4. The Barrington’s Peer incident.

It’s been a while since I put an update on this site about the ongoing war at home. There have been some ferocious battles since my last blog. While Caroline has won all of the important battles to date, there is a glimmering light of hope. My stunning upset victory at the battle of honeymoon was surprising and unexpected. It reignited the inner fires that burn.

It is a story of intrigue, espionage, behind enemy lines infiltration and propaganda. Operation Codenamed "Karina H" is a story for another day. Today I have more pressing issues to deal with.

I HAVE BEEN BETRAYED.

Yes it is true, a member of the rebellion has turned their back on me. We had a traitor in our ranks that has shown their true colors and defected to the enemy. To make this betrayal all the more staggering, the traitor was my own flesh and blood, my beloved sister Emma.

To give you some background on this tale of woe you need to understand our relationship. What started out innocently when I pushed the then 18 month old Emma into the swimming pool in Majorca (nearly drowning her), escalated to Emma dropping a toy cash register on my head giving me a black eye. Sometime after this I accidentally kicked her in the head with a roller-skate while falling off my bike. (This was the moment I believe that the psychological war started.)
When I was 12 years old I confided in her that Barry Hartnett (my cousin) and I were going to cycle down to Barrington’s peer to play near the river. This is important as Mum had specifically told me I was not allowed to go there. I returned home that evening to my dearest mother waiting for me at the front door asking where I had been? This I learned in later life is a question similar to the following:

• Does my bum look big in this?
• Is that girl prettier than me?
• You don’t mind if my Mother comes to dinner?

It is a question that women ask even though they already know the answer. They ask as they know that most men (if they have any sense) will lie. In short I had been turned in. I was grounded and the power cable for the Super Nintendo taken away for a week. As we got older this rivalry disappeared and I forgot about the Barrington's Peer incident. Recent events however brought this incident back into light.

As some of you may know I have only one request for my wedding. I want to wear a red waist coat on the day. I understand that the bridesmaid’s dresses have an important part to play in this decision as my waist coat can’t clash with the bridesmaids etc etc. So this is not an easy decision to win.

That said however, when I was told my beloved sister was to be Caroline’s bridesmaid I was delighted. I finally had a “man on the inside”. This was a battle I couldn’t lose. Emma will sort out the dress color and soften the idea of red waist coats from behind enemy lines. I on the other hand would execute operation “Distract and Confuse”. The plan was to blind the enemy with extraordinary wedding requests. Doves being released when the priest says "man and wife" or J&C ice sculptures for the reception. These were to distract Caroline from the ultimate goal. She would reject all requests and concede to the red waist coat thinking “I have to let him have something”.

Needless to say you can imagine my surprise the day I discovered the deception. On the mention of my waist coat I was met with the staggering statement “Not a hope are you wearing a red waist coat. Emma told me all about it. Red won’t go with the bridesmaid’s dresses so I’m calling a VETO”.

I had been betrayed, by my own flesh and blood no less; just like the Barrington’s Peer incident. As if this wasn’t bad enough I was then sent on the pictures of the bridesmaid dress Emma had picked out for my wedding.



Emma if you are reading this you had better stay well clear of the swimming pool in the hotel. We don’t want any more "accidents"........:)

P.S. Caroline.....these are VETO'd

3. Location Location Location

3 months in, 9 to go and I’m getting worried. We have just passed the 20minute mark of the game and the opposition has been camped in my 22 since March. My scrum has collapsed, my scrumhalf is erratic and my out-halves defensive kicks to touch have repeatedly been blocked down. I seem to be suffering from Eddie O’Sullivan syndrome as my tactics and plans have blown up in my face. What’s gone wrong I hear you ask? Let me explain....

Up until very recently my understanding was that "compromise" was something that happened between two parties to resolve an impasse of some description. Person A wants to wear a black suit, person B wants to wear a white suit. This usually results in what is referred to as the "Grey Area" suit, also known as compromise. To women however compromise seems to mean something else entirely.

It all started innocently enough with a proposal being brought forward to the wedding “Comitéa”. Said proposal was for the wedding ceremony and reception to take place in the most popular, glamorous, spiritual and holiest of cathedrals in Limerick. Yes I am indeed speaking about Thomand Park. Think of this like attempting a drop goal from your own 10m line while the ref is playing advantage. Nothing to lose, slim chance or scoring, but on a windy day you’d never know.

Now I am in no way naive enough to believe that I was going to win that battle, but I figured aim high and you might get your compromise of somewhere half way. With Limerick vetoed the foot came down at the halfway point, my father’s home town of Birr Co. Offaly. My foot was also seen in many different locations along the N7 from Tipp to Kildare until it finally ended up about 15mins from Lucan in the Castleknock Hotel in County Dublin. PENALTY TRY under the posts to the bride.

This is not looking good. I need a Declan Kidney type resurrection to pull this one out of the fire. But I fear further “compromise” may be the order of the day :).

2. Seriously....

The people at the Oxford English Dictionary define a Perfect Engagement as follows:

Engagement: betrothal.
Perfect: entirely without any flaws, defects, or shortcomings.

So a perfect engagement is a betrothal that is entirely without flaws, defects or shortcomings. In other words for all us mortal men in the world it doesn’t exist. Or does it?

Is it fair to say that no matter how much planning, organising, investment, preparation, practice (for some people) you can put into the perfect moment, you are guaranteed that something will go wrong? Or is it actually possible to have that one perfect moment in time when everything falls into place. I have recently discovered from experience the answer to this question is a resounding yes.

I know what you are thinking, “do I really have to read the big soppy description of John and Caroline’s engagement and how perfect it was”. Let me assure you now that this is a cold hard factual examination of the engagement process with pros, cons, pitfalls and highlights. The advice contained below is something that I wish I had known beforehand. I now pass it on to those who may benefit from my experience.

We’ve all heard the horror stories of engagements that have gone horribly wrong. My personal favourite is the urban legend of the guy going through airport security with his girlfriend on the way to a romantic getaway. There he was waiting for his bag when a big security guard comes up to him and says “Sir is this your bag”. Upon opening his bag the security guard points to a box rolled up in a sock at the bottom of the bag. “Sir can you please open this”. To which the now panicking boyfriend replies “I’d rather not”. WRONG ANSWER bud. While the security guard is calling for backup while putting on a rubber glove, the girlfriend turns and says “What are you doing, open it up or we’ll miss the flight”. What could the poor guy do except get down on one knee, take the box out of the sock, open it and propose there and then at the airport security desk. How can this be a perfect moment I hear you ask. Well what you and I don’t know is the version of this story that was told by the now ecstatic fiance to all her family and friends on her return home.

Let me give you a more detailed example. My perfect engagement was on top of the hill at Sacre-Coeur Church, overlooking Paris at night time. You can see why from the picture below.

Some of the minor details:
• It was our 3 year anniversary
• The same weekend of Ireland vs Scotland in the 6 nations which was our first date
• Flights and accommodation was booked and paid for.
• Caroline had no idea where we were going and with a little help from my friends we had her convinced we were going to Cork (worst case) or Edinburgh for the rugby (best case).

The "plan" was to go to Sacre-Coeur as soon as we arrived on the Friday night. The reasons for this was that on Saturday we were to go and meet friends in the morning and watch the rugby during the day. When the day itself arrived (Friday 13th by the way) we arrived at the airport to find that my paper ticket had to be scanned 5 times as for some reason it wouldn’t read properly. Our flight got delayed over 2 hours which meant that by the time we landed it was too late to go anywhere. Bearing in mind that I was already a bag of nerves before we left Ireland; I was now faced with the horrifying prospect of having to watch Ireland vs Scotland with my usual 6 Nations nervous disposition as well as the engagement jitters. Which would be followed by a proposal only God knows where, which would be performed while well oiled from the alcohol consumed to cover up the previously mentioned nervousness. Friday 13th was living up to its name.

We arrived into the hotel a little after 23:30 to find that we had been upgraded to a “room with a view” and what a view it was. Overlooking the Tuileries gardens with the Louvre to the left and the Eiffel Tower to the right. I was like a drunken fool on the way home on a Saturday night. I had stumbled and fallen flat on the ground, but somehow managed not to drop my garlic chips and cheese. I had my Sacre-Coeur back.

We went for a walk around the corner to find the Irish bar for the game the next day. After a pint of Dutch courage we went back to the hotel where I went out on the balcony and sat down. I called Caroline out to look at the view. She arrived out, tooth brush in hand and sat on my lap. There on the balcony overlooking Paris at night I proposed. To which Caroline responded.....yep you guessed it “Seriously”. Upon repeating the question, another (more excited and higher pitched) “Seriously” was heard. On confirming for the third time that I was not in fact joking, the ring was taken from my hand and put on her finger. At this point I asked “Does this mean Yes?”, to which I was handed back the ring and ordered down on one knee. Joyously at the 4th time of asking I got confirmation that I could now relax and watch the rugby match on Saturday without the extra nervousness I was anticipating.



The point of this article is as follows: I have now heard the above story hundreds of times as Caroline has described it to friends and family. While balcony and Paris are a common theme, the story in no way resembles what happened from what I describe above. What I have heard described is in fact the perfect engagement with fireworks and doves been released at the moment she said yes. No mention of course of the toothbrush or the first 3 attempts.

So gentlemen everywhere remember this one indisputable fact. No matter how you do it, no matter how much you plan, no matter where you go, something WILL go wrong. But don’t worry or fret because when it described in years to come it will be the perfect engagement. Seriously....

1. Let the Battle Commence...

As a sporting enthusiast I am always enthralled by the many great sports rivalries there have been down through the years. Muhammad Ali vs. Joe Frazier, Arnold Palmer vs. Jack Nicklaus, Celtics vs. Lakers aka (Larry Bird vs. Magic Johnson), Manchester United vs. Liverpool to name a few.

In Ireland over the last 10 years or so one of the biggest and longest running rivalries, Leinster vs. Munster has been played out on the rugby field. On May 9th of this year 15 gladiators from the southern province, travelled north for a battle that would determine the high Kings of Irish rugby. Much like the Irish civil war of 1921, it was a nation divided. Husbands and wives, best friends, work colleagues and in some cases siblings chose their sides and set out their stall. On the battlefield of Croke Park, in front of a world record +80,000 attendance the Leinster men ran out victorious over their Munster kin.

In defeat for many it was a gut wrenching experience. They could take solace in the fact that they could return south with their brothers in arms and console themselves surrounded by people who felt and shared their pain. For those behind enemy lines the prospect of going to work the following Monday was too much to think about. For me it had a more staggering and profound meaning. I am at the beginning of my own personal Munster vs. Leinster battle. Like a rugby game, a Wedding has a day of destiny at the end of long road of preperation. This battle however will have been fought and won long before we take to the Field/Aisle.

Was this rugby match a sign of things to come? Am I doomed to defeat in all decisions location, suit colour, cake size, date, church, flowers, hotel, pictures etc etc AHHHHHHH.

Breath John.

Frankie says Relax.

Just remember the most important thing is that she said YES to getting married. Little does she know it, but you’ve already won.

So sit back, enjoy and let the battle commence.......