The other day my Joshua Tree boxed set arrived! At last! Seemed like forever since I ordered it. It was worth waiting for... a sumptous black and gold delight, with lots of goodies inside. A 56 page book filled with lyrics (some a copy of Bono's original hand written words, complete with scribbles); an envelope with 5 postcard pictures inside; and of course 3 discs... the remastered Joshua Tree, a CD with B-sides from the day, and some extra tracks... and finally the DVD I had been waiting for with bated breath!
I'll read the book soon, but for now I am obsessed with the music and the images. Many years ago I had a jumpy, scratchy video of part of a concert from Paris. Now I have it all (or most of it) in glorious, glitch-free technicolor!!! It's a real treat. Now, don't get me wrong, throughout his changing images and hair, I have always loved Bono best when he looks as he does "now", in the moment, because for me that is the "real" him. Even though sometimes he has REALLY tested my loyalty, like in 1988/89 when he had that too long dark hair, and in 1994/95 when he sported that pointy, devil-like beard and took to wearing tweed and grandad cardigans, and that cap that made him look like a Polish farmer or something (not that I am knocking Polish farmers, but they are not my romantic fantasy!).
But anyway, in this new (old) DVD, he looks glorious.... all long, lustrous hair (oh the colour, that lovely warm red) and 80's waistcoat and boots - gotta love the 80s! His face is unlined (weren't we all 20 years ago?!) and pure, and as always it is so weird to see Bono in the early days, before the map of his travels and experiences was drawn on his face. We've seen him grow up before our very eyes, and turn into the tireless campaigner he is.
So he leaps and dances and winks his way through the Paris gig, and it's great fun. Really good fun and wonderful to have something from that era that is such good quality.
The bonus videos on the disc are the alternative version of "With or Without You" (not very impressive in my opinion) and "Red Hill Mining Town" which is a great song, but the video has more cheese than a packet of Quavers! Very funny. But everyone looks so good in it. Adam is almost unrecognisable at the beginning! I just hope that no canaries were hurt in the filming because they are flapping all over the place and appear to be thrown in all directions!!!
There is a hidden video or "Easter Egg" as they are known, on the DVD. From the menu select "Videos" and when you get to the screen with the videos titles on, scroll up and highlight the line ABOVE "U2". Press enter and it will prompt you for a password. Enter "Betty" and you will get a couple of tracks from The Dalton Brothers.
Finally, the new songs on the bonus CD are great. I love "Wave of Sorrow". The music was created in the Joshua Tree sessions 20 years ago, but the lyric and vocal are from now, and you can really tell. It is so NOW, and again so "in the moment" that it is impossible to mistake it for old Bono. He had never had all those experiences 20 years ago, and then, he was deep into his American (both north and south) phase. "Wave of Sorrow" is a photograph of Africa.
"Rise Up" is another one I like on first playing but I need to listen to it more. That sounds to me so like Bruce Springsteen, and I know Bono was hanging out with him then and was influenced. America again... and you can't get more American than Bruce.
So that's my two cents and first impressions of the remastered Joshua Tree offering.
Opinions welcome.
Sunday, 16 December 2007
Sunday, 2 December 2007
Did We Have A Great Time? Abso-fuckin-lutely!
Okay, so it is just after midday and I have just got out of bed after sleeping for just 4 and a half hours! My last guest left at 6am... the sight of her tottering to the taxi in trench coat, knee length boots and pyjamas will stay in my memory for a while! "Hello, Pyjama Girl," the taxi driver shouts through his window (she had told them on the phone that she was wearing pyjamas. In fact, she had been telling everyone within earshot all night).
As I shut the door, I see her Victoria Beckham jeans and Italian sweater, strewn on the floor where she had left them over ten hours ago!
What a great night. Everyone turned up and there was so much food! Lovely mini duck in filo pastry with dips from Jan, satay chicken, wings, quiche, wedges... you name it, we had it.
Gemma and I became experts at mixing the Cosmopolitans and we imbibed many glasses! It was so great that my workmates (old and new) got along. Janis was a "Sex and the City" virgin but we managed to convert her. It was lovely to watch her reaction to something so familiar to us - to see how she took to the characters.
Thanks to Janis, Ruth, Gemma and Janet for coming and making it a really fun night.
Now I am off to lie on the sofa. Hangovers don't cure themselves!
As I shut the door, I see her Victoria Beckham jeans and Italian sweater, strewn on the floor where she had left them over ten hours ago!
What a great night. Everyone turned up and there was so much food! Lovely mini duck in filo pastry with dips from Jan, satay chicken, wings, quiche, wedges... you name it, we had it.
Gemma and I became experts at mixing the Cosmopolitans and we imbibed many glasses! It was so great that my workmates (old and new) got along. Janis was a "Sex and the City" virgin but we managed to convert her. It was lovely to watch her reaction to something so familiar to us - to see how she took to the characters.
Thanks to Janis, Ruth, Gemma and Janet for coming and making it a really fun night.
Now I am off to lie on the sofa. Hangovers don't cure themselves!
Saturday, 1 December 2007
Tonight's The Night!
I am excited today, despite the way this week has gone. The downside is that I developed synovitis in my right wrist and work has been very painful. The upside is that tonight is my long-awaited cocktail party!!
A few of us are getting together, watching Sex And The City DVDs, drinking Cosmopolitans, and eating. And the dress code is pyjamas!!! I totally stole the idea from a party I went to when on holiday in America earlier this year (yes, I will blog it soon!) and it was so much fun that I wanted to do it for myself when I got back.
The only thing is that my dear friend, Donna, will not be able to make it, because it would be right up her street, but at least she will be able to read about it and see the pics (if there are any I can actually show the world!) tomorrow.
It would have been great for Sue to be here too (and not as far for her to travel as Donna), but we are going to make up for it next year and have an "Ab Fab" themed night at her house!! Bolli anyone!
A few of us are getting together, watching Sex And The City DVDs, drinking Cosmopolitans, and eating. And the dress code is pyjamas!!! I totally stole the idea from a party I went to when on holiday in America earlier this year (yes, I will blog it soon!) and it was so much fun that I wanted to do it for myself when I got back.
The only thing is that my dear friend, Donna, will not be able to make it, because it would be right up her street, but at least she will be able to read about it and see the pics (if there are any I can actually show the world!) tomorrow.
It would have been great for Sue to be here too (and not as far for her to travel as Donna), but we are going to make up for it next year and have an "Ab Fab" themed night at her house!! Bolli anyone!
A Poet's Heart
I am feeling brave today. Sometimes you have to bare your soul - and bear it. The weight of it, that is. Over the years I have written many poems, most - I have to say - penned during troubled times. Times that were difficult for one reason or another. They say that angst breeds art, and I believe that is true. It is certainly interesting to look back on something you wrote when things were hard. Especially when, in a strange way, you can't even remember being that person. But you remember knowing her, and watching her life.
I didn't know if I was brave enough to put them on my blog until I had my daily visit to my good friend Sue's Blog. It was spooky that she posted about poetry at precisely the time I was thinking about it, so it seemed a good omen.
So... here (to start with) are 3 poems that specifically deal with a very early part of my life. The second two don't need explaining. They speak for themselves.
The first is about my "wide-eyed" first forays into the world of religion. Not by choice. I was a child being brought into a Roman Catholic world because the adults around me decided I must. The poem is of my earliest memories of Sunday services, with my nan. I posted this poem on a poetry newsgroup once and it brought many positive reactions and only one negative one. One reader thought that I was attacking their beliefs. For the record, I would not attack anyone's beliefs. This is simply a child's view of a confusing ritual.
These days, religion has no place in my life. I am an agnostic, and my view of the church is maybe tainted by my experiences. But that is for another time, another post. Meanwhile, the poems:
I didn't know if I was brave enough to put them on my blog until I had my daily visit to my good friend Sue's Blog. It was spooky that she posted about poetry at precisely the time I was thinking about it, so it seemed a good omen.
So... here (to start with) are 3 poems that specifically deal with a very early part of my life. The second two don't need explaining. They speak for themselves.
The first is about my "wide-eyed" first forays into the world of religion. Not by choice. I was a child being brought into a Roman Catholic world because the adults around me decided I must. The poem is of my earliest memories of Sunday services, with my nan. I posted this poem on a poetry newsgroup once and it brought many positive reactions and only one negative one. One reader thought that I was attacking their beliefs. For the record, I would not attack anyone's beliefs. This is simply a child's view of a confusing ritual.
These days, religion has no place in my life. I am an agnostic, and my view of the church is maybe tainted by my experiences. But that is for another time, another post. Meanwhile, the poems:
Grandmother
If I never understood you, it's because you never let me
As you sat there with your arms crossed
Across giant, wool-clad bosom
Your face pinched and sullen
Mouth puckered like the anus of a pit-bull
I feared you, and I never wanted to stay
But you made me, every Sunday
You dragged me into that house of pain
Where tortured souls bowed and scraped
And gave their dignity to a man in black frilled with white
The smell of ashes, sweet and oily palms
Burned as offerings then smeared across the brows
Of frightened children, faces wide like mine
Our hearts fluttering as we chewed the flesh of a magic man
With puzzled face each Saturday, I made up sins
To tell the shadow behind the crimson curtain and hazy mesh
And when I emerged with prayers to say, you'd take my hand
And lead me to the altar, and watch as I knelt
And smile as my lips moved, wanting you to know I was praying
And you'd finger your black rosary.
Copyright ©2007 DebbiVoisey
Gone
My father took the typewriter from the hall
Told me he loved me, kissed me. Then left
My mother, later, asked us all What happened?
Wrung her hands, cried. Was bereft
The house was quiet that day
During the night my mother's father died
In the morning, all around her bowed head
And dripping tears, we played inside
Making a mess, shouting, jumping on the bed
The house was noisy that day
Copyright ©2007 DebbiVoisey
Again
On Sundays Demis Roussos would fill my head
Talking about his friend the wind as my dad
Closed his eyes and thought his thoughts
As my mother cried and was distraught
Trying to make sense of the mess
Ghosts would haunt us in those damp rooms
(Strange rooms - not our home)
Relatives long since gone, trying to point out
Mistakes made and yet to be made
Desperate nights squashed together and listening
To the raised voices. Declaring hate and rage
And hopelessness. And the end
This is it
If I never understood you, it's because you never let me
As you sat there with your arms crossed
Across giant, wool-clad bosom
Your face pinched and sullen
Mouth puckered like the anus of a pit-bull
I feared you, and I never wanted to stay
But you made me, every Sunday
You dragged me into that house of pain
Where tortured souls bowed and scraped
And gave their dignity to a man in black frilled with white
The smell of ashes, sweet and oily palms
Burned as offerings then smeared across the brows
Of frightened children, faces wide like mine
Our hearts fluttering as we chewed the flesh of a magic man
With puzzled face each Saturday, I made up sins
To tell the shadow behind the crimson curtain and hazy mesh
And when I emerged with prayers to say, you'd take my hand
And lead me to the altar, and watch as I knelt
And smile as my lips moved, wanting you to know I was praying
And you'd finger your black rosary.
Copyright ©2007 DebbiVoisey
Gone
My father took the typewriter from the hall
Told me he loved me, kissed me. Then left
My mother, later, asked us all What happened?
Wrung her hands, cried. Was bereft
The house was quiet that day
During the night my mother's father died
In the morning, all around her bowed head
And dripping tears, we played inside
Making a mess, shouting, jumping on the bed
The house was noisy that day
Copyright ©2007 DebbiVoisey
Again
On Sundays Demis Roussos would fill my head
Talking about his friend the wind as my dad
Closed his eyes and thought his thoughts
As my mother cried and was distraught
Trying to make sense of the mess
Ghosts would haunt us in those damp rooms
(Strange rooms - not our home)
Relatives long since gone, trying to point out
Mistakes made and yet to be made
Desperate nights squashed together and listening
To the raised voices. Declaring hate and rage
And hopelessness. And the end
This is it
The keys rattle
The door slams
He is gone.
Again
Copyright ©2007 DebbiVoisey
He is gone.
Again
Copyright ©2007 DebbiVoisey
Monday, 26 November 2007
Jump on board, take a ride!
Channel 4 showed a Kylie special last night and I was just watching the Bono thing again (God that man is so funny! Loved his impression of Robbie, although everyone does Robbie with a Manchester accent when we all know he is from my neck of the woods!).....and in the middle of it Kylie says something very poignant, and I am sure that it is the same for U2 and us. She was asked what it was like doing a show and she said:
"For me it's much more than doing a show and having an audience. It's pretty much safe to say that 99% of the audience know me or have had some experience that involves me that I don't even know about. This is my cosmic thing so it's a little hard to explain. It's a collision of energy between the audience and myself and every night it's different."
It rings so true for us, being the U2 audience, and it is very canny of her to say that people have experiences involving her that she doesn't even know about. Many of us feel that we know Bono (or the others) very well, and some of that is him and the fact that we have been in his company a few times, but a lot of it is in our own minds. By that I mean, U2 and their music is significant in our lives for a whole number of reasons, and it plays as our soundtrack as we go through life. We associate certain events with the band, and they are comfortable friends for many reasons.
Their music can give us so much: a definite peace in troubled times; a window on the world and its troubles that we might not have noticed were it not for them; a group of friends that we cherish and may never have met otherwise. Little wonder then that they are so significant to us, and often it is hard to separate the fantasy from the truth, and it is bound to get confused. But in a good way - for the most part, because there are the obsessive fans of course.
Bono has often said that he understands how we love the music but not him necessarily. Maybe that is modesty on his part. Because millions of us can't be wrong! Maybe we just recognise and appreciate the heart and soul that produces the music that makes us think. It makes it hard NOT to want to know the person responsible for such beauty and passion.
Just me musing today. Who would have thought that Kylie would make me do that?!
"For me it's much more than doing a show and having an audience. It's pretty much safe to say that 99% of the audience know me or have had some experience that involves me that I don't even know about. This is my cosmic thing so it's a little hard to explain. It's a collision of energy between the audience and myself and every night it's different."
It rings so true for us, being the U2 audience, and it is very canny of her to say that people have experiences involving her that she doesn't even know about. Many of us feel that we know Bono (or the others) very well, and some of that is him and the fact that we have been in his company a few times, but a lot of it is in our own minds. By that I mean, U2 and their music is significant in our lives for a whole number of reasons, and it plays as our soundtrack as we go through life. We associate certain events with the band, and they are comfortable friends for many reasons.
Their music can give us so much: a definite peace in troubled times; a window on the world and its troubles that we might not have noticed were it not for them; a group of friends that we cherish and may never have met otherwise. Little wonder then that they are so significant to us, and often it is hard to separate the fantasy from the truth, and it is bound to get confused. But in a good way - for the most part, because there are the obsessive fans of course.
Bono has often said that he understands how we love the music but not him necessarily. Maybe that is modesty on his part. Because millions of us can't be wrong! Maybe we just recognise and appreciate the heart and soul that produces the music that makes us think. It makes it hard NOT to want to know the person responsible for such beauty and passion.
Just me musing today. Who would have thought that Kylie would make me do that?!
Friday, 11 May 2007
VIPs for a day. Checking out of The Clarence
As Thursday eases into Friday, though it is cold outside, we are feeling no pain! Throughout the day we have consumed - between us - 3 bottles of Champagne (one of them the Spanish variety!), 4 Cosmopolitans and a bottle of wine at dinner. Now, back in our room and out of our posh frocks, we let our hair down in great style and decide to open another bottle of wine from the bar. The choice of booze is bewildering: there are Champagnes of various value, several wines, beers, and loads of bottles of spirits. We opt for a French red, which frankly is not the best but comparatively cheap.
We put on a U2 DVD and have a moment of contemplation and a sense of the surreal as we try to equate the man on the screen with the champagne we received at dinner. Could it really have been from him? Impossible to believe, and yet also very believable.
We spend the night talking, revelling in our surroundings..... and being very silly. All the alcohol and excitement is getting to us as we act the goat and make silly vidoes. At 4am, Sue decides to avail herself of the hot tub again, and I take a picture of her in there. The picture is wonderful and captures the moment; there is steam billowing all around her and she is there, basking in the bubbles. A great image!
All too soon, the sun comes up, and we have seen the vista outside in every stage of light, every hue and colour. The time is approaching when we will have to pack, and eventually we do, and dress ready for breakfast.
More outfits, more pictures... then we are fed and the time comes to leave. At reception as we check out, the staff again are flapping around us, and asking questions and we feel like celebrities.
Then we leave (in a lot less style than we arrived, in a normal taxi!!) and are driven back to Sandymount. Back to our flat which seems very small and poky and strangely bland after the grandeur of the penthouse.
A few hours kip, and then we decide that we must send a note to Bono, to thank him for everything and for making our trip so memorable and special. Dianne, who has the best handwriting, pens a note on Clarence paper, and we make the drive down to HQ, where it falls to me to ring the bell on the intercom.
A familiar voice comes on the speaker, and I say that I have a note for Bono. A few seconds later, Dallas, our old Kentuckian friend, appears at the door. I tell him that the note is a thank you for Bono. He asks: "And you are?" and I tell him we are the girls who stayed at the penthouse at the Clarence last night. He tells me he will make sure he gets it and as I make to leave, he adds: "I like the tint in your hair, by the way." I smile and make a mental note to tell my colourist that her red streaks are a winner! Dallas's words make me go all girly and I thank him before jumping back in the car!!
And so our adventure - 3 years in the planning - is all but over. But what memories we will take home with us. We go to dinner at Bewleys in Ballsbridge and reflect on everything.
This visit to Dublin will take some beating but, if we know Bono, he will surprise and delight us again some day.
We put on a U2 DVD and have a moment of contemplation and a sense of the surreal as we try to equate the man on the screen with the champagne we received at dinner. Could it really have been from him? Impossible to believe, and yet also very believable.
We spend the night talking, revelling in our surroundings..... and being very silly. All the alcohol and excitement is getting to us as we act the goat and make silly vidoes. At 4am, Sue decides to avail herself of the hot tub again, and I take a picture of her in there. The picture is wonderful and captures the moment; there is steam billowing all around her and she is there, basking in the bubbles. A great image!
All too soon, the sun comes up, and we have seen the vista outside in every stage of light, every hue and colour. The time is approaching when we will have to pack, and eventually we do, and dress ready for breakfast.
More outfits, more pictures... then we are fed and the time comes to leave. At reception as we check out, the staff again are flapping around us, and asking questions and we feel like celebrities.
Then we leave (in a lot less style than we arrived, in a normal taxi!!) and are driven back to Sandymount. Back to our flat which seems very small and poky and strangely bland after the grandeur of the penthouse.
A few hours kip, and then we decide that we must send a note to Bono, to thank him for everything and for making our trip so memorable and special. Dianne, who has the best handwriting, pens a note on Clarence paper, and we make the drive down to HQ, where it falls to me to ring the bell on the intercom.
A familiar voice comes on the speaker, and I say that I have a note for Bono. A few seconds later, Dallas, our old Kentuckian friend, appears at the door. I tell him that the note is a thank you for Bono. He asks: "And you are?" and I tell him we are the girls who stayed at the penthouse at the Clarence last night. He tells me he will make sure he gets it and as I make to leave, he adds: "I like the tint in your hair, by the way." I smile and make a mental note to tell my colourist that her red streaks are a winner! Dallas's words make me go all girly and I thank him before jumping back in the car!!
And so our adventure - 3 years in the planning - is all but over. But what memories we will take home with us. We go to dinner at Bewleys in Ballsbridge and reflect on everything.
This visit to Dublin will take some beating but, if we know Bono, he will surprise and delight us again some day.
No Red Bull Required - The Penthouse Suite, Clarence Hotel
Who can sleep! Not me. It's early and I am awake. Light is creeping in and I can actually hear noises from Sue's side of the room! Is she up too!? A miracle!
It's here. D Day! In a few hours we will be in the Limo. It's so exciting neither Sue nor I can contain ourselves... and... we both want to pee and it's not our turn in the bathroom yet!!!!
Everyone is handling this morning their own way, and as we shower and get dressed there is a mild hysteria in the air. We all have to share a suitcase, and Julie volunteers hers. We duly stuff it with our shoes, bags, knickers and tights. And then there are hairdryers and straighteners, and make-up, and toiletries. Oh and notebooks and presents. And clothes for lounging around in. And clothes for leaving in tomorrow. Surely we are going to forget something.
12.30 approaches and I get a phone call on my mobile - it makes me jump. It's Caroline from The Clarence, asking when we are going to be arriving. I tell her 1.30. Next thing, the house phone rings. It's Keith, the limo driver, asking for directions. Sue helps out. Then we have to wait. It seems a long and agonising wait. We pace, endlessly, round and round the living room and Dianne captures it on video. We are all nervous and excited and full of anticipation.
Eventually, I head out the door to stand and wait in the garden. Soon, I see a car, impossibly long and white and shiny, heading towards me. With the sea wall and the pale brown sand as its backdrop it looks out of place, especially when it parks up across the road from the house, half on the pavement because the road here is very narrow and the traffic is busy.
We drag out the suitcase, and all our bags and paraphernalia (our dinner dresses are in suit bags), and get into the limousine. Inside it is as mad as I imagined it to be, with mirrors and lights and dozens of glasses. We open the bottle of sparking wine and toast ourselves and the day. The driver offers to put on some Norah Jones (!) but of course we have our own plans and have brought some DVDs with us. We stick on "U2 Go Home" from Slane, and that plays as we drive through the streets.
It is so weird being in a limo! The fact that you can see out but no one can see in gives you the opportunity to gawp at people and observe them without them realising. And I never realised that people's reaction and attitude to limos can be so odd! Some ignore us completely. Some try to discreetly look out of the corner of their eye while feigning disinterest. And some react quite blatantly, either by flipping us the finger, or - as in one case - by showing gestures of respect. Maybe they wonder who is inside. Some care and some don't. It's funny.
When we get to The Clarence, men on the door at the front of the hotel start fussing around us. They open the limo door for us, help us with our bags, and lead us into the reception. There, we are greeted by a confusing array of staff, so many I can’t keep up. A man (the duty manager) welcomes us and asks if we would like to join them in the bar for a drink. We decline because we are just so excited to get into the penthouse, to have our long awaited Cosmos and get into the swing of things. He tells us that if there is anything he can do for us while we are there, then we should not hesitate to let him know.
A woman then gives us the tour of the amenities of the hotel and then takes us up to the penthouse suite. Words can’t describe my feelings as we go up in the lift and then she leads us through one of the three entrances into the suite! There is a main, double-door entrance and then a single door either side. The idea is that the whole place can be separated into three suites by locking various internal door. This may be so that the hotel can rent the penthouse out as three suites when they need to, or even so that people who book the penthouse can house their friends in privacy in various parts.
The woman shows us all the rooms, and we are just bewildered. It is so huge. When she has gone, Sue and I do the whole thing again, this time with me filming it and Sue doing her “estate agent” act, leading me around the rooms and out onto the balconies. It is such a beautiful place, and far exceeds our expectations. There is a large, modern kitchen with trendy accessories and even a dishwasher, a dining room with a table for 8 people, large living room with peat-burning stove, two bedrooms, two (and a half - mustn’t forget the little room!) bathrooms, walk in closets large enough to live in… the list goes on.
By far the most be
autiful feature of this wonderful penthouse is the 40 foot long “Gallery” that is accessed via a spiral staircase. It has a fully stocked bar at one end, a baby grand piano, two huge sofas and a chaise longue, large flat-screen TV and DVD. The whole place is lined with the wood that is the trade-mark of the hotel, and subtle, hidden lighting gives a stylish effect. At the East and West ends of the Gallery are porthole windows with fantastic views of the city. I feel Dublin all around me, wrapped around me like a cloak. Whenever I look out of the windows it is there and it makes me smile. And going out onto the long, front balcony is spectacular: the river winds away from left to right, adorned with bridges and cars and people; and there is a breeze in the air, and the sun touches my face. It's like a dream, but it's true. We are here, and it is fantastic!
With so much to see and experience, it is hard to know what to do first. We want to make the most of this and experience it to the full. First off, we have our cocktails, which have appeared as if by magic on the table in the Gallery. They are delicious and just how we like them - burnt orange peel and all!
The afternoon passes by in a haze of excitement and great experiences! There is a bottle of champagne in the living room downstairs and we are not sure if we should drink it (goodness knows how much it costs!) but we are told that it is complimentary. Mmm… strange, we think, but don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and we have it whilst basking in the hot tub on the rear balcony. It feels so decadent, and it is! It is truly how the other half live. It’s slightly cold and windy, but the sun is shining, and we have our luxuriously thick Clarence bathrobes to step into when we leave the cocoon of soapy foam.
As the afternoon wears into evening, we cover every inch of the penthouse. We sit on the balconies, particularly the front one, which stretches the entire length of the front of the building. I stand there in the bright sun and drink my champagne while across the street, on the other side of the river, passers by look up and wave, wondering who it is up here in the penthouse suite of U2's hotel. An open topped tour bus goes past and the tour guide points out the rock band's pad (I know they do because I have been on that bus!), and cameras come out and people crane to see. I feel like a celebrity up here, and know that I am far enough away so that no one can really see me!
At the back of the penthouse, accessed from upstairs in the Gallery in the bar area, is a small balcony with a table and two chairs. This looks over a large roof terrace area (The Garden Terrace Suite, we later discover) and is where U2 filmed the video for "Beautiful Day". It's funny to imagine Larry's drum kit set up, and the band singing down there.
Soon, it is time to get ready for dinner, and the best thing about this place is that there is no shortage of bathrooms or places to change, so we do it quite quickly. It's great to put on our special outfits that we had planned for months. In no time at all we are all looking very glamorous, and pose for photos on the spiral staircase.
The Tea Room is low lit and quiet when we arrive. Someone opens the door for us as we go in, and tells us we are all looking very beautiful! We get to our table, and the maitre 'd greets us and pulls out our chairs. He turns to me and says "Good evening, Ms Voisey, there is an envelope for you." and hands me an envelope that had been waiting in the middle of the table. We are all slightly curious, but inside me I have the strangest feeling. I know what this is. I have been expecting it, although there has never been any reason to. Everything happens in slow motion as I remove the note inside, and I can feel everyone's eyes on me.
On an A5 sheet of Clarence notepaper are the words - in bold black typeface - "Happy Birthday, Love Bono". I gasp and incredulously hand the note to the others. At the same second, the maitre 'd produces a bottle of champagne, and we hardly believe it so have to ask - just to be certain. It is from Bono, the champagne. To celebrate Dianne's birthday. I can't believe that he remembered, although as I mentioned, somewhere deep inside I knew he would, and would not let this go by.
For about half an hour we are all stunned and near to tears. The maitre 'd is amused but kindly discreet. It takes us ages to get around to looking at the menu, but eventually, we do and dinner passes in a kind of ecstatic haze. The main topic of conversation is obvious, but we do have the time and presence of mind to appreciate the food. My fois gras is too rich, but the main course of salmon with tomato is delicious, as is the creme brulee for dessert.
At the end of the meal (during which we can't help noticing the staff looking over and chatting to each other about us! Wondering what our connection with Bono is, no doubt!), we decide to head into The Study - the residents' bar - to finish off our wine. I ask for the bill and the waitress goes off to fetch it. The maitre 'd then collars her, and a discussion takes place and a phone call is made. Very weird! Then the maitre 'd comes over and says that the bill is taken care of! We are stunned all over again. We know the champagne is on Bono, but now it seems our wine is too.
What an evening so far! And the night is still young! When we get back to the suite, we quickly change into our lounging gear and stick a U2 DVD on the entertainment system. We plan to stay up for the whole of this experience, and have even brought a stash of Red Bull to keep us going. But our adrenaline and the excitement of having Bono very much a part of our special visit to the penthouse, makes it very easy to stay awake.
So we go out onto the balcony again and look at the lights of Dublin, twinkling red, green and white and reflecting in the black waters of the Liffey.
It's here. D Day! In a few hours we will be in the Limo. It's so exciting neither Sue nor I can contain ourselves... and... we both want to pee and it's not our turn in the bathroom yet!!!!
Everyone is handling this morning their own way, and as we shower and get dressed there is a mild hysteria in the air. We all have to share a suitcase, and Julie volunteers hers. We duly stuff it with our shoes, bags, knickers and tights. And then there are hairdryers and straighteners, and make-up, and toiletries. Oh and notebooks and presents. And clothes for lounging around in. And clothes for leaving in tomorrow. Surely we are going to forget something.
12.30 approaches and I get a phone call on my mobile - it makes me jump. It's Caroline from The Clarence, asking when we are going to be arriving. I tell her 1.30. Next thing, the house phone rings. It's Keith, the limo driver, asking for directions. Sue helps out. Then we have to wait. It seems a long and agonising wait. We pace, endlessly, round and round the living room and Dianne captures it on video. We are all nervous and excited and full of anticipation.
Eventually, I head out the door to stand and wait in the garden. Soon, I see a car, impossibly long and white and shiny, heading towards me. With the sea wall and the pale brown sand as its backdrop it looks out of place, especially when it parks up across the road from the house, half on the pavement because the road here is very narrow and the traffic is busy.
We drag out the suitcase, and all our bags and paraphernalia (our dinner dresses are in suit bags), and get into the limousine. Inside it is as mad as I imagined it to be, with mirrors and lights and dozens of glasses. We open the bottle of sparking wine and toast ourselves and the day. The driver offers to put on some Norah Jones (!) but of course we have our own plans and have brought some DVDs with us. We stick on "U2 Go Home" from Slane, and that plays as we drive through the streets.
It is so weird being in a limo! The fact that you can see out but no one can see in gives you the opportunity to gawp at people and observe them without them realising. And I never realised that people's reaction and attitude to limos can be so odd! Some ignore us completely. Some try to discreetly look out of the corner of their eye while feigning disinterest. And some react quite blatantly, either by flipping us the finger, or - as in one case - by showing gestures of respect. Maybe they wonder who is inside. Some care and some don't. It's funny.
When we get to The Clarence, men on the door at the front of the hotel start fussing around us. They open the limo door for us, help us with our bags, and lead us into the reception. There, we are greeted by a confusing array of staff, so many I can’t keep up. A man (the duty manager) welcomes us and asks if we would like to join them in the bar for a drink. We decline because we are just so excited to get into the penthouse, to have our long awaited Cosmos and get into the swing of things. He tells us that if there is anything he can do for us while we are there, then we should not hesitate to let him know.
A woman then gives us the tour of the amenities of the hotel and then takes us up to the penthouse suite. Words can’t describe my feelings as we go up in the lift and then she leads us through one of the three entrances into the suite! There is a main, double-door entrance and then a single door either side. The idea is that the whole place can be separated into three suites by locking various internal door. This may be so that the hotel can rent the penthouse out as three suites when they need to, or even so that people who book the penthouse can house their friends in privacy in various parts.
The woman shows us all the rooms, and we are just bewildered. It is so huge. When she has gone, Sue and I do the whole thing again, this time with me filming it and Sue doing her “estate agent” act, leading me around the rooms and out onto the balconies. It is such a beautiful place, and far exceeds our expectations. There is a large, modern kitchen with trendy accessories and even a dishwasher, a dining room with a table for 8 people, large living room with peat-burning stove, two bedrooms, two (and a half - mustn’t forget the little room!) bathrooms, walk in closets large enough to live in… the list goes on.
By far the most be
autiful feature of this wonderful penthouse is the 40 foot long “Gallery” that is accessed via a spiral staircase. It has a fully stocked bar at one end, a baby grand piano, two huge sofas and a chaise longue, large flat-screen TV and DVD. The whole place is lined with the wood that is the trade-mark of the hotel, and subtle, hidden lighting gives a stylish effect. At the East and West ends of the Gallery are porthole windows with fantastic views of the city. I feel Dublin all around me, wrapped around me like a cloak. Whenever I look out of the windows it is there and it makes me smile. And going out onto the long, front balcony is spectacular: the river winds away from left to right, adorned with bridges and cars and people; and there is a breeze in the air, and the sun touches my face. It's like a dream, but it's true. We are here, and it is fantastic!With so much to see and experience, it is hard to know what to do first. We want to make the most of this and experience it to the full. First off, we have our cocktails, which have appeared as if by magic on the table in the Gallery. They are delicious and just how we like them - burnt orange peel and all!
The afternoon passes by in a haze of excitement and great experiences! There is a bottle of champagne in the living room downstairs and we are not sure if we should drink it (goodness knows how much it costs!) but we are told that it is complimentary. Mmm… strange, we think, but don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and we have it whilst basking in the hot tub on the rear balcony. It feels so decadent, and it is! It is truly how the other half live. It’s slightly cold and windy, but the sun is shining, and we have our luxuriously thick Clarence bathrobes to step into when we leave the cocoon of soapy foam.
As the afternoon wears into evening, we cover every inch of the penthouse. We sit on the balconies, particularly the front one, which stretches the entire length of the front of the building. I stand there in the bright sun and drink my champagne while across the street, on the other side of the river, passers by look up and wave, wondering who it is up here in the penthouse suite of U2's hotel. An open topped tour bus goes past and the tour guide points out the rock band's pad (I know they do because I have been on that bus!), and cameras come out and people crane to see. I feel like a celebrity up here, and know that I am far enough away so that no one can really see me!
At the back of the penthouse, accessed from upstairs in the Gallery in the bar area, is a small balcony with a table and two chairs. This looks over a large roof terrace area (The Garden Terrace Suite, we later discover) and is where U2 filmed the video for "Beautiful Day". It's funny to imagine Larry's drum kit set up, and the band singing down there.
Soon, it is time to get ready for dinner, and the best thing about this place is that there is no shortage of bathrooms or places to change, so we do it quite quickly. It's great to put on our special outfits that we had planned for months. In no time at all we are all looking very glamorous, and pose for photos on the spiral staircase.
The Tea Room is low lit and quiet when we arrive. Someone opens the door for us as we go in, and tells us we are all looking very beautiful! We get to our table, and the maitre 'd greets us and pulls out our chairs. He turns to me and says "Good evening, Ms Voisey, there is an envelope for you." and hands me an envelope that had been waiting in the middle of the table. We are all slightly curious, but inside me I have the strangest feeling. I know what this is. I have been expecting it, although there has never been any reason to. Everything happens in slow motion as I remove the note inside, and I can feel everyone's eyes on me.
On an A5 sheet of Clarence notepaper are the words - in bold black typeface - "Happy Birthday, Love Bono". I gasp and incredulously hand the note to the others. At the same second, the maitre 'd produces a bottle of champagne, and we hardly believe it so have to ask - just to be certain. It is from Bono, the champagne. To celebrate Dianne's birthday. I can't believe that he remembered, although as I mentioned, somewhere deep inside I knew he would, and would not let this go by.
For about half an hour we are all stunned and near to tears. The maitre 'd is amused but kindly discreet. It takes us ages to get around to looking at the menu, but eventually, we do and dinner passes in a kind of ecstatic haze. The main topic of conversation is obvious, but we do have the time and presence of mind to appreciate the food. My fois gras is too rich, but the main course of salmon with tomato is delicious, as is the creme brulee for dessert.
At the end of the meal (during which we can't help noticing the staff looking over and chatting to each other about us! Wondering what our connection with Bono is, no doubt!), we decide to head into The Study - the residents' bar - to finish off our wine. I ask for the bill and the waitress goes off to fetch it. The maitre 'd then collars her, and a discussion takes place and a phone call is made. Very weird! Then the maitre 'd comes over and says that the bill is taken care of! We are stunned all over again. We know the champagne is on Bono, but now it seems our wine is too.
What an evening so far! And the night is still young! When we get back to the suite, we quickly change into our lounging gear and stick a U2 DVD on the entertainment system. We plan to stay up for the whole of this experience, and have even brought a stash of Red Bull to keep us going. But our adrenaline and the excitement of having Bono very much a part of our special visit to the penthouse, makes it very easy to stay awake.
So we go out onto the balcony again and look at the lights of Dublin, twinkling red, green and white and reflecting in the black waters of the Liffey.
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