Tommy Ten Years On
Without Prejudice
It seems to take ten years to think of an ex in a good way. After the rancour, bitterness, lost dreams of a dreaded split. What do I remember of Thomas Neville Irvine from Palmerstown, Dublin? Simply everything. His adoration, his infamous sex drive, his generosity, his massive drinking capability, his wit, his education, his mental stimulus. Someone remarked once we were better friends than lovers. How much if that is true and how much is fiction?
We met at Molly Blooms one hot afternoon on the 15th January, 1995, Port Melbourne. He was drunk and I was over sober. He lobbed himself into a chair next to me and if I had a can of mace in my bag at that stage I would have sprayed it. But I didn 't. He fascinated me as he was such a mess but still talking.
I never so much as looked in the direction of another man for the ten years I was with him. I didn't find I needed to. He was loving, affectionate, sexual and he healed me from the past. He also was like Brendan Behan on steroids. His drinking capacity could outmatch anyone I have known or heard of. He was dry witted, and could be scathingly snobbish at times about his intellect
That attracted me like nothing else. We were alike in our mental capacity. He was the infinite brain and together we didn't ever have to fill in gaps in conversation. We always talked, we knew how to make the mental connection, knew what the other felt. When you are that brainy it's a lonely world sometimes. With Nev I never had to dumb it down. We blended as easily as if we had been born each others twin.
He was with someone else when I first met him and within weeks we were fiercely in lust and love. I had regarded him as just a one night stand at first. But he was besotted and wouldnT give up until I insisted he tell his girl friend and spend some time on his own. His fervor worried me, but slowly he drew me in to his world. The Irish world. The accent is still my most preferred apart from the Scots one.
We meandered on hot Sundays around St Kilda, drunk on beer and love. We sang badly, together as we ran on and off trams in the heat. Warbling "I've got you under my skin" and stopping at every lamp post to kiss. We ended up at The Windsor Castle with its pink elephants on the roof and Nev's bike chained to a post by the Landlord.
We drank more beers with the South Yarra Soccer Club, Nev playing in the reserves and kicking left footed. He was loved and revered there. They played at Fawkner Park in all weathers, freezing mostly. Chappy was there and Jimmy The Butcher, Lenny was alive then. Dec, Peter of the "To be born British is like winning the first prize int lottery of life" quote.
The Windsor was all sticky brown carpet and a small t.v. In the corner. A beer garden where we sat even on the hottest days. And enebriated I would drive home, the windows down for a relief from the heat. And I would always make it home in one piece.
We went to Brighton on Sundays to read the papers and have the best cappuccinos and frozen yoghurts in Melbourne. He introduced me to art house cinema at Cinema Europa and The George and Trak. Other Sunday's were spent at South Melbourne Market. He cooked delicious meals and did all the grocery shopping as he thought I was "shite" at it. I introduced him to Dips Tavern. Forever after it was our favourite restaurant.
He loved anything Johnny Depp and we saw all of his movies. We watched English shows on Foxtel and soccer. We both loved Jonathon Creek and he loved The Bill and BBC radio. Magic Fm. He hated shopping with me with a passion. He wasn't sure if he liked my cat, Taz, and always called her "she". He liked dogs, especially German Sheperds, lots if meat, red neat, hated pasta with a passion. He was insatiably romantic and sexual.
I once offered him 200 dollars to stop nudging me in bed after I had an operation. He had no licence when I met him and I made him get one. We bought two houses together, one in Clayton and one in Noble Park. He thought my kids were too needy of their Mother. But offered to take Kyle aged 6 and I to see Toy Story.
We went together to Ireland twice, one a driving holiday. His Mother lived in a stunning three story house in Dublin. He took me to the theatre there and shopping in Grafton Street and breakfast at Bewleys with white and black pudding. And we walked around the grounds of Trinity College and saw The Book Of Kells. We tramped all over Dublin, drunk sometimes and sometimes slavering with The Goo upon us. I learned that shopping was messages and he really did say Tanks instead of Thanks.
I introduced him to light entertainment and tried to explain soaps to him. He replied that it was enough he was watching it, never mind explaining it. He was direct and he would be straight out with it if he had something to say. He went into shock when he found out his artist sister was gay. He was the oldest in his family and had 3 younger sisters, all back in Ireland. He didn't think Irish women that attractive and were sexually repressed. His favourite movie was Educating Rita and fancied himself as the Michael Caine character.
He.made me sit down and watch Pulp Fiction and I only had to leave the room once. He called me The Auld One or The Darling, as in The Darling Is Here. He didn't care if I had a cold or looked like hell, he loved me, just as I was. But and its a big but, the drink destroyed us. He tried everything to get the monkey off his back. I went with him to AA, which he hated, he tried Antabuse. I went to Al Anon to see how I could help. But in the end, he couldn't give it up.
So we parted. He bought me a brand new washing machine and gave me a car, Cedric, his old blue bird station wagon. I had coveted it for ages. We kept in touch for a long time and he is now married I am so happy for him. I wish he had been able to get hold of the drinking but for me and for then it wasn't to be. I will always wish him well.
It seems to take ten years to think of an ex in a good way. After the rancour, bitterness, lost dreams of a dreaded split. What do I remember of Thomas Neville Irvine from Palmerstown, Dublin? Simply everything. His adoration, his infamous sex drive, his generosity, his massive drinking capability, his wit, his education, his mental stimulus. Someone remarked once we were better friends than lovers. How much if that is true and how much is fiction?
We met at Molly Blooms one hot afternoon on the 15th January, 1995, Port Melbourne. He was drunk and I was over sober. He lobbed himself into a chair next to me and if I had a can of mace in my bag at that stage I would have sprayed it. But I didn 't. He fascinated me as he was such a mess but still talking.
I never so much as looked in the direction of another man for the ten years I was with him. I didn't find I needed to. He was loving, affectionate, sexual and he healed me from the past. He also was like Brendan Behan on steroids. His drinking capacity could outmatch anyone I have known or heard of. He was dry witted, and could be scathingly snobbish at times about his intellect
That attracted me like nothing else. We were alike in our mental capacity. He was the infinite brain and together we didn't ever have to fill in gaps in conversation. We always talked, we knew how to make the mental connection, knew what the other felt. When you are that brainy it's a lonely world sometimes. With Nev I never had to dumb it down. We blended as easily as if we had been born each others twin.
He was with someone else when I first met him and within weeks we were fiercely in lust and love. I had regarded him as just a one night stand at first. But he was besotted and wouldnT give up until I insisted he tell his girl friend and spend some time on his own. His fervor worried me, but slowly he drew me in to his world. The Irish world. The accent is still my most preferred apart from the Scots one.
We meandered on hot Sundays around St Kilda, drunk on beer and love. We sang badly, together as we ran on and off trams in the heat. Warbling "I've got you under my skin" and stopping at every lamp post to kiss. We ended up at The Windsor Castle with its pink elephants on the roof and Nev's bike chained to a post by the Landlord.
We drank more beers with the South Yarra Soccer Club, Nev playing in the reserves and kicking left footed. He was loved and revered there. They played at Fawkner Park in all weathers, freezing mostly. Chappy was there and Jimmy The Butcher, Lenny was alive then. Dec, Peter of the "To be born British is like winning the first prize int lottery of life" quote.
The Windsor was all sticky brown carpet and a small t.v. In the corner. A beer garden where we sat even on the hottest days. And enebriated I would drive home, the windows down for a relief from the heat. And I would always make it home in one piece.
We went to Brighton on Sundays to read the papers and have the best cappuccinos and frozen yoghurts in Melbourne. He introduced me to art house cinema at Cinema Europa and The George and Trak. Other Sunday's were spent at South Melbourne Market. He cooked delicious meals and did all the grocery shopping as he thought I was "shite" at it. I introduced him to Dips Tavern. Forever after it was our favourite restaurant.
He loved anything Johnny Depp and we saw all of his movies. We watched English shows on Foxtel and soccer. We both loved Jonathon Creek and he loved The Bill and BBC radio. Magic Fm. He hated shopping with me with a passion. He wasn't sure if he liked my cat, Taz, and always called her "she". He liked dogs, especially German Sheperds, lots if meat, red neat, hated pasta with a passion. He was insatiably romantic and sexual.
I once offered him 200 dollars to stop nudging me in bed after I had an operation. He had no licence when I met him and I made him get one. We bought two houses together, one in Clayton and one in Noble Park. He thought my kids were too needy of their Mother. But offered to take Kyle aged 6 and I to see Toy Story.
We went together to Ireland twice, one a driving holiday. His Mother lived in a stunning three story house in Dublin. He took me to the theatre there and shopping in Grafton Street and breakfast at Bewleys with white and black pudding. And we walked around the grounds of Trinity College and saw The Book Of Kells. We tramped all over Dublin, drunk sometimes and sometimes slavering with The Goo upon us. I learned that shopping was messages and he really did say Tanks instead of Thanks.
I introduced him to light entertainment and tried to explain soaps to him. He replied that it was enough he was watching it, never mind explaining it. He was direct and he would be straight out with it if he had something to say. He went into shock when he found out his artist sister was gay. He was the oldest in his family and had 3 younger sisters, all back in Ireland. He didn't think Irish women that attractive and were sexually repressed. His favourite movie was Educating Rita and fancied himself as the Michael Caine character.
He.made me sit down and watch Pulp Fiction and I only had to leave the room once. He called me The Auld One or The Darling, as in The Darling Is Here. He didn't care if I had a cold or looked like hell, he loved me, just as I was. But and its a big but, the drink destroyed us. He tried everything to get the monkey off his back. I went with him to AA, which he hated, he tried Antabuse. I went to Al Anon to see how I could help. But in the end, he couldn't give it up.
So we parted. He bought me a brand new washing machine and gave me a car, Cedric, his old blue bird station wagon. I had coveted it for ages. We kept in touch for a long time and he is now married I am so happy for him. I wish he had been able to get hold of the drinking but for me and for then it wasn't to be. I will always wish him well.
