As Storm Barra bears down - where in Cork would you want to be locked into?
Tan Hill Inn, in the Yorkshire Dales, UK: while punters' dreams of Oasis' glory days were turned into potential survival horror, Cork has a number of locations you'd be happy to lock down in.
The Tan Hill Inn in the Yorkshire Dales of the north of England made some news recently: you'd expect a good bit of weather in any hilly area, but punters at an Oasis tribute gig at the pub got more than they bargained for, as they found themselves "snowed in" by Storm Arwen - with the inclement conditions making it impossible to get in or out.
It's any band's worst nightmare - not only playing to a quiet, half-empty house, but then being tasked with expanding post-gig small talk to three days - allegedly including repeat performances in the evenings.
That's to say nothing of the business of survival, of course.
Twitter this morning was abuzz with a similar tale, as hostile weather conditions forced the staff of an IKEA in Denmark to raid the in-house Swedish meatballs and get cosy on the display beds.
Storm Barra approaches, and it got this parish to consider where in Cork they'd want to be locked into, when it came to it...
Three words: Spicy chicken wings. I'd happily spend the night noshing away on their signature dish.
The windows are lovely and big so we could watch the storm, smugly stuffing our faces. I wouldn't say no to a cocktail either - just the one.
I reckon there'd be great acoustics if a bit of a singsong broke out. Plus, we're right across from the Opera House - The Coronas might be hanging around and want some company.
Although it could be a long night, I wouldn't mind hunkering down in The Montenotte, we'd get some unreal views if there was lightning, we could watch a movie in the cinema and sure what's the harm in another cocktail?
Fingers crossed, a massage therapist from the spa is stranded, and would appreciate me allowing her to take her mind off things by volunteering for a two-hour hot stone massage. Stranger things have happened.
For sheer drama, it would have to be Shandon.
You couldn't beat a 300-year old tower for historic, fairly creepy vibes and it's up high so floods or snowdrifts shouldn't be a problem. (Happy birthday in advance Shandon, by the way: the tower was built in 1722 so its 300th birthday is coming up very soon).
And if it all got too much for you — or you just wanted to signal out for emergency snacks and supplies — you've got the bells to communicate with.
Though if I had my choice then I'd go for a Lidl with a bakery. I'd have that pain-au-chocolat production line on turbo drive.
The middle-aisle would have me kitted out for every eventuality: snow boots, arts and crafts, power tools and so much more. And I'd time-trial my trolley dash to perfection as well.
If I had to be stuck anywhere for Storm Barra it would without a doubt be the Big Dunnes in Bishopstown.
I would stock up on some nice grub from the posh food hall, loading up on some cheese from Sheridans of course.
I'd grab some wine and crisps and head straight over to the home section to commandeer one of the beds made up with Francis Brennan gear.
Once I'd staked my claim, I'd add a few throw cushions from Carolyn Donnelly and some essential beauty bits from down the end near the tills.
Then, I'd get comfy cosy in a pair of new jammies and settle down with a trashy magazine that is full of horrific true stories. I don't know why, but they comfort me.
For one thing, it's so big and there's so much to see in the different galleries, you'd easily while away the time in lockdown.
When you're done wandering, there's also a couple of hours to be spent sitting down and gazing at the picture of Our Glorious Leader, aka Roy Keane with Raven's Head.
And if that makes you peckish, you could even raid the pantry in the delicious cafe.
Lock me up in Brown Thomas for the storm. Once upon a time, it would have been for the high fashion.
But after close on two years of covid and WFH, I'd be content - and storm proof - sipping coffee from Table, pottering through the Christmas shop (and maybe even the Christmas windows) and checking out the third-floor interiors.
I might take a slight detour to Maje though - some habits never die.
It's an Aladdin's cave of supplements and snacks on Patrick Street.
To destress I would sip a chamomile tea and if hungry I'd feast from its vast range of health bars, my current squeeze is dark chocolate and sea salt.
Before settling down for the night, I'd sprinkle organic lavender essential oil on my pillow - the deeper the sleep, the less likely to be disturbed by passing traffic.
And, upon waking, all I'd have to do is reach for the ginseng to put the zing into my day.
Big of your writer to assume that, in his early thirties and unsure if whether he's dealing with a slowing metabolism or the Covid stone, that he could winter a night out with coffee alone.
In this hypothetical situation, though, the new PLUGD Records on Coal Quay has the coffee machines up and running, and the stove ready to go.
Most importantly, I'd have the run of the stock - shelves of new and secondhand records, from the latest in independent Irish music, to impeccably-selected gems across a wide range of musical genres.
But if it absolutely had to involve food and/or surviving more than a night, I'd conveniently run up to Kyle Street and somehow get locked into VeganKO, a chippy for hippies, without trying to be so trite.
Vegan-friendly versions of all the dirty-burger classics, with skinny chips to boot. You might have trouble getting me back out, in fact.
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