The dart from Malahide to Blackrock when the sun is shining is a treat on any given day. Such was the start of our journey last Friday, as Annabelle and I headed off on a road-trip to Cork, the Rebel City. About a month ago, I’d signed up for a few sessions of the Cork World Book Festival which was taking place all week.

Armed with good coffee, a few packets of crisps, and a few bananas (to appear healthy), we took in the glorious views that Dublin has to offer. I never really appreciated it when I was growing up in the 80’s, but the coast-line is surely one of the nicest in the world.

Why Blackrock, I hear you say? That’s not on the way to Cork. We’d arranged to meet my friend Val Troy, who I met on-line (that sounds dodgy…it wasn’t like that – get your minds out of the gutter). She is part of the Writing.ie Writers Ink group and was also travelling to the event, so offered to give us a lift.  

“I’ll see ya in the Kia!” Val proclaimed when we alighted at Blackrock Station.

There’s nothing like a road-trip in a Kia 7-seater van, occupied by three middle-aged women with bananas. I’m sure we were spotted bouncing down the N7 head-banging to Bohemian Rhapsody. The excitement was too much for us. I admit, the photo attached to this blog is not exactly a true representation, but seriously, we think we’re gorgeous and that’s all that matters.

Val has three kids, all practically teenagers. The eldest made a play-list which, to my delight, included some ABBA and Em’n’Em. I know, I know, it’s a stark contrast in musical tastes. But I knew from that moment, that I would love this child. (Assuming he doesn’t run like the wind when he meets me).

You can’t beat getting older and taking a road-trip. We do all the same things as we would have in our twenties, only with wild abandon, not caring at all what other people on the road might think, seeing us all pressing our faces up against the windows. It’s the lip-syncing I love. The bananas were obviously not there to be eaten, but acted as microphones, while we mouthed Careless Whisper to the passing trucks. Granted, we didn’t moon anyone – we’ll save that for the next trip. (Val had just cleaned her car after all, so it would’ve been rude to smudge the windows).

We had a pit-stop at the Circle K in Ballacolla. Val is very proud of the fact that she maintains excellent bladder control. She can’t comprehend how so many of her friends have issues with holding theirs. Annabelle and I have the same ailment – once our bladders signal it’s time… IT’S TIME. It doesn’t matter how much Kegel-ing is done (link to a piece on nether regions here: https://funnywomen.com/2022/01/07/the-gynae-the-kegal-the-cabbages/). Accidents have happened on the road, and I don’t mean car crashes. Always prepared, we ensure there are extra knickers in the glove compartment…just in case of an unfortunate mishap. (Okay, that’s not entirely true, but trust me, it WILL happen to you).

Shocked by too much information, Val ushered us into the toilets and said she’d meet us back at the coffee station, where we could have a refill. Three more coffees, and three more bananas.

Thanks to Val’s stellar driving, we made it to Cork in one piece. Childhood memories flooded my mind as we entered the city. Feelings of nostalgia invaded my entire being as I thought back to all the summers in the 80s’ when I visited my grandparents. I’m forever amazed by the power of our minds, and how a sight or a sound or a smell from so many years ago can ignite emotions that either cripple us or lift us up.

Turning from St. Patricks Street onto MacCurtain Street, we spotted our hotel, the REZz, a new and swanky establishment that boasted either Teeny Tiny, Tight Fit or Just Right rooms. I’m serious, look them up! http://www.rezz.ie

Upon entering the main door, to the right were the lifts, and to the left was the check-in desk. Brian welcomed us with a huge smile, and delightful Cork-infused greeting. “Hello ladies, how are ye?” His voice raised at the end of the sentence like birdsong. Aah…taking a deep breath, I felt waves of rumination embrace me, thinking of those summers as a child. Am I right in saying that there’s something perfectly lovely about the Cork accent?

Brian asked us if it was our first time staying at the REZz. Val assured him it was not, reminding us all of the time she’d stayed with another pal who was kept up all night by the pleasant sounds of two young-wans exploring the art of love-making until 6 in the morning.

“But apart from the thin walls, we had a blast, like” said Val. (Throwing in ‘like’ for good Cork-accent measure – she’s very clever, our Val)

After receiving our keys, Val warned us of three things:

1. The rooms are spotless.
2. The showers are incredible.
3. We won’t be able to swing a cat in them.

She wasn’t far off the truth. In fairness to the REZz, they have a fantastic business model. Imagine one of those blockbuster games you play on your phone when you’re waiting for your friends to come back from the toilet. You must place every set of blocks in exactly the right place, or you lose. The bedrooms were like that – every centimetre of the room was used, in straight lines, everything fit perfectly. The bed (very comfortable) went from the window to the wall with not an inch to spare. Your bedside locker was the windowsill above the bed. There was no storage space other than a few very modern-looking pegs on the back of the door. There was another ledge at the end of the bed, beneath the TV (the size of the wall), which was ample enough to hold your makeup, deodorant, and bananas. A sliding door separated the bathroom from the bedroom, with about two feet in between to place your suitcase, if you had one. Val was right about the showers. A fantastic rain-shower head dominated a substantial shower tray. Once you’d backed in, and stood at the back of the shower unit, you could then close the glass door and enjoy excellent pressure and heat. It was lovely!

Downstairs was the Mix Bar, a very cool industrial looking setting, with large bar and happy-faced bar-tender, more than willing to pour me the finest pint of Heineken in the county. I couldn’t help myself and launched into my self-proclaimed Cork accent saying “This is massive. Sure I might just get langers”. A forced smile from the bar-tender was all I needed to feel accepted. (I’m 51, I don’t care anymore!)

As Val and Annabelle secured a table in the not-at-all busy lounge, I explored a little bit. The art was really chic with large nouveaux paintings, splattered with bright pinks, blues and yellows. Hanging over the Pac-Man machine (yes, an actual original) was a painting with the words ‘KICK ASS’ pouncing out at you. It was like a blast from the past. The three of us sat there in our 80’s time capsule agreeing that Hotel REZz was a proper mood changer.

Daydreaming, as I often do, I imagined Val drinking a West Coast Cooler, donning a newly coiffed perm, blue eye shadow, and high-waisted jeans. Projecting us back to the 80’s, I saw Annabelle with a back-combed look, pink eye-shadow, and assortment of bangles up both arms, drinking a Harvey Wallbanger.

 “Jaysus, that’s only savage like?” the bar-tender whisked me back to reality complimenting the tattoo on my right-arm. Ah, nostalgia, how I love you.

The night unfolded with the addition of Nora, also of our writers’ group. It’s worth another blog, so please pop back here next week for the continuation.

Thank you for reading. Have a mighty day, like!