Close...but no Cigars

I witnessed this first hand myself on the internet and you would not believe what happened next!

Artists Impression

So these foreign looking fellas came flying out of the mosque probably, which we never wanted built in the first place, drunk on jihadi rhetoric no doubt, and unable to blow themselves up quickly enough, they did the next best thing and blocked a cycle lane in Blanchardstown just as this vulnerable Irish woman (presumably Irish due to the bouncing mass of elasticated ginger Irish-dancing curls, with arms and face covered in freckles) cycled innocently and serenely towards them singing the Irish national anthem in her head. 

♫♫ Sinne Fianna Fáil ♫♫

This poor useless wretch of a woman was forced to stop and terrified as she was (sure who wouldn’t be?), asked the terrorists very calmly and nicely using her phone voice to move out of the way, “sorry lads, but you wouldn’t mind moving out of the way there would ye now thanks very much?"... "Because you’re actually blocking the cycle lane did you know that?” she womansplained.  



The illusive #39 that's always packed by the time it get's to Cabra

They obviously didn’t understand Northside English, being foreign and all, as they ignored her pleas and waited a good 20 minutes for a number 39 bus before collectively pushing her in front of it.  This is totally unacceptable and I would ask the local community to report all such incidents to the Gardai.  I mean, 20 minutes waiting for a bus!  FFS. 

Anyway, as the story goes, this imaginary woman was prevented from going to the shops by these non-Irish looking mosque-dwelling women-cyclists haters, and something needs to be done about it, so I’ve put together a “prove your Irish or I’ll burst ye!” questionnaire:

Question 1.      Who do Irish people hate the most?  Is it:

a.      Priests

b.      Nuns

c.      The English

Question 2.      Who was responsible for the potato famine?  Is it:

a.      Priests

b.      Nuns

c.      The English

Question tree.      How many years of oppression by our English overlords?

a.      700

b.      Over a million

c.      1066

Question 4.      Who's the king of the fairies?

a.      Bono

b.      Michael D. Higgins

c.      Gerry Adams

Question 5.      What do the Irish love the most?  Is it:

a.      Going to mass

b.      Cups of tea

c.     The English Football teams

This blight on the normally safe streets of some parts of Blanchardstown only started happening since Brexit, so that’s another thing we can blame on the English, who as it happens, also qualify as foreigners.  No surprise there then.

Sin abhaile go dhi amach go lore ar fad, tiocfaidh ar bus mah shea du hul eh?

Master Chef

It's probably the culinary themed blogs I've been posting lately that has people stopping me in the street saying "Hey, you there...are you going on Masterchef or what?".

Sadly though, the ability to bake a world class Victoria sponge, however perfect, or a cheese cake fit for champions, isn't enough of a repertoire when it comes to appearing on national telly-vision Ireland (RTE in Irish) as a contestant on Masterchef.

Question: what has lunch today with the wife, Masterchef Ireland, modern day business computers and Nigella Lawson got in common?

No?

Here's what.

This evening (Tuesday 18th March 2014) on RTE television, a friend of ours will be appearing on Masterchef Ireland.  So be sure to watch that tonight (and tomorrow) instead of Coronation Street or whatever, and tune into some proper telly to cheer Nessa on, or catch up on RTE iplayer.

So, earlier today, I met the wife for lunch at Le Relais de Venise on Throgmorton Street in the City of London, which happens to be directly across the road from what once was a J. Lyons tea room, and I think this was the last of these magnificent tea room restaurants to close it's doors in London.  To give you an idea of how big these tea rooms were, the London Trocadero used to be one.

It turns out that it was Masterchef Nessa herself who introduced the wife to Le Relais de Venise, and I seriously recommend it if you like meat, fries, red wine and walnut salad, because that's all they do.

It was while I was sitting there gazing lovingly out the window behind the wifes head, that I spotted an old dusty sign for J. Lyons & Co.  I then proceeded to educate the wife with my superior intellect, and explain to her that J. Lyons were once upon a time not only the market leader in tea room entertainment, but were also the first company to use a computer in a commercial sense with the LEO I computer (LEO = Lyons Electronic Office).

After the tea room business dried up, LEO evolved and eventually became part of ICL (International Computers Limited), who were the British competition to IBM, but were never going to win that one, and ICL have themselves disappeared into the computing giant that is Fujitsu.

Nigella Lawson?  Well apparently she's descended from one of the founders of J. Lyons & Co, so we should give thanks to them for giving us business computers and Nigella.

So back to the here and now and tonight.  Watch Masterchef, and please click through to Nessa' lovely new blog and Twitter, where she's very kindly sharing her recipes so the rest of us can cook like master chefs too.

Valentines day

Valentines day, or VD for short.

What a load of rubbish.

I for one think romance should be spontaneous, and as such, I wrote my wife this poem, vis-a-v Roses are red...

Verse 1

Over the years
As my bodys got hairy
I've come to suspect
You're the underpants fairy

(Saint VD is buried on Aungier Street Dublin, very close to where myself and the love of my life used to live)

(That was a long time ago)

Verse 2

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Here, take this baby
He's just done a poo


Verse 3

It's that time of year
And I'd like to say
It's Gillians, Donnachas and this blogs
Birthday

Verse 4

Love is forever
Fame is fleeting
I wish they'd stop asking
Who's Ronan Keating?

To answer that one, here's where it all started, and he plays the guitar...allegedly

Life is a Rolo Coaster

A great dancer he is too.  Anyway, eighteen years and two children later, I marked the passing of all those many romantic years together appropriately, with a Romeo and Julietta Number 1.

Happy Valentines Day.

xx

Where I live

Believe it or not, but the part of London I live in is agrueably the most hip happening place known to man, and as such, each day, it attracts thousands of visitors from other not so hip happening places.

The majority of these transients, known as hipsters, are in their late teens and early twenties and will be on their way to a vintage shop, or to Allen Gardens to smoke spliffs, or more commonly just urinating in the street somewhere.

The more mature males will be sporting ironic moustachios and beards, lumberjack shirts and skinny jeans with loafers and no socks.

Apart from the vintage clothes scene in and around Brick lane, the artist of Hoxton, and the market stalls of Spitalfields, we also have the murderous history of Whitechapel and surrounds, plus the silk weavers and the Huguenots.

With all this going on, it's easy to miss the changes and happenings when you actually live here.  We're not here on holiday you know, so we tend not to amble around obliviously with a £500+ camera hanging from our necks, nor do we stand in the middle of the road taking another photograph of another piece of street art by another street artist that nobody really knows or cares about, unless the name is Banksy.

To be honest, I'm only living here in the vain hope that Banksy will one day discover the virgin red brick side of my house, do a doodle, thereby adding another zero to the value.

This hasn't happened yet, but recently, somebody did hang a bike-cycle wheel to the trellis on top of my back garden wall.  (Sadly not Banksy, more like Bikesy.  Aha ha...)

You're probably remembering at this stage that I was supposed to be doing a cigar and Rioja pairing, but I've had to postpone that for now as I need more time for research purposes.

Instead, I decided to grab my £500+ camera, hit the urban landscape and photograph some hip happening street art, which I'll exhibit with some cigars I got for Christmas.

I want this to be my way of saying thank you to those who got me these gifts.  You know who you are.  Think of this as my gift to you...

So let's get things moving with the wheel installation hanging from my garden wall.

It's a bit like art I suppose in that I don't understanding it and I don't know what to do with it.

The wheel with no name...

The council won't remove it and I haven't got the wherewithal to do it myself, and our estate management people are money grabbing useless leaches.

So for now it stays.

I'm not going to pair a cigar with this as it's not art.

It's just a wheel some moron locked to my trellis, so you just get to look at it and wonder why.

Maybe it is art after all...


Any who, I took these photographs today in a round trip from my house in less than 30 minutes, which should give you some idea of how much of the area is covered with this crap.



No idea who made it, but it caught my eye, so here it is.






Here's a Cohiba Behike.

Absolutely beautiful.

A masterpiece.







Next we have this thing.

Again, I have no clue what's going on but apparently art is trash and I couldn't agree more.





This is a Cuaba.

It's very big but makes sense.

It's not trash.







This is my favourite photo, and that's only because it's the cooperage entrance at the back of the old Truman brewery





This is another Cohiba.

A maduro 5

I'm planning on smoking this on Saturday.

While drinking Rioja.






Here are some more photos from my 30 minute adventure.

Those three guys against the wall are artists...

We interrupt this blog...

...to bring you this breaking news story...

Details are just coming through, but initial reports suggest that one of the worlds leading cigar blogging extraordinaires, the man behind the modern day on-line classic "Cigar Stories", may be attempting to post a third blog update in just one week.

A spokeswoman for the blogger released a statement earlier today saying "it's a bit too early to tell, and people should not be getting their hopes up"..."but you never know, stranger things have happened".

Analysts believe nothing like this has ever been attempted before, as the internet braces itself for what will no doubt be an upsurge in something or other.

We'll bring you more on this story as it comes in...

Cigar life balance

After the cheering and applause eventually died down after my last blog instalment, I decided to get busy with the next one, which is this.

With the festive season now over, I'm sure most of you are planning a bit of weight loss, so I'm going to share some pearls which should help you drop a dress size or two.

You know, people are always coming up to me in the street saying "Here you! How do you do it?  A hectic schedule and all those manly outdoorsy things you do, but you still manage to maintain that perfect physique and winning smile...tell me, what's your secret?".

Well I'll tell you my secret, and if you follow these simple instructions, you too could have a body like Ronan Keating.

Actual Size

So, the secret of being thin is...

Stop eating food.

That's it, that's all there is to it.  A bit of exercise helps, but as they say on the south side of the Liffey, "you need to cut down on your porklife".

The main thing is to stop eating white bread, potatoes and cut out all things sugary, especially sugar.

And Beer too.  Beer is bad.

Apart from being force fed Guinness when I was home in Dublin recently, I haven't had a beer since September, only wine.

Who am I to be talking to you about all this healthy stuff?  Well this is me being quoted on a health food website... Honestly Healthy ... where I recently attended a health food cookery course solely to bring balance to the outdoorsy manly stuff.

So now you know that I know what I'm talking about, even if I don't.

One of the things us beautiful people are down with at the moment is the juice diet, which leads me nicely on to the topic for today, a cigar and juice pairing.

The cigar is a tubed Romeo and Julietta No.1, which is one of about 30 cigars Gearoid recently (and very kindly) brought back from Cuba.

This was my first R&J No. 1, and as all the R&J's I've had thus far have been good smokes, this one turned out to be much the same.  Nothing brilliant but a decent smoke, with a good draw, nice TTS (that's time to smoke...I just made that up) of about one hour, good construction and a good sized stick to boot.  I'd give it 7/10.

The juice to go with this should not be enjoyed at the same time and should be polished off fairly quickly in order to gain the most health benefit, so neck the juice and enjoy the cigar with some fermented grape juice instead, just like I did.

When I say juice, notice that I'm not saying fruit juice, so leave out the apples and oranges.  Only use grapefruit, lemons and limes, and any or all of the following...

Kale, Carrot
Cucumber, Celery
Root ginger, Fennel
Spinach, Beetroot

A splash of Aloe Vera juice too will do wonders too.


Right, that's enough of that.

Next time I'll be blathering on about a proper beverage, as I've been enjoying Rioja lately and been gifted with lots of cigars over Xmas, so I'll be doing a cigar and Rioja pairing instead of this cake and juice malarkey.

Until then.  Muah.

Cigar and Cake

Hello again,

A quick recap on life.

Since early August 2013, I haven't worked a day.  Not for money that is, as in paid work, like in a job.

What have I been doing? (apart from not blogging)

Well, those of you fortunate enough to know me, probably know this already, but for those of you that don't see or hear from me as much as you'd obviously like to, will no doubt be happy to hear that I've given two fingers to the man, and struck a blow for mankind by resigning from my job of 11 years in order to look after my two children full time.

This means that the wife is the sole bread winner, but so far, she hasn't won any bread.  Not so much as a sliced pan or a batch loaf.  To be fair to her though, I'm not aware of that many competitions where bread is top prize.

So instead of bread, she's been bringing home the bacon.

At this stage, I'd like to take the opportunity to say thanks to the wife, well done, and keep up the good work.  You're doing a great job.

Obviously looking after kids and running house isn't easy, and while the wife is out enjoying herself all day, I'm stuck watching homes under the hammer and bargain hunt, so you know, it's not easy with that choice of telly.

However, I do think it's only fair that I have my dinner ready on the table for when she gets home.  I feel it's my duty now that I'm a kept man and all.

Apart from the obligatory dinner, I have tried to surprise her from time to time with my culinary delightenings.  On Tuesday for example, she had freshly baked blueberry muffins waiting for her, because I didn't have enough time to eat them all.

So for this blog, I'm going to do a cake and cigar pairing.  Not that I smoke cigars while eating cake, nor would I recommend it, although they do say you should try everything once, so why not, but this is really just to give something to those of you out there that like cake and/or cigars, and who doesn't like cake and/or cigars.

First up is a cigar that I smoked at the start of August, and one that had been resting in the humidor for over two years. 

While I'm no cigar snob, it's my opinion is that overall, Cuban cigars are better than those produced outside of Cuba, or at least that's what I thought until I smoked the Arturo Fuente Anejo.

A good sized torpedo shaped cigar with a slight box press, and a red ribbon on the foot, which was so pretty that it seemed almost a shame to smoke it.  Deep, dark and delicious. (just like me)

This particular cigar is supposed to be a rare find, apparently only released twice a year, at Christmas and Fathers day, and from the online blurb, you find that it's five year old Connecticut maduro wrapper is aged in a cognac barrel, and only the very best tobacco to be found in the Dominic Republic is used in it's construction.

All that I know is that this one of the finest cigar I have ever smoked, Cuban or otherwise.

I strongly recommend it and I'm looking forward very much to the next one, hint hint.

The cake to go with this fine cigar, according to the wife, is the best cheesecake she every tasted, and it's easy to make.  I've only every gotten it wrong once, when I used olive oil based butter instead of unsalted butter.  I know, duh!

Here we go...get 100g of good quality dark chocolate, break it up and melt with 50g of UNSALTED butter in a bowl over water.  If you want to grate some chocolate over the finished cake, keep a small bit for later.

While that's melting, crush about 200g of digestive and ginger biscuits in freezer bag with a rolling pin, and when the choc has melted, add together and mix well.  This is your base.



The topping is simply 400 to 500g of mascarpone mixed with three to four tablespoons of icing sugar, and the zest and juice of one lemon.  Mix that around well and plop on top of your biscuit base, which by now you'll have cooled a bit and smoothed firmly into your cake tin.  Carefully smooth the topping and finish by grating the reserved chocolate over the top.

Cover it in cling film and bung it in the fridge for at least four hours.  Eat within a couple of days, if it lasts that long.

Jaime Oliver who?

Remember, don't use olive oil based butter, which oozed out of the bottom of the cake, but as luck would have it though, I gave that one away to the Larkins.

That cake may not be the healthiest of options, so here's a great healthy alternative that I made last year...

Coconut flour chocolate mousse cake

Spot the Difference

Previously on Cigar Stories...

Mel Gibson shoots at helicopters with his eyes closed, and I get done for a second time with fake cigars.

Now as much as I dislike every minute of all the Lethal Weapon movies, even the ones I haven't seen, it isn't the only TV slash movie production that I have a problem with when it comes to helicopters, as Magnum P.I. caught my attention earlier today.

I have fond memories of Magnum P.I., which was one of my favourite TV shows back in the 80's.  That and Manimal. 

Tom Selleck is great, but to be honest, I don't remember much past Magnum and Higgins living together, Magnum driving a Ferrari that wasn't his, and his two mates - T.C who flew helicopters, and little Rick.

In this episode, Tom and T.C fly off to catch the bad guys, who just happen to be acting out the scene on top of some cliffs, and of course everybody knows that cliffs make it easy for helicopters to sneak up on people, and so up pops the helicopter right behind the bad guys, taking them completely by surprise. 

They weren't half as surprised as I was though when I noticed T.C had been replaced with a bank robber.

And these are the photographs of what I'm talking about...

Here we have the real Magnum P.I. and his mate T.C (and no, it doesn't stand for Top Cat).

In this picture, you can clearly see that T.C. is not dressed as a bank robber, although who knows what he might be thinking.





In the next photograph, Magnum P.I. looks normal enough, he's the same colour at least, while T.C. has turned into a white guy in a balaclava.














Skipping quickly past all the obvious jokes and stereotypes, I can't believe they thought that slapping a black balaclava on a white guy would do, whatever the reason.

Anyway...

Moving onto cigars.  See if you can spot which one is fake.

 

I'll give you a clue.  It's the bottom one.

Did you know that Manimal only ran for one series of eight episodes?  I know, mad isn't it.

Those are fake cigars!

Said I.

Oh really...

Yes.  Really.

Right...and what makes you say that?

Well I'm no expert mind, but if you look at the cigars, which are all from different Cuban houses, they all look almost identical.  That and the crappy bands on the Cohiba.

So you know a lot about cigars do you?

Well, I'm no expert ha ha ha, I think you need to check with your supplier, or maybe not your supplier, but somebody else who is an expert and not your supplier because I don't think your supplier can be trusted.

Leave it with me she said, and that was the last I heard about that.

Now, the first time I came across counterfeit cigars we were in Jordan, and low and behold, that thrilling exact word for word account you've just enjoyed also happened in Jordan, only just last week.

Not surprising then, but what is surprising was that this was my hotel, which claims five stars.

Nothing was done over the next few days, so I bought one of the cigars on offer, and in the name of science, I smoked it. 

It was fake, and now I feel a bit of a rant coming on.

After my recent self appointed senior position with the grammar police I've decided to see how much I can say in one sentence without using any punctuation marks whatsoever like as if I was talking in real life and making a point about something or other without pausing for breath while my face goes all red as the air runs out but I'm still trying to speak although its now nearly impossible but if I would just used a comma everything would just be a whole lot easier!!

What brought this rant on you ask?

Well.  Recently it's come to my annoyance that people are commenting on certain social media sites on whatever rubbish they think they have an opinion on, and they badly type up their ramblings with misspellings aplenty, and not a single punctuation mark to be seen.

And another thing, as far as I know, an ellipsis has three dots.  Not two dots or five dots, but three dots.  That's why people say dot dot dot.

And I'm starting my sentence with a conjunction.  I make my own rules.

Cuban Cigars

 

I'm back

Hi everybody.

Remember me? Well, I'm back.  By popular demand no doubt.

In case you wondered, I didn't go anywhere, I've been here the whole time.

Well not here.  Not right here.  I've obviously been places.  Not many places mind.  But a few.  Nice places mostly.

Anyway, I'm going to kick off this come back special, with a with a new cigar that arrived in the post today from C.Gars Ltd, called the Inka secret blend - Azul blue Bombaso Maduro. 

A beautiful looking budget cigar, dark and squishy, that I paired with a pressed apple and beetroot juice.

Apple and what? I hear you scream.  Pressed??  What's happening here? Is this a new me?  Healthy-not-from-concentrate fruit juice instead of unhealthy-not-from-concentrate beer juice?  Might be.

I must admit, after a recent trip to Ireland (to celebrate Gillian Doyles birthday), I felt hung-over for at least two weeks, and suffered like never before, and with the belly taking a lot more effort to keep in check these days, it was time I curbed my enthusiasm.

At least on a Tuesday evening in the garden.

The Inka was nice smoke.  A bit too strong for what I wanted at the time, and it also lasted longer than I planned, but I enjoyed it, and it only needed the odd relight and touch up along the way. 

Next time I've got a shorter stumpier cigar to report on.  So until then, and I promise I won't leave it as long next time.



The Inka

The Stinka

New Edition

No, not new edition, the nineteen eighties progenitors of the boy band revolution, but a new edition to the family.  A baby boy to be exact.  Born recently at the Royal London, Whitechapel.  A little under a week early in making his appearance, but no harm done, and so everything, including his mother, is fine.

Before I carry on, I have to say that it wouldn't be fair of me to blame my blogging tardiness on this young chaps arrival, and I do have a lengthy update that's been almost ready for over a month, but I just couldn't bring myself to finish it. 

The reason for my reticence was the negativity that dominated the post, which was down to a bad experience at Casa del Habano in Berlin.  So I'll park the negativity for now, as it goes against my natural sunny positivity, and concentrate on happier, more important things, like the new edition celebration cigars that I've been enjoying for the past two weeks.

So, without going into too much detail, the baby made a surprise appearance, and with the wife in hospital, I found myself in need of a short notice emergency babysitter for our first born, so I could be were I was supposed to be.

Joe saved the day, before handing over to my mother, who flew over from Ireland the following morning.  The day after that, and we were all home from hospital, and I could get down to the serious business of enjoying my celebration cigars.

Celebration Cigars

Seeing as I now had two sons, I decided two cigars were in order.  First up was a Cohiba Siglo VI, which was a present from Gearoid last Christmas.  He must really love me because it's a cracking cigar.

I'd been keeping it for a special occasion, and as a new child is as special as they come, it was the cigar of choice.

The Siglo VI is one of my favourite cigars.  A nice big cigar, with a perfect burn and perfect construction, and a great cigar to kick off the celebrations.

Next up was a Montecristo Open Master Eagle, which is the same size as the Siglo VI, and a fine cigar too, but not quite up to the same standard as the Cohiba, in my opinion anyway.  Still a great cigar and worthy of it's status as celebration cigar number two.

With the first days celebration out of the way, and two weeks paternity leave staring me in the face, I lined up more celebration cigars, a few of which I'll cover off now...

I apologise for the lack of picture quality in these photos, but I'm happy to say that all future photographs will most likely be taken on my spanking new Canon 650D DLSR camera, which was purchased to specific reason of sprucing up the blog. 

I obviously told the wife it was for taking baby pictures, and so far, that's all it has done, but I'm sure it will be doing it's first cigar very soon.

R&J Short Churhill

Anyway, on to the cigars.

This one, which for some reason, I've photographed with a pot of uncooked potatoes in the background, is a Romeo y Julietta short Churchill. 

A fine cigar.  Another one of my favourite cigars, and one that I highly recommend. 

This was the last one of it's kind in the humidor, so I'll be looking to stock up next chance I get.

The potatoes weren't bad either.

Vegas Robaina

This fine cigar, paired with a fine French wine, was a Vegas Robaina Unicos, and another excellent smoke.

Described as a medium to full cigar, I found it rather mild, but absolutely fantastic, and totally enjoyable.

I've been told that Robaina are known to produce the best tobacco in Cuba, and Alejandro Robaina is the only tobacco farmer to have his name on a brand, so you can't argue with that.

I do have a soft spot for these cigars, especially since that nice man in Jordan handed me one, and it was he who told me all this, including the fact that they supply Cohiba with tobacco, so it must be good.

Truth is that Vegas Robaina cigars have never disappointed, never let me down, and always remind me how good cigars can be.  The wine was a little bit lacking though.

I picked up this cigar in Ibiza.  No idea what it is, only that it's not a Cuban.

I liked the look of it, and for want of a new experience, I picked up this one, and another similar cigar but with a much lighter shade wrapper.

The other cigar was pretty good, and so was this one.

Nothing magical, but a pleasant smoke which I enjoyed to it's nub.  No heat or harshness, and good value for money.

I have coffee in the background this time.  It's decaff.  Not what I usually go for.  I'm more of a ristretto man.  (That's a in-joke between myself and George Clooney btw)

This is one of the better photos taken on the phone camera, which shows a few fridge magnets, and a Ramon Allones specially selected.

The RASS is my favourite all rounder cigar.  This one had a deep old cigar smell, which I enjoyed pre-light.

I love it when I get a cigar with that particular smell, as it isn't every cigar that I can honestly say I get a smell from, whatever that smell might be, good or bad.

This RASS is from a batch the wife bought me back in February, which were described as five year olds, so there was never any doubt this cigar was going to be excellent.

I've only got two of these left and I'll be sorry when they're all gone, so I might have to get a few more of these in too.  I'll be in touch with my man in Luxembourg regarding a shipment very soon.

Last but not least, is a photo (taken on the new camera) of the bundle of joy, myself and the wife were blessed with recently.

I'm still on paternity leave, so I'll be having at least one more celebratory cigars before the week is out.  Or more probably before the night is out.

The Magnificent Seven

Over a year ago now, myself and Jim began our epic journey together, to conquer London' magnificent seven cemeteries.  A mammoth task, even for the likes of us.

Each visit would require careful research and detailed planning, such as who to say hello to, and which local pub sold the best best bitter, and had the best beer garden (cigarden henceforth).

Before I go any further, a quick historical recap if I may...

The magnificent seven cemeteries came about when Londons dead began overflowing church grounds into water supplies, and down the new sewer system.  So with the ground literally bursting at the seams, the solution was to surround Victorian London with magnificent graveyards, while putting an end to the use of church grounds for new burials.

This was done over a ten year period starting in 1832, but it wasn't for another 150 years, until after the movie was made, that the cemeteries got their name, the Magnificent seven.

Abney park was the first site we visited, and you can read all about it here...

This time we headed for the City of London Cemetery and Crematorium.

While not a member of the magnificent seven club, it certainly has as much history, character, beauty and interest as the others, probably more in fact, and as it was easy to get to, or so we thought, we selected it as our next destination.

For the record, at the time of choosing, I had no idea that it wasn't one of the M7.

Anyway, a long story short, myself and Jim met up at Liverpool street station, on a warm and sunny morning.

We had four stops on the train ahead of us, followed by a short walk.

Eight stops later, we felt something wasn't right, and wondered if we missed our stop.

Jim checked his iphone, then announcing that we should have gotten off about twenty minutes ago.

We doubled back.

Some time later, we reached the fabulous gated front of the cemetery, and were greeted by a gentleman kitted out in the city of London uniform.

Interesting factoid this.  Even though the city of London is miles away, the grounds, which is one of the largest municipal cemeteries in Europe by the way, is still part of the city of London.  That said, you don't need to live in the city to be buried here.  It takes everybody.

We arrived, but we didn't know where to go, what with 200 acres of landscaped cemetery standing in front of us.

The gentleman enquired if he could offfer some assistance.

Gentleman: Hullo
Jim & me: Hi there, howaya. 
Gentleman: So then, who have you come here to see.
Jim: (with hand on heart)  Bobby Moore
Gentleman: Ah yes, every proud Englishmans favourite footballing hero.
Gentleman: And you Sir?
Me: Michael Barrett.
Gentleman: Who?
Me: Michael Barrett.
Gentleman: I'm afraid I don't know him.  Who was he?
Me: A Fenian.
Gentleman (scratching his head): Well, we do have some Armenians somewhere, but I'm not sure exactly where...
Me: No, I said Fee...he was the last man to be publicly hanged in England.
Gentleman:  Oh yes, I think we have him, try over there...

So off we skipped, with nothing but a vague idea and a map the gentleman had given us, in search of our heroes.

We found Sir Bobbys memorial, and a stunning little plot it was too.  The great man was cremated somewhere else, but his ashes are resting here.

We found plaques belonging to two of Jack the rippers victims, Catherine Eddowes and Mary Ann Nicols, and lots of memorials to old churches and graveyards whose inhabitants were re-interred here.

These re-interments are fascinating and a story to themselves, mostly down to the union of benefices, but the real crowd pleaser was finding the plaque to the aforementioned Fenian, Michael Barrett.

This poor unfortunate was publicly hanged for killing a load of people when trying to blow a hole in the wall of Clerkenwell prison.  An accident then, but it didn't go down well with the locals at the time, and that was pretty much that for him, and for Londoners sympathy towards the Irish cause, which did exist at the time.

There was some doubt as to his guilt too, seeing as he was in Scotland at the time of the blast, but in 1868 outside Newgate prison, they hung him anyway.

Newgate prison made way for The Central Criminal Court, which we all know as the Old Bailey, and as such, the communal lime grave was relocated to the city of London cemetery.

Fifty souls were removed and placed in a hole in the ground.  End of.

After the cemetery, we retired to the pub, ordered food, and took our beers to the cigarden.   

I blazed up my Partagas Serie D No. 4, and the resulting conversation with the bloke at the table beside us went like this...

Bloke: Wow, I thought that was a barbecue starting off..
Me:  ha ha ha
Jim: ha ha ha
Bloke: Oh it's a cigar.
Bloke: But it's not a good cigar
Bloke: I know the smell of a good cigar, and that's not a good cigar.

As Jim lights up his Partagas Petit Corona Especial.

Me: Eh yeah, it's just a Partagas
Jim: yeah, they're just cheap Cubans

So, at this stage I'm feeling suitably insulted, but I mostly hate this bloke.

Bloke (after a minute of intense silence): Well, maybe they're not the worst.
Bloke:  Yeah, their starting to smell OK after all.

With that, they all got up and left.

Bloke: Cheerio
Me: Yeah, see ya.
Jim: Bye now.

Me: What a dick
Jim: Idiot.

So, as I calmed down, we began to wonder where our food was.

Twenty minutes later, the food arrives.

It was shite.

So, as we supped our beers, and smoked our cigars, an old lady shows up and asked for a light.

We have a selection of lighters, two of which are jet lighters, so I suggest she uses the normal lighter, or risk losing her eyebrows.

Old Lady:  Is that an accent I hear?
Me: Yes it is.
Old Lady: Where from?
Me:  Dublin
Old Lady (looking disappointed): Oh...

She turns away.

Old Lady (looking back):  I thought it was North of England...

After being insulted for the second time, I reply with something nonsensical, then ask Jim if she means Manchester, or Newcastle?

That was enough of that.  We finished our pints and made our way back to Liverpool street, back to civilisation, and decided to call it a day.

Myself and Jim hope to finish the magnificent seven cemetery tour by 2017.

Bobbys Memorial

Mary Ann Nichols

Catherine Eddowes

Michael Barrett and 49 others

A re-interment memorial (nice read)

The London Olympics 2012

I know, I know, it's been ages since my last blog, but truth be told, a lot has been happening in and around the streets of London recently, and I myself have been busy with all sorts of things and stuff. 

Now that the Olympic and Paralympic games have finally ended, I decided it was time to get back on the blog.

It's been a while and I'm a bit rusty, but seeing as I'm a contender in the Irish blog awards, no doubt thanks to Cigar Loving Doorman, I though I'd increase my chances ten fold, and post something brilliant for a change.

That said, this entry might have peaked already, as I rack my brains and struggle to remember what great things I was surely up to over the past month or so.  I guess though, like most people, my main focus was of course, the Olympics games.

I didn't bother with training or anything like that.  I thought I'd just rock up and ask whats the story, any chance of competing or wha'?, seeing as I didn't get any tickets an' all!  Maybe one of the athletes has pulled out or forgotten or met with an accident perhaps? No?

Surprisingly enough, that plan didn't work, so I guess I'll just have to wait another four years until Rio.  Probably a better chance of getting tickets for that one anyway.

As mentioned, in case you didn't pick up on it, was the fact that I, like millions of Londoners, got not a single ticket I applied for. 

So as I prepared myself for a few weeks of sitting on the couch and watching the games on the telly, I wasn't feeling at all bitter when Joe phoned to say he had tickets to the Victoria Park opening ceremony party, and tickets to the boxing, if we wanted them that is.

We wanted them alright (thanks very much Joe), and first off we enjoyed the brilliant atmosphere of opening ceremony, a mile or so from the Olympic park, which had a Red Arrows fly-past, and all sorts of wonderful things going on, followed a week later by a trip to the Excel where we watched Katie Taylor box her way into an Olympic final, which she thankfully went on to win.

Comon' Ireland!!

We also got to see the legend that is Damien Duff, who seemed to be walking around a lot, more than was strictly necessary I'd say.  At the time, I thought he was just playing the crowd.  But alas, as it turned out, the poor man just couldn't find his seat.

Across a row he went, across another row, then another. 
Down to the front he went, he stopped, he asked for help.
He talked, he turned, he smiled. 
He walked back up to where he came from. 
He was right in the first place. 
Eh hello, I think you're in my seat there Mrs...


The Excel arena was full of Irish supporters, and while there, I spotted one of my teachers from school.  I hadn't seen the man since 1989, so I wasn't too sure as I wandered over to say hello.

Turned out it was him, so hello again Eamonn Doyle, and Eddie O'Hara.  Very nice talking to you  both. 

I nearly introduced Eamonn to the wife as Mr. Doyle, but as I struggled, he saved me by cutting in with Eamonn. 

Thanks Sir.

I did enjoy a few cigars on both occasions of course.  At Vicky park, I had a Ramon Allones Extra and a Partagas Petite Corona Especialle.  Both excellent, and the RA Extra proved itself an excellent outdoor smoke.


Although I also enjoyed quite a few cigars over the course of the Olympics, I've only got one worth mentioning. 

This one had been sitting in the humidor for well over about 18 months, after my Dad brought it over from Dublin, after a friend of his brought it over to Dublin from Las Vegas.

When I got my hands on it, it was terribly dry, and I didn't think it would last.  So after leaving it alone in the humidor for those 18 months, I thought I'd give it a go, and I must say, it was excellent.

Maybe it absorbed some oils or whatever from nearby Cubans, or maybe it was just excellent to begin with, either way, it was very enjoyable, and burned slowly and perfectly all the way to the nub.

The cigar came from Vato Cigars, so please click on the link and check them out if you're ever in Vegas.

There's pictures below of the cigars, the Red Arrows and the results of some baking I've been doing lately.

That's another thing that kept me quiet lately, baking.  Yes baking.  Great fun baking coconut flour chocolate mouse cakes.  And gardening.  Gardening has also been keeping me busy. 

Life in the fast lane.

Next time, I've got another eagerly awaited graveyard adventure with Jim to tell you about, a visit to Casa del Habano in Berlin, and top stories from Ibiza and Formentera.  

I know I'm excited.

Vegas Cigar

Yes, I baked that cake.

RA Extra in Vicky Park

Duffer, not one of his best

Thats a better angle

Comon' Ireland!