Forgot To Make A Flan

This weekend in Cork is big. Huge if you’re a plan addict. Not up there with events such as New Year’s Eve, Christmas or Halloween, but it is big enough to give you the plan making hit you need to keep you going. If you’re a plan head. Not only is it a bank holiday weekend, it’s a Jazz Festival on top. Bank holiday. Festival. 4 day weekend. 1 extra night to go out. Plan makers are foaming at the mouth as we speak. Shaking with anticipation. Taking deep breaths to calm themselves down. Running through the last minute checks to make sure everything is in order. All about the details. All about the timing. All about the plan.

You Can't Move Without A Plan!

It seems too early in the month to have a bank holiday. Slipped my mind. Only got a reminder when a few phone calls came in at the start of the week. Shakers in the planning world, making their move. ‘So, eh, what’s your plan for the weekend?’ The weekend? It’s only Monday, not too sure. Tuesday arrives… ‘So eh, any plans for the weekend yet?’ Might go boozing actually with Bob on Friday, back from London. ‘And eh, where are ye planning on going on Friday night?’ I don’t know. Town. ‘Saturday, em, any plans then?’ No. No clue. Might chill, think I’m DJ’ing Sunday night actually. ‘So, eh, can I  just run through that again with one… Friday – going out, not sure where. Saturday – unsure. Sunday – DJ’ing. Does that sound right? That’s your plan?’ That’s what I’m doing, why? Are you writing this down or something? ‘Oh no, just checking everybody’s plan. See whatever one’s up to. Hopefully I can make a plan out of it all. One big plan. Plan. Plan. I must make a plan.’

The bank holiday Jazz weekend. How could I have forgotten? The time when people tell you how much they love jazz. Love it. Name a jazz musician. Or a jazz song? Last time you listened to jazz? This time last year perhaps? Good old jazz. People freaking out. Not asking what you’re doing for the weekend. Instead insisting on using the word plan? ‘What’s your plan? You need a plan. Must have a plan. Bank holiday weekend. Jazz. Must have a plan for the jazz. Do a bit of jazzing.’ What happens if I have no plan? ‘No plan? Scoff. As if.’ Can I leave my house without a plan, no? ‘Of course. It won’t be good though. Why would you not want to have a plan? Must plan. Plan. Plan.’

Rambling on. Maybe I just don’t like plans because I’m not very good at making them. I only have one… blog -> book -> sitcom -> movies. Every man does need a plan but life ones are different. Or maybe its that my plans don’t usually go to plan. Last night I left the gym when it was dark and it had been raining. My car was on the far side of the car park. If you want to ever mug me, pick this car park. Not well lit up. Place was covered with puddles. Plan would be to get to my car, without walking in a puddle. Trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness. Staring down at the ground as I walked. Threading along. Making sure I avoided the puddles. Staring. Walking. Threading. Staring. Walking. Threading.

Obviously just as I got by my car I thought I was home free, relaxed a bit and walked into the biggest puddle of the lot. Not sure about you, but I never really jump backwards when trying to avoid something. Always forwards or to the side. Which then obviously led me to quickly skipping out of that puddle and landing nicely in the large puddle next to it. Making sure I got myself fully wet. Good work. What about my plan? I tried so hard. I was barely walking along. Feeling my way in the dark. Plan failed. 

Just One More Hit

Going out with plan makers can be tough. For some reason they feel pressured and stressed to follow the plan exactly. To a tee. Here’s the plan… Start off in pub E. Move on to pub Z for one quick one. Meet up with Jim, Joe and Bob in pub D. Two drinks there. One more drink in the place next door. One drink or half an hour. Plan is flexible at this time. To an extent. Finally, we all end up in club G. Might be an after party in B, not fully sure though. Didn’t plan that far ahead. Well I did, but I’ll let you know when we’re in club G.  

Unable to relax. Veins popping out in frustration trying to keep it together. Strung up to the max. Like a crackhead looking for their next hit. ‘Come on man, we must leave here, we’re meant to be in D now.’ Chill out, Jim, Joe and Bob are here, it’s ok. ‘Sorry, sorry, it’s just… the plan, I told people my plan, so I must…’ Calm down. ‘No, I won’t calm down. I can’t calm down. This is not part of the plan.’ Are you ok? What’s wrong? ‘This is the worst bank holiday Jazz weekend ever! What am I going to tell people at work on Tuesday!!! They must think I had a better weekend than them! And it was all down to the plans I made!!!’

Hopefully I can get two plan heads together later on. Compare their plans with each other. See who will win. His plan is better than yours. He wins. Hang on, she has a plan B as well! Bought tickets for two events, just in case. Trump card. The best plan of them all. Talk to people who are unsure of their plans. Worried they might have made the wrong one. Sussing out what the right choice is… ‘I hear club F will be good tonight. Should be good. I’d say it’ll be good. They’re doing Jazz. Do you think it’ll be good? Jesus why did I not buy tickets for club Y instead?! Damn. Messed up my whole weekend. Stupid plan.’

All brutal attempts of humour aside, I must go make a few calls and put a flan together for myself. Jazz on!

When The Saints Go Marching In – Louis Armstrong

Baby Can’t Stop (Aeroplane Remix) – Lindstrom & Christabelle

Tags: Baby Can't Stop (Aeroplane Remix), Cork, Flan, Freaking Out, Jazz Weekend, Lindstrom and Christabelle, Louis Armstrong, Plans, When The Saints Go Marching In