I don't believe it!!

I thought we'd seen the last of Fabia, Bepe's on/girlfriend and then I come home last night and what do I find? Fabia! All 35 kilos of her. She's come over for the Rugby match!! I mean, come on, does the girl even like rubgy? Not that I care, but I've heard that Ireland is a sure thing for winning, so maybe the idea is that she's come over to console him? Match is on Saturday; I don't know how long she's staying. But once again our tiny bathroom is full of her lingerie, which needs to be handwashed, and drip-dried.

I raised my brows meaningfully at Bepe when she left the room at one stage last night, and he whispered that they are not back together it's just "a thing" so whatever that means...

Sure am glad I have a Boyfriend now; at least I can go out every evenng she's here, or at least the evenings he's not with his daughter.

So it's February in Dublin and of course the average visitor is thinking of...what? St.Bridget's day? Saint Valentine? The first dusting of snowdrops and crocuses in the city's parks? Well, sure. All of the above. But also, I've found out Chinese New Year! Obviously! Well, there are Chinese people all over the world, and Dublin is no exception. In the neighbourhood where I live, there are some fantastic Chinese supermarkets and just around the corner, the cutest family: Irish Mom, Chinese Dad and a pretty little girl with long jet-black hair, dark eyes and those resilient Irish freckles.

As Dublin is the sort of place where everyone jumps on the slightest excuse to have a party or go to the pub, Chinese New Year has joined the roster of festivals. As a lot of it is going to be taking place near my apartment, I'm in.

Well...I should get back to work. I want to finish early today. I've invited a few people over to my apartment for dinner (yes, it's crowded enough at the moment, but the only way I can deal with Fabia is to retaliate and bump up the numbers of not-annoying people around me) and as cooking is a major hassle for me, I need a lot of time to sort it out. No idea what to make. There's a butcher on Moore Street who sells pigs heads which, OK, look kind of disgusting but I've read are traditional and as I'm not a vegetarian, seems picky to eat one bit and not another of an animal. No idea how to cook one though.

Dance envy

I had a great weekend. After saving my cents every day this week, I managed to get to a couple of ticketed events at the Traditional Music Festival in Temple Bar. They were great, don't get me wrong, but what surprised me was that the highlights, at least for me, were the free events. Sunday afternoon, there was Ceili dancing on in Meeting House Square. The band was called the Kilfenora Ceili Band and they rocked. I grew up with quite a lot of similar music around me but these guys were among the best I've heard. Well, they started, and you could see everyone WANTING to dance but being shy to start. Then a young guy and a young girl did some free style Irish dancing. "Shan Nose" I think they called it. I don't know what that means.

Here's the funny thing. I think a lot of people don't realise how sexy Irish dancing can be. The guy was a skinny, fairly ordinary nice looking man maybe in his early 20s. I mean, he looked fine, but you wouldn't necessarily notice him on the street. Then he started to dance and suddenly he was all you could see. The girl danced second and then they danced together. She was gorgeous. Wish I could dance like her. Wish I looked like her. Heck, I wish I was her.

Anyway, after a while everyone was dancing and although I have two left feet, I even dragged my Boyfriend up to try.

Something you gotta love about the Dubliners is that they like their outdoors festivals, all year round. It's like they're saying: "OK, so it's northern Europe and it's cold, but we're not gonna let that stop us having a good time." After the Ceili on my way to a hot whiskey, I passed a Punch and Judy show with live music and a children's playground.

Back home, I am living in a sea of green, white and red. Why? you ask. Well, the Ireland v. Italy rugby match is coming up and I live with one of the biggest rugby fans from Italy, apparently. Bepe has tickets.

Nightmare. I'm expecting to come every night this week to a teeny-tiny living room crammed to the rafters with over-excited Italian boys discussing the match. And it hasn't even happened yet. I can't imagine how bad it's going to be if they win. Or lose.

It's February. That means Valentine's Day. I've always been one of those lame people who says she hates Valentine's Day while secretly hoping that someone will do somethind wildly romantic for her. You know the type.

Hilarious and rather Gothic Valentine factoid: Dublin is actually home to some of the body parts of the original St Valentine!!! Too cool. Check it out.

What I'm thinking though is that maybe it's time I was a liberated gal and organised something for my man, instead of waiting for him to thrill me...you know? But I don't want to be hokey, and I can't spend a lot of money.

Last of all, something odd and unexpected: My Uncle Joey is moving to Ireland. Not Dublin, for which I am slightly grateful. I love him and all, but...

No, he is moving to stay with his buddy in Wexford. He says the fishing industry may have its problems in Ireland but it's sure as heck better than back home. But the oddest thing of all was that I think he's actually moving IN with his buddy. As in, going all Brokeback Moutain on us.

Maybe I am jumping to conclusions and putting two and two together and getting five, but it all came to me in a flash. And you know, he never did get along with that ex-wife.