The traffic lights at the crossroads immediately west of Quincentenary bridge (the only bridge over the Corrib in any way fit for purpose) have been out since Sunday morning at least.
Just did a quick Twitter search about it there now and “Thursday” is tentatively pencilled in as the day they will be working again.
I had one glass of wine on Sunday night but other than that I haven’t had any alcohol since the night of the Lakeside final when I had four cans of lager, although I was actually in Dublin that night.
I haven’t been drunk in Galway since New Year’s Eve when I went out at the very sensible time of half past midnight after staying in up to that in order to win that INTERNET argument where @maroonandwhite lost the plot.
Clarinbridge used break my heart when I lived up Gaillimh way. Think you’d finally achieved freedom heading home of a Friday evening and you’d see that reservoir tower off in the distance and a long line of red lights ahead of you, soul-destroying.
*clarinbridge can be swapped for any town, parish or club anywhere within the county, with distance inversely proportional to the venom with which said town/parish/club title is spat out.
Rent seems quite expensive in Galway, guys. Much more than I anticipated anyway as I will not entertain sharing with anyone and will only take a lease out on my own place. 1 bedroom apartments seem to be fetching about €900 p/m which seems excessive, this is the lowest of what seems to be an anywhere near decent apartment.
Should I just buy a fucking place there? A mortgage would be about half the price of that in Galway I would say.
All you need to know about galway club hurling is encapsulated in players from that great portumna side, who would have been the pride of most counties, being told they should fuck off back to Tipp by opponents.
Ah lovely.
Did that not have less to do with their geographic location and more to do with the fact they had a Tioperary man playing center back? Of course they could just as easily have been called Limerick cunts based on that logic. There’s nothing that boils the piss more in club hurling than a few blow ins playing for the opposition.