Just a little update to let you know that I am still alive and haven’t drowned in a pint of Guinness somewhere.
Hey Queen Machines!!!
Ireland. What can I say? I told my Irish friend that I was nervous to go on their breakfast show in case I get thrown under some ‘fuck you’ bus, like we all know that the media loves to do..
He responded with “Are you kidding? No chance, all your gonna get is the Irish welcome, they are the most welcoming people in the world and they’ll make you feel nothing but at home.”
So that kind of sums up my entire trip to Ireland, they made us feel nothing but at home. And in a strange way, I was home.
I brought my dearly departed father’s ashes with me to spread over the memorial site of one of the greatest battles of the rebellion of 1798. My 7th great grandfather was a leader in that rebellion and I spent a good majority of my life listening to Irish tales spoken from my fathers passionate lips about the rebellion and what it means to fight for freedom.
My sister and I threw them out over Vinegar Hill and I closed my eyes letting go of everything, letting go off my recent stresses regarding the breakdown of my marriage and the beginning of a new relationship, letting go of the anxiety that the internet trolling brings me, letting go of the stress and guilt that looking after 4 kids brings me constantly, letting go of my own reflection in other peoples eyes…. But never once letting go of the one thing I was throwing to the wind, my dad.
A freedom fighter until the end, who’s life was one great reminder that going against the grain was never going to be easy.
And for a brief second I just breathed him in, I let him be proud of me and, like I used to do as a kid who had just drawn a fuck-off picture of a cat, I gloated to him. I owned it, I knew that he backed it and loved it.
The kids went to see their dad who was also in Ireland, as hard as saying goodbye I needed the damn break, travelling with them is enough to turn anyone. One of the trolls said that I’m the kind of mum who would throw her kids in the bin at the airport once her valium wore off… I kind of agreed lol.
I remember from last time that I broke up with my husband, three years ago, that there is an overwhelming urge to get competitive with your estranged partner. Asking your kids.… “what kind of things did you do?” or “Are you happy to be back with me?” and the old, “did he ask about me?” I fought the urge off, life is confusing enough without being the ball that your tennis playing parents smash from side to side.
We drove the Ring of Kerry, never have any of us seen such beauty. And being from Western Australia Id like to think we are a hard tribe to please. However we were awe inspired. Ireland literally took our breath away.
Even the elderly folk stopped to chat to us, ask us how old our kids are, what their names are and don’t get me started on the rad bitches that rocked up to our shows. Warm, fun as fuck and connected to each other in ways that could only be understood by the people in the room with us.
It was emotional, it was superb. I really hope I get the opportunity to tour Ireland again and am so grateful that they had me.
The kids are happy, they are stoked. Surrounded by family, spending a lot of time with their dad again this week. They are also getting to know my new partner and his kids and loving every second of that. You can follow his blog here…
For every ethical referee that trolls the internet demanding that you live your life by their standards there is a queen who’s walked down a similar path and celebrates your happiness.
I feel like I am living somewhat of a dream and am petrified of waking up.
Thank you Ireland. We love you.
Today is Bristol, Im expecting some freaky shit.
Lots of Love. Con.