| Maximo Park Diary Entries |
| These are diary entries by Maximo Park members from the Official Maximo Park Website. |
Limerick Memories |
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| 07 Feb, 2006 |
I'm on a train, writing.
A thin-looking frost scatters the land, appearing between crops and shrubs.
Everything iced.
A river pulls its way through a mousehole bridge lodged into the lolloping grasslands.
Anyway, I remember Limerick.
Past a church with its bells clattering against each other. A tree trunk has the most incredible shape to it. It looks like someone tried to wrench it from the earth and then gave up halfway through.
Stad feach. Or stop look.
Choose which side of the road to cross.
An ancient stone bridge arcs eight times and the icy clarity of the sky allows eight perfect ovals to be seen in the water. Behind are the hills, hidden by smoke spewed out of family homes. A castle dips a corner into the Shannon. It is rounded at its edges and the grass around it is angled, giving it the impression of subsidance.
Little yellow triangles pop out of the water with exclamation marks printed onto the thin, tin signs. The river is fairly still and they look like Disney cartoon characters making cameos in a David Lean movie.
All the pubs look like Irish pubs, but that's because they are.
Gaelic writing for gas boards, books on Roy Keane in closed book shop windows.
Nothing opens til 11. Its Sunday.
The stillness could be stifling, but in these searching moments it is close to sublime.
Traffic is occasional. People, mostly men, on their way to play football or rugby or whatever. Last week's muddy boots are probably sat on the back seat in a plastic bag, damp and eager.
Paul And The Park |
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