed! A verse is forgotten and left to the gods to worry about, an improvised middle eight instead... alls well.. into the next song after more cajoling and banter.. woooooop! ALIVE ALIVE!.. no'one can touch them, hang-overs forgotten, forced away by the fun of the things and the joy... the guitars clang and crash and beat their way through the set, Vicky wails and stamps, The Ronald bends strings and over-drives like a mentalist.. and all too soon it ends.. shirts drenched.. a great weight lifted.. job done...

more drinking. bagels eaten. retirement to hotel room. bath. bed.

SUNDAY 25th SEPTEMBER. 10.00am.

The Watercats check out. hit the road and away back to the mountain air. Drop into home to see the animals and have a cup of tea, then head straight back out to the kid and good friends. A beautiful afternoon is had in a tiny secret pub, full of old songs and stories and lost verses shared, colloquialisms satiated, old friends remembered and children playing and crisps at the bar and logs on the fire, brown ceilings and concrete floors and big kitchen tables, fiddles and mandolines and whistles and flutes and belly laughs in the dying light of the day. It brings it all home....

The magic is in all the things... big stage, small corner, it's the doing it, the sharing it, the learning and the memory... and it's a week-end we'll remember...