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A Different View

Eau d’adolescence – or the smell of your average teenager!

Dave O'Connell

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A Different View with Dave O’Connell

The Undertones may have famously believed that teenage dreams are hard to beat – but teenage smells are a different matter altogether.

If you power hosed them ten times a day and scrubbed them raw with carbolic soap, the unbeatable powers of galloping hormones would still render your fight a futile one.

The natural smell of a male teenager is a pungent cocktail of stale sweat and Lynx, an anti-perspirant spray that purports to smell of Africa, Vice or Dark Temptation – whatever they might be when they’re at home.

But, to the middle-aged nose at least, the only smell of Africa they actually give off is the one you might get from animal dung that has hardened over several days in the sub-Saharan sun.

And still the average teenager remains convinced that a toxic fug sprayed from a canister will somehow win the war against the sweaty stink emanating from your arm pits.

In the fight against sweat, they see underarm deodorant as their very own weapon of mass destruction. The truth is you’d be better off doing the Shake ‘n’ Vac on it.

Deodorants, by their very name, suggest they might be a way to rid yourself of a sweaty pong – but they were never more a perfume that tries to mast reality.

Equally it must be remembered that, when you are assaulted by that smell of sweat, there is actually a purpose to all of this.

The human underarm is among the most consistently warm areas on the surface of the human body, and sweat glands provide moisture, which when excreted, has a vital cooling effect.

Which is all very well until you find yourself sharing a small room with someone who has turned this cooling technique into an art form, and who consequently radiates the smell of a sports sock stuck down the back of the couch.

Teenagers, by their very nature, are not given to the pursuit any unnecessary exercise – even the simple things like putting plates and cups in the kitchen, let alone the dishwasher itself; or picking up clothes off the floor; putting football gear into the wash; or indeed simply lifting themselves off the couch.

So it shouldn’t be any great surprise that a thirty-second spray of toxicity is infinitely preferable to ten minutes under the water in a shower, which would then involve having to dry yourself – and ultimately spraying on the same deodorant anyway. 

But then again in their defence, we thought the same thing about Brut – or Hi-Karate, the self-proclaimed budget aftershave of the seventies which had the double benefit of clearing your sinuses and sealing your scarred skin after you’d removed half your face with a rusty razor.

For more, read this week’s Connacht Tribune.

 

Connacht Tribune

Saw Doctors – 30 years turning the ordinary into extraordinary

Dave O'Connell

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You know you’re getting older when you doze off during the evening news and you wake up during Reeling in the Years – and you can no longer see the joins between one and the other.

It was the same sort of feeling last week when the Saw Doctors marked the 30th anniversary of the day I Useta Lover topped the Irish charts. Could it really be that long ago? Were our glory days now consigned to history?

Times flies, whether you’re having fun or not – and yet, when you see it as 1990, it doesn’t seem so long ago at all.

The Saw Doctors were the soundtrack to our younger days; pure Galway voices singing songs about Red Cortinas and Presentation Boarders, Clare Island and the N17; finding the extraordinary in the ordinary.

Their detractors dismissed their music as agri-pop, but they just missed the point. Bruce Springsteen built a career singing about Asbury Park – so why not a Galway band singing about Galway?

Of course they’re not to everyone’s taste and that’s fine, but to dismiss them as irrelevant is a different thing; they never played a gig that didn’t send the crowd home happy.

Even now, ten seconds into I Useta Lover and you’re smiling because they caught the symbolism of simple things in a way that few have before or since.

They weren’t just a Galway band – not least because about half of them weren’t from Galway – and they weren’t just an Irish band. I’ve seen them play in parts of the UK where the Irish haven’t a foothold and yet the crowd got them.

Because they knew how to entertain and have the craic – but they were also deadly serious about their art.

Read the full column in this week’s Connacht Tribune.

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Connacht Tribune

Ironing out those creases for one last and final time

Dave O'Connell

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Dave O'Connell

A Different View with Dave O’Connell

I was ironing our eldest son’s tee-shirts for the last time on Sunday night, and watching the telly as a young Sinead O’Connor, resplendent with those big eyes and a buzz cut, was singing Nothing Compares 2 U on The Late Late Show, back in 1990.

This was the last time, because, at the age of 22, he’s finally moving out – not emigrating or even leaving Galway, but living away from home for the first time nonetheless.

There was no great symmetry to the fact that the soundtrack to the ironing was LLS highlights from back in Gaybo’s day, because Cian wasn’t even born for another nine years after Sinéad was number one.

But I do remember the first time I ironed anything belonging to him. It was half-a-dozen tiny vests and baby-grows that were too small to turn an iron in. All of them dried on one radiator.

He wasn’t even home from Holles Street then, but he was going through these tiny outfits like Imelda Marcos used to go through shoes.

Then, as now, there wasn’t really any point in ironing his clothes – only, for some inexplicable reason, I kind of liked doing it.

Coming from a generation who pressed their jeans – on the seams, in my defence; not with a frontal cease – I think this ironing obsession caused more embarrassment than appreciation over the years.

Over the years, we graduated from the tiny vests and baby-grows to the trousers will frontal fasteners and – as training advanced – to those big-boy dungarees that only opened by unfastening the straps.

You can signpost some of the big occasions through ironing; the shirt for the First Communion, Confirmation, Debs; the suit-trousers for similar days.

For more, read this week’s Connacht Tribune.

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The Connacht Tribune Live app is the home of everything that is happening in Galway City and county. It’s completely FREE and features all the latest news, sport and information on what’s on in your area. Click HERE to download it for iPhone and iPad from Apple’s App Store, or HERE to get the Android Version from Google Play.

 

 

 

 

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Connacht Tribune

New rules may only add to the strain when you take the train

Dave O'Connell

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Dave O'Connell

A Different View with Dave O’Connell

There’s an old notion about adversity being the mother of opportunity – providing a chance to force through regulations that, in any other circumstances, might quickly bite the dust.

And that might go some way to explaining the diktat from the Welsh Government to its country’s bus and train users last week.

On foot of that, from now on, there is to be no more running for the bus or train; no more singing on them either if you make it on; no more eating, drinking, talking on the mobile or reading newspapers – unless you do it in complete monastic silence.

Some of it makes sense of course in the current climate, but more of it just tackles age-old irritations.

It’s true that nobody likes a loudmouth three rows up who is giving a running commentary down the phone – either about their journey (“we’re passing through some ghost town in Hicksville now”) or on their adventures last weekend.

We’ve all sat there, forced to endure the backstory to an event that didn’t last half as long as the analysis, when we’re just trying to mind our own business or read a book or the paper.

When you were still allowed to read the paper.

Equally, we’ve all been stuck beside someone with a particular penchant for Pringles or for extra-strong cheese and onion, where the smell is only surpassed by the cracking of the crisps themselves – invariably through a wide-open gob.

We’ve all tried to move to another carriage when a hen party jumps on board and attempts to regale one and all with off-key version of Sweet Caroline and the tribulations of Living Next Door to Alice.

So, thumbs up to our Celtic cousins for using Covid to tackle some of the great problems of our time.

But the reality is that most people on a bus or train immediately slap on the headphones or earbuds, and listen to music or watch a movie – bothering nobody until they reach their destination.

For more, read this week’s Connacht Tribune.

Get the Connacht Tribune Live app

The Connacht Tribune Live app is the home of everything that is happening in Galway City and county. It’s completely FREE and features all the latest news, sport and information on what’s on in your area. Click HERE to download it for iPhone and iPad from Apple’s App Store, or HERE to get the Android Version from Google Play.

 

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