BLOG | Martin O Regan

Notes on a bus going somewhere… again

Posted on October 8, 2024 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

I cried, and cried really – fitfully,

Frightened of the night to come

And days to follow.

I cared not for friends

And how they would comfort me,

For I had thrown away a love.

A life once mapped in notion

Now lost to fantasy

To regret

To the shadows of another being

For he and I no longer identified

For good or bad, he was a different man

And so it was my soul

That bled asunder

Wrent by my own wretched hands

My tongue in fact

My thoughts –

My future for a cigarette.

Could it really have been that banal?

A voice, in answer, on a phone some weeks later blamed me anyway.

Old haunts, old habits

Posted on August 1, 2024 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

Trying to remove myself from the dependency of crutchdom, I find myself revisiting places that became the staple of another time. But leaning philosophical, every day presents another time. Still, retaining some sense of civility, I am amused by the fact that at the very moment of reminisce, I stumbled across old heads from old times. They themselves were never my bar fellows, but they haunted the edges of that life. Now, I feel like I’m back on the tracks after a total derailment, and yet I wonder, like I do every morning on awakening, whether I’m just deluding myself. And yet I’m also inclined to believe that that is what it is like to chase a dream. Always infused by a vibrancy I one time tried to replicate through booze,…but far be it for me to demonise, afterall it is only those who can’t handle it that speak of a glorious life without it. Plenty’s the guy who never missed a day in his life, never feigned illness to skip a moment’s work…(I secretly pity them but that is just like my opinion man!)… But that is not my point. All I wanted to say is that it is nice to find myself again living with intention, not simply prey to mundanity, and even if I had the luxury to choose another way, and nearly always I have had, I believe that one some time in one’s life needs to experience the weakest aspect of their being in order to understand their strength. It’s clichéd I’m sure, but tell that to those who’ve died trying. To all and sundry, I bid you a good morrow.

Balatonfűzfő in a Day

Posted on July 30, 2024 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

Fövenystrand

An idea, a birthday idea. Instead of crawling north on Pest to Aquaworld, a place filled with slidey delights (I know, I’ve spun backwards, clipped my hip and shoulder, and nearly shat myself), the notion was floated of hitting Lake Balaton for a day. We’d tried before and flirted again with the idea of Velence-tó, and while being damned close to Budapest, it just doesn’t have the depth. Am I a cultural snob? Probably! But what I mean here is simple… When the kids were really kiddie kids then knee deep sufficed but now they are swimmers and swimmers need danger to develop, and when the water threatens above the neckline, even I, the more experienced swimmer in the family, get existential doubt. Asthma doesn’t help. But, hey, I digress. So, alternatives explored, the idea of heading to Balaton for the day was floated and that fucker sailed, and almightily. We got down on an early train because I’m Jewish in that respect, (if I had said Scottish would it have been acceptable?). Landing we broached the strand, my spirit tentative, searching for older, misspent alternatives, but my children and their friends prevailed and we arrived at the strand, and we entered, and we indulged.

Firstly, it’s cheaper than everything Budapest had to offer. Secondly, it’s Balaton, and only 90 guaranteed minutes away, unless the train meets a real shit show, then that’s just unfortunate, and not Hungarian public transport as the Budapesti are wont to say. Budapest public transport is great and if you think otherwise you’re either Budapesti or insane. I say this without hesitation because everybody else has experienced an awful lot worse.

Woah, and here I am again, a long way off topic. And we’re back. So, Balaton for the day, and because it’s not insanity South side and because it’s not one of the bigger, “better”, strands, you don’t leave feeling so empty of pocket, and do you know what, there’s still place for homeborne… So if you really want to get on my rankles about prices, go on, there’s a short pier with your name signed up for that big walk. Swearing aside, Good God, it’s great.

Winding down time at the lake comes around 7. Officially the strand is closed but of course now the locals arrive for a swim and the Cimbora burger place becomes more the pub it promises all the time on the edges. There is even Guinness here out of hot season. The other places also open from the outside. It seems that life goes on, but for us, and at least for this evening, a 9 o’ clock back to Déli is on the cards… And hey, let’s not forget the kindness of strangers: from the station attendant and friend, to the ticket inspector, we were shown a part of humanity I last remember experiencing on my way to Banka Bystrica, before I let cynicism rule the roost. What a day! Apeople

Because it really is the Best

Posted on March 14, 2023 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

A little word of advice, if you’re coming to Ireland, go to Cork, and while that might seem like enough, don’t be fooled, the charm of the locals in the city is only a ruse, the real wealth in the county lies farther to the left, down west, but don’t let yourself be lulled inland through Macroom, that would be ridiculous, instead head south firstly, and let yourself be slowly drawn by the ebb and flow down down along the coast.
Seek out the tourist attractions, because well they are all that, attractive, and steep yourself in some of the local lore, and bia, and wash it all down, and raise your soul in celebration, but then let that be that, stray off the beaten track as much as possible, get lost, double back and as long as you stay close to water it won’t even matter if that two hours becomes two days becomes two years or two lifetimes and more, you’ll always be heading the right way, still West and South along the coast, hitting beach after beach, village after village, pub after pub and such, and there’ll come a time as surely as the sun shall rise tomorrow, when you’ll no longer give a damn about the destination, you’ll be so immersed in the journey.
Some people find religion, some find art, some others find home in another’s warm embrace, but unless you travel to Cork and then south and West you’ll really have found nothing at all.

Kossuth 1 Pékség és Kávézó

Posted on December 19, 2022 by martinoregan • 1 Comment

Is this really a place without match? Without compare? A place like no other? Unique? Individual? Groundbreaking? Earthshaking? You’ve probably guessed at my answer by now, or have given up entirely and scrolled on. But for those still curious enough, and if I can structure my answer according to the preceding grammar…

Just get on with it, would ya ffs!

Alright. My goodness.

Well, this place doesn’t stand out on the global scale of things but in this quiet suburb of Budapest, it is actually somewhat unique. It isn’t like the chain coffee shop further down in the valley, nor does it have that shopping centre vibe of that place further along the trail. It isn’t like the confectionery shops dotted about the place either.

So what is it then? It’s bigger than the smaller places and away from the shopping background of the bigger places. And that’s its selling point, in my opinion. A place to sit and relax and enjoy a coffee, tea, pastry, cake, sandwich, salad and a bit more. There are even products to buy like olive oil and other such oddities one would expect from a speciality shop. A place where there is more than enough space, seating, for more than a few and yet intimate enough not to get that study room air of the American chains. Perhaps you’ll find the odd laptop user here but my guess is this place attracts locals looking for a break, nénis and bácsis looking for a coffee and cake, workers popping in for a warm brew, but not so much the bench warmers bashing out the final draft of a thesis or looking for inspiration for their first book. Stuck in the cosy seats way back in the corner, a book to hand, and lounge tunes from the speakers, it’s anybody’s guess as to when I’ll be leaving. I mean afterall if I do get a bit peckish, there is plenty to hand and let’s not be quick to dismiss this, the jacks is spot on. Just one thing to note: don’t bother with this place come Sunday. It’s closed. As for the rest it’s all about the early morning start: 6 am weekdays, 6.30 am Saturdays.

Come for a coffee, stay for the choice.

Kossuth 1 Pékség és Kávézó

The last time I saw Roy

Posted on May 14, 2022 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

It might’ve been the last time I saw him

That trip up north along the coast,

At least at points inevitably so.

And in all its vagueness surely,

It’s still further shrouded by that doubt,

That almost disbelief:

Surely there was at least one time other.

But if there was, the memory’s withholding

Insistent upon the poetry of this –

The final memory,

The beauty and the beast.

I never cried on hearing he had passed

But stopped to think a thousand thoughts

A thousand reasons

Why our paths

They should have crossed.

But we didn’t know each other

And though I bow to some intended whisper

The wind is only pandering to

My own instilled importance.

We had become nothing to each other,

Just echoes of other worlds

That perhaps we’d wished we had explored.

Zöld Kancsó

Posted on February 23, 2022 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

Just dropped in for a cuppa between jobs. Had intended to take the Metro 2 downtown but having passed this place recently, and hoping to resurrect my exploratory verve, I chose to go to the end of the line, Örs Vezér tere.

A front area that opens to the street on hotter days, I’m currently being baked alive by the heat, such is my desire for people watching. There is a back area with booths, cozy, no doubt, for those sessions with friends.

Today, and alone, I’m merely absorbing the early afternoon sunshine and chilled out vibe. A radio plays hits from a time, and people come and go.

In front of me there lies a menu. Full of burgers, a veggie option to boot, a few quesadilla options, and sides such as onion rings and chicken wings. Oh, and the mandatory melegszendvics in a few flavours, ropi and other typical bar snacks.

It seems to cater to all tastes, from snacker to meal seeker, dare I say drinker to dancer.

The Facebook page says it has a young people’s vibe but for now on a sunny Wednesday afternoon the average age is upwards of fifty, what with the old couple behind me and the border collie (dog years!!!) with its young owner farther down, and myself of course.

For now it offers all that I require, a little peace and quiet, but I can imagine when up at Ikea next time, I might actually forego the swedish meatballs in favour of a burger here. I think the kids and Andi will agree. Let’s see😁😋😁

https://www.facebook.com/zold.kancso/

A yoghurt later

Posted on August 19, 2020 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

Gatch up to Gellért afterwards
armed with a decent bottle of wine
and some munchies,
look everyone in the eye and smile graciously…
Then wake up screaming
in your bedroom
in that darkness before Dawn
and let the fear linger as you try to brave the moments
that stretch interminably before the coming of day
and your salvation
and again imagine yourself invincible till the night creeps in again,
the opportunities to move beyond the dream strangled again
and deny your fear as you down
a bottle of rancid cheap wine while
telling yourself you could have gone, you could have gone
until you can’t remember where
nor why it would have mattered anyway.

The Vacant Lot

Posted on August 19, 2020 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

The empty space
Where my hand falls
The room to spreadeagle
Tormenting
The hollow room
Unwelcome echoes
The door snatched open
By invisible hands
When the darkness subsides
And still alone
It’s the hope that nurtures
The light that leads
The meal for two
Once lasted for days
Disappearing quite suddenly
In a drunken haze
And yet it’s those places frequented
Now passed by in shame
Not wanting to be recognized
Nor needing to explain
They steal away
A chance at humanity
A chance at the high life
Or some other taint
The streets once strolled down
Hand within hand
The nights loosely forgotten
Now etched – infinite
And yet even still
Intellectualising
Trying to paint pain
The stuffed toy on the mantle
Levelling that façade
Until again in the darkness
That primordial glitch
Where the veneer of bravery
Shattered – in bits

The dream family

Posted on July 28, 2020 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

I introduced you last night
You and your brother-
Or your cousin…
Right now I can’t remember,
And I’m trying not to care-
As if somethings are more important.
Last night I shook your hand
And whoever else’s-
As I introduced you-
But to whom?
Even now I wonder if
In reality
Family can be less elusive,
As they seem in dreams:
As ours was not to be?
Was this the real reason for the division?
Or do some couples grow apart,
Not from each other
But all others
And the things they once enjoyed?
I enjoy my life
Yet see the distance
Closeness can create:
Delving into the dream of those who matter
The foundations finally falter
The façade ripped off exposing
The shallow lives we have led.
Maybe it’s just fear
Avoiding company with excuses
But beneath all notions
Perhaps therein lies
Pain, fear, uncertainty.
Perhaps for everyone –
And perhaps across the void
As our hands reached out
Mine asleep, yours eternally,
I only understood
Base wishes;
The truth
The distance
Shall remain.

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