Off like a dirty shirt...

The minute you step on board an Aer Lingus flight is your first step into Ireland. The cabin crew are efficient but friendly (not that all Ireland is efficient, mind) and there is no more shoving and dirty looks. The man beside me offered me sweets "for take-off" and behind me the aer steward was chatting to a passenger about the fate of Roy Keane and Celtic. The pilot gave us a rambling rundown of where and how we were flying adding that somebody had been "really very stupid" and if there was anymore smoking in the toilets he´d stop in London and have the culprit arrested. Of course the last thing any Irish person wants is passport control in England!

Dani collected me in the airport and I was very nervous. It wasn´t til I saw him that I realised that I was very angry at him. I´m not entirely sure why but I think part of it was because when he was in Barcelona I help him with all I could and we had very little money between us, and then he just left. In any case, before I could say anything, I was whisked into the airport lounge for a drink with a guy he had just met from Cork who was living in the Isle of Mann.

We headed out into town and the first thing I noticed was how people on the bus chatted quietly to each other. Elderly people were given seats without having to fight for them, and although Ireland used to have a reputation for being badly dressed, down to the poverty at the time, people now are all casually wearing simple jeans and warm coats and not one of them is glaring disapprovingly at someone´s out-of-season boots or un-colour-so-ordinated hat. I smile to myself as a young man leans into the driver´s cabin for a wee chat.

In town we meet my dad for a hot port or two before heading out to my mam´s. I am slightly worried about bringing Dani and my dad together because they are both strong personalities and wary of each other. But since we share a nook with a bunch of Bosnians, and they both love being sociable, it turns out to be no problem. Dani hold my hand and insists on buying all drinks, maybe because I paid for most things when we were away. My dad is less shining than usual, still heart-broken about his ex-girlfriend. I just want to shout about how mean I think she is, but that won´t do anyone any good. I just tell him he deserves to have someone who loves him properly, and that if she wants to be with an idiot then isn´t he lucky he got away when he did? He sucks his knuckles thoughtfully, "I never thought of it like that".

My brother opens the door for us out in the suburbs where my mam lives, and he is already 6 foot tall at only 15 years old. His twin decends the stairs with a shy grin, god I missed the pair of them! Because they are 10 years younger than me we have a strange relationship - part sister, part guardian, part friend. I´d a long row once with my mam about how if she "popped it", as she puts it, that I wanted to be their guardian. She agreed that she would prefer this, but also pointed out that I would have to put my life on hold if I was constantly minding them. Well, nice of her to think of that, but surely my life would be on hold anyway if she "popped it"? I would rather our family stayed kind of together. In anycase, we went upstairs and had some coffee and almond cake and Dani sat down to play chess with my brother. Dani is very good at chess, but here he made a huge mistake. Within 3 moves his queen was gone. He was astounded and realised that despite my warnings he had underestimated my brother. He settled in for a long game (which he eventually lost due to a skewer and spike). My brother played the chessclub teacher in school and beat him. When he asked who had taught him and which club he played for, my sibling answered "I learned from a book and I play against my brother". The chessclub teacher has been trying to get the twins to play in a club since, and my mam who is scared of over-pushing her kids, has been devil´s advocate and telling them they don´t want to play in a club. I do think one of them is into it though and I have been trying to bend my mam a bit.

That night anyhow, I was going to go and visit friends but I was too exhausted so I returned to Dani´s. The man never ceases to amaze me. He lives in a room with two bags, one for clean clothes and one for dirty clothes. He has a warm bed, but no curtains and a bare floor. The only other things he owns are a guitar, a cat and some copybooks for writing songs in. He doesn´t even have a warm coat and his shoes have holes in them. I realise also how much I have missed him and that there are so many things that I love about him, and I feel a little sad as I wonder what is to become of us.

Thursday I meet up with Catherine, the girl I came to Barcelona with. She comes running down the road resplendent in peacock blues and pinks and after doing some bits and bobs we head into a gig in Whelans. It turns out Gary Dunne is back from London for a few days and he puts my name on the door. The perfect opportunity to "go into the night", as Cathering would say. Gary, although good, is not on form however. But being a true professional, he plays a good gig despite technical problems, and Catherine is enthralled. Eventually we wobble home in the rain, complete with the chips I have been craving since I left the country.

Friday night I discover that Ben and Aidan are now playing in a band called The Happy Gang and I hang out with them and other friends playing music and drinking wine. I also collect some of my winter clothes and boots to bring back to Barcelona with me. Dani is sick so I just pass on his regards, and I call over to him that night and the following day head out on my own to a friend´s leaving do as he is still sick.

Sunday is, of course, Christmas. It is only family and we spend the evening making food, recording music, reading, and exchanging presents. This year we have placed a limit on how much we spent as my sister is broke. I go over anyhow as this year I can afford to and my presents are part "coming home from Spain" and part Christmas presents. I buy the twins a T-shirt each and a double CD, Pink Floyd and the Beatles. My sister gets a hodge-podge of things from hairclips to Tshirts and a nodding horse that is truly tackelicious. My step-father receives cherry chocolates for three of us (all seperately purchased!) and the Doors, while my mam is pleased with her book and Kate Bush CD. I am delighted with my presents as usual. Dinner is lovely, the crackers are terrible as always, and my mam sends me home with a bag full of pepernoten, a typical dutch Christmas treat.

Monday I spend with my father mostly, culminating with a few songs down in the International. Of course my cold steps in here, and I find myself unable to play the third song due to a frog in my throat, and for the first time in years I stop midsong. But I don´t care. I also have the best Tapas ever in the Market Bar with my dad and my Chilean step mother Monica, who are under some kind of reconciliation now. Monica also bought me lunch a few days before, and lends me her travel sewing machine so I have something to do over Christmas. Dani joins us later and we trundle home at a fairly decent hour, as my usual haunts appear to have lost their licences.

For cheap food look no further than Cafe Bar Deli! Well cheap in Irish terms. And good quality and tasty. Tuesday being my last day, I invite out all the friends I haven´t managed to see yet but wanted to, for lunch. I munch my way through twice as much as anyone else (proudly, might I add)and head off to O´Sullivans for some more music as Ben and Aidan are hosting the night. Dani joins me, and for the first time I see the nervous side in him so I do backing vocals to support him as he sings. He insists he needs another singer(not himself), but afterwards many people come over amazed that our voices match so well. Well I know it sounded good, but then I consider myself a singer. We spend much of our last night talking things over and encouraging each other. This is a hard time for Dani, having to turned straight, and I remind him he did it for himself, not for anybody else and not because it was an easy road and not for the money. But I can see he is down and it breaks my heart.

I told Dani clearly that I don´t want a long-distance relationship and although he skirted a discussion, he knows what I mean. Part of me hopes I am not doing my usual throwing things away, part of me knows I am scared to be beholden to anyone or hurt again. Part of me knows that for the next few weeks at least that Dani and I will not be with anyone else anyhow. Dani said he wanted to come over for my birthday in February. I told him I don´t want him to. I only want him to come over if he wants to, and he already said that he need to stay in Ireland at the moment and sort himself out. But we will see.

I came home safe and sound with two seats beside me empty so I could sleep on the flight. I got on the bus into Barcelona where a girl with her mouth hanging open as if to catch flies rudely pushed and nagged all the way back. I´m definitely back in Barcelona, I thought, as I saw her out of the corner of my eye glaring at my clothes for most of the journey before pushing a six year old out of her way to get of at the same stop as everybody else.