An update on a Sunday

If Im writing this on a Sunday it means one of 2 things. Im either bored, or I wont be updating it for months. Slightly bored, if truth be told and the fact that Im not on air tonight assists in that as well. So a little later on, tune in for some of the best bits of Cork Talks Back. Sundays are a funny ol day. Right about now, theres plenty of people running around the house, not this house but other houses. The women are looking for the right hat, the men looking for the right tie and the children hiding under the bed not wanting to go. Yes, Sunday mass is here again, in about 15 minutes for the 11 service. Im not taking on the religious crew again, particuarly after my recent scare, but I can remember the Sunday morning routine, with the hiding, the crying and the bribing. You know the style of bribing that a 9 year old can produce. "Ill clean my room every day, 300 hundred times a day for the next million years if we dont go to mass this morning." Then, the local church decided to do Saturday night mass, and that was a whole different ball game. As far as I was concerned, Saturday nights were always going to be ruined. Mass and that was it! When things start growing and hair comes out of places that you think it shouldnt, going to Mass on a Saturday night was the place to go, for a teenager who wasnt allowed outside the door.

Those were the days, I would don my dads leather jacket, a shirt, a pants and slick back my then, long hair. I would adpot a position at the back of the church, much to my mothers disappointment, like a holier than thou version of the Fonz. Remember I had the leather jacket! Back in those days, the church going talent was savage. Did I ever pull? during the service, nah. Nope. Never. It wasnt from the fact of trying. Now that I think about it, there was always a really good looking girl, who would stand at the back of the church, close enough to smell my dads Old Spice...or on really special occasions Brut! Being inexperienced with females at the time, I didnt see the signs, let alone read them. She was older, more experienced and was allowed to go out in town. I, on the other hand was younger, stupid and wasnt allowed to go out on the main road. She looked as bored as I did, at the back of that church. Not that I could do anything about that. So maybe the church does bring people together, but as per usual Im the exception. Still though, the Old Spice, the slicked back hair AND the leather jacket have more than likely been etched in her mind, forever.

Being off the air of a Sunday night, is quite a bizarre feeling. Its like a Lion going up to a Zebra and asking for a cup of sugar, instead of ripping its stomach out through its arse. Sunday is now an official lazy day when Im not on the air. No prep, no writing, no nothing for me to do. Come to think of it, I should be still in bed, but the times Im off the air seem to stir the "Get up early and get bloody value for your day" mood. So the urge to get value for the day is running through my veins. I have this weird thing, if Im not up and out of bed before 11 on a work day, the day is over and I have no free time. Also, for me to be in front of a TV of a Sunday night, has the same bizarreness as the Lion looking for a cup of sugar. It just doesnt happen. So tonight, Ill take in Top Gear.........and that'll be that. Sundays are supposed to be a lazy day anyway, but I cant relax. I was told I have to learn to relax, which is like telling a Lion to ask a Zebra for a cup of sugar. Anyways, Im rambling too much now, so Im out the gap!