S*T*U*F*F* Reloaded

I was in Ireland for a few days - I brought little Luka back to see all the relatives, who were beside themselves cooing over the wee guy from the minute we arrived until today, climbing out of the car at “George Best” Belfast City Airport (catchy name - I can just see the huge cheques written to agencies to rearrange the words until they came up with that) as my mum dropped us off and rushed off to Antrim to buy a new motorhome. I know its the nature of every parent to believe that their child really is the cutest, most lovable of all kids, and I am no exception… he really is a wee pet, and was so good natured during our days over there it was just great fun.

It is always fantastic to catch up with old friends. During a pleasant Monday night pint at an old local, “The Esplanade”, my good friend Spike berated me for my post on Ricky Gervais and has stated that until I have seen “the one with the down’s syndrome dwarf” or something, that I should reserve judgement. So I will. I had to bite my tongue on no fewer than 157 occasions as tonight’s pathetic episode piddled its way across our TV screen. Spike apparently woke his baby up as he roared at the episode he claims will change my opinion - for many people this is probably an exaggeration, but the man is capable of extraordinary laughter, and I have seen it many times in the past.
I have a friend at home called Matt. He’s one of those people so ludicrously gifted at so many things it is simultaneously inspiring and somewhat unnerving. I arrived at his new house in the pissing rain, as he was making dinner for us - “fish and chips” apparently, which turned out to be wild salmon and pan fried sea bass on a bed of tomato tartare (roasted overnight with thyme) and home-made basil oil, served with parmesan cream and garlic “chips” - fine slivers of garlic toasted in the oven. The taste left me speechless. I am trying to convince him to open an unofficial restaurant, as I truly have never tasted better food in Northern Ireland, possibly anywhere - it was exquisite, quite beyond the norm. We don’t get many unofficial restaurants in the UK. We had a nice bottle of 2002 Guidalberto to go with it, bargain of the year bought in “the Ava” which curiously enough was a very dodgy off-licence where we used to buy our cider when we were 14.
Travelling alone with Luka was hard work. He’s a year old next week. His website is finally top of the list in Google for the search terms Luka Jones! Haven’t put any new pics up for a while, but will do soon.

Saturday is a big day - the launch of our new business enterprise, “Kimono Baby” - Diane is doing it with a friend from New Zealand - importing beautiful little Japanese baby wraps and selling them. They are so cute. A few people have seen them in our house and bought them on the spot! We’re doing the Baby Show at Earl’s Court, which will be a right old giggle. How far is that from the hub of rock and roll?

I heard that Ronan Keating, my old mate, has finally made his peace with Louis Walsh. Anyone want to take bets on a Boyzone reunion tour? I hope he doesn’t do it. He promised so many times that it would be the last thing he would ever do… I haven’t spoken to him for ages. Strange, really - we got pretty close during Walk Ireland, and I found new sides to him. There were days he pulled me through, and I came out the other side wanting to stay friends with him for as long as we were both living and breathing. Maybe he’s just too busy or something - you know how it gets with friends sometimes - but you can always just pick up where you left off and forget all the days in between.

Well, I’m bolloxed, so heading for bed. “Are you having a laugh?”