Salt and Vinegar?

It could be all those years I spent in New Yawk. It might be the lure of deep fat fried food. Maybe it’s the banter behind the counter. But one thing’s for sure….

I LOVE FISH AND CHIPS.

Fresh cod and freshly cut chips wrapped in paper with salt and a tiny bit of vinegar – there’s nothing like it!

In fact, they’ve become a makeshift tradition in my life. Every Friday my team in work (known affectionately as the McGurkettes) stroll down to our favourite chipper – Leo Burdocks! There’s normally a long line outside the door as the lads bustle about behind the counter getting everyone’s order ready. We carry it back to the 4fm studios triumphantly and head out on the balcony to devour our treat in the sunshine.

MMMM…is it Friday yet?

Today is National Fish and Chip Day – members of the Irish Traditional Chippers Association will be selling this takeaway classic at half price. Check here to see if your chipper is on the list!

The Summer Wind

I hate the cold. As a result, I find myself shuddering in situations where most people are comfortable. To me, luke warm is freezing cold. I can’t go anywhere without some sort of cardigan or sweater – especially here in Ireland where even a good day in the summer is still fairly breezy and subject to an obligatory rain shower every few minutes.

Have you ever seen the brave souls who get into the Irish sea on Christmas day? Well, I’d rather jump off a cliff than attempt such a feat of cold bloodedness.

The Winter of 2010 has set new records in the cold stakes. It brought snow, floods and frost like never before. It has led to dry, broken skin, sore lips, frozen noses and stinging ears. It’s winters like these that bring on my memories of New York in the Summer.

Most New Yorkers are used to the sweltering heat that comes along in May and fizzles out somewhere in the middle of September. When I first arrived in Brooklyn, in May 1994 – I hadn’t a clue how to handle life in what felt like an oven. But I was a kid, and kids can easily adapt to weather shifts and changes.

It was my mother who suffered the most. Every time she turned on the oven she had to sit down and wipe her brow with a tea towel, sighing, “this bloody heat!”. She used to say that when she crossed the road in the summer, she was so hot and worn out, she was afraid that wouldn’t make it to the other side. At her command, our little sweaty apartment was fitted with the best air conditioning money could buy, as well as a BBQ so we could avoid using the kitchen.

My biggest issue with the hot weather, was wearing a school uniform in it. When I got to Catholic High School, we had to wear these woolen short skirts and since it was far too hot for tights, knee high socks completed the preppy look. It wasn’t so bad on the walk to and from school – but come exam time, it was sure to make the difference in the classroom. You’d sit down on your plastic seat (you know the ones with the little desks attached?) and within half an hour, your whole leg would be stuck in place with sweat. You knew you’d have to move it eventually to get comfortable, the question was, would it be slow or quick, like a plaster. Inevitably, you’d end up with these horrible red marks on your thighs. Very attractive.

Sometimes on the walk home from school, I’d walk through McDonald’s – in one side and out the other – without even looking at the menu, just so that I could have two minutes of air conditioning to tide me over.

One place you definitely don’t want to be for a long period of time is at a subway station in the Summer. The heat is almost unbearable and you stand with your eyes fixed on the tunnel hoping the train will come, the doors will open and the air conditioning on board will dry your sweat and clear your head – which was slowly overheating minute by minute.

But it isn’t all bad. The summer in New York comes along with the most amazing smell -a mixture of cotton candy, BBQs, freshly cut grass and sun tan lotion. It comes in the form of this rush of heat to your face, which is especially noticeable if you’re in manhattan, walking in between two particularly tall sky scrapers. There’s also the whiff of hot dog stands, the sound of an ice cream van, vendors shouting “Ice cold water – one dollar” on every corner and on a quiet block, the sound of secadas buzzing from the trees.

When you’re a teenager, a New York summer is very uneventful, but totally memorable at the same time. The average day would go as follows: wake up at noon (or later), wander out onto the stoop to get the mail (while enjoying the warmth of the concrete on your toes), eat cereal while watching trashy daytime talk shows, pick up the phone to talk to other teenaged humans also watching trashy daytime talk shows, slip on flip-flops, meet up with friends with zero plan of action, hang out on someone’s stoop while gossiping, get pizza, hang out on a different stoop while gossiping, go to the cinema to enjoy the air conditioning, go to a final stoop for more gossip, go home. It may sound dull but it was heaven at the time.

This Summer will be my first one in a long time that’s New York-free. With a full time job here in Dublin, there’s no hope of me escaping to Long Island, Brooklyn or Manhattan for June, July or August. I guess I’ll just have to hope that all those weather-predicting postmen are correct and that Ireland gets a little slice of the bliss that is a sweaty, humid New York season.

Williamsburg Summer 2008

Raise a glass…

If there’s one thing I hate doing, it’s sitting around every evening watching TV. I’ve always had this great sense that if I did that, I’d be wasting time! I’m lucky enough to live in one of the most culturally exciting cities in Europe and one of my continuous goals is to take full advantage of all it has to offer me. In that sense, I’m even more fortunate to have an interesting and adventurous boyfriend (he’d be blushing if he read this!). From day one, we’ve always surprised each other with really creative “dates” – everything from Dublin’s Ghost Bus (highly recommended for a good giggle!) to the Irish Museum of Modern Art (sure to inspire interesting conversation) to interpretive dance at the Project Arts Centre (hilarious. Plain hilarious).

I wasn’t quite sure about what we had planned for last night. It was something I was comfortable with, but like a child on the first day of school – I couldn’t help but be a bit nervous and apprehensive at the prospect of being placed among new people conquering one of the world’s most feared tasks: Public Speaking.

Toastmasters is an internationally recognised public speaking club where members meet once a week to speak both off the cuff and prepared. The whole point is to progress in skill and confidence and to be evaluated by your peers in a constructive and positive environment. Thursday evening’s interesting date was to a meeting of Dublin Toastmasters at Buswell’s Hotel.

My first impression was of the extremely welcoming atmosphere. The Boyf had been there a few times before and immediately one of the club members recognised him and said “hello”. The people in the room (about fifty in total) surprised me.They ranged in age from mid twenties all the way up to the oldest Toastmaster in Dublin who is ninety-two. There were many different nationalities in the room including Irish, British, Polish and South African. Some spoke with the typical Dublin south side drawl, others with sing-song north side accents and other’s still with Irish accents from farther afield. Toastmasters come in all shapes, sizes, colours and creeds.

The meeting flew by, and although I wanted to speak on a few of the topics, my fear held me back. It wasn’t until the end of the meeting that I realised that several guests, in the exact same position as me had spoken!

The topics session was really enlightening. The Topicsmaster would pick out a question or topic and then the name of a member. The member would then have to speak on the random topic for two minutes. Afterwards others could speak to respond. Topics ranged from, “What was your most memorable job?” to “Chance favours the prepared mind”.

The whole experience reminded me of my days competing in Speech and Debate competitions. The speech team at my all girl high school in New York were always the ones to beat at State competitions and we knew it. My category was “Dramatic Interpretation”, so I would basically memorise a monologue and perform it for judges who would then critique me. The pressure was immense and I can remember always feeling just a little bit sweaty before each performance.

One particular competition comes to mind. I had been doing very well that Saturday and had made it to the coveted final round. The dress for such events was fairly professional – with all of us wearing skirt or trouser suits. My piece was a colourful monologue in the voice of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s certifiably insane wife Zelda – it involved acting like a bit of a flirt, shouting at no one in particular and eventually dying in a mental hospital fire (phew! I’m wrecked just remembering it!) While performing it for the final time that day, I went a little far with the flirting and ended up accidentally flicking up my skirt right at the judges. Nice. I was mortified. Would the judges disqualify me for vulgar behaviour? Should I stop speaking?! I managed to push these crazy thoughts aside and soldiered on ending up in a respectable third place! (My entire team slagged me for weeks, attributing my trophy to my flashing the judges!)

The meeting of Toastmasters last night made me want to be a better public speaker. The members totally inspired me! It’s definitely something I want to join in the near future.