Against The Odds:Vinny gives the racing at Fairyhouse a miss and decides to boldly go where he had never gone before.

ASSEMBLING THE double-buggy for the twins always appeared a simple task when Angie was director of operations. With a click here and a push there, she had the state-of-the-art perambulator in place, kids safely stowed on board, in a jiffy.

Vinny Fitzpatrick had noted his wife’s quick fingers and deft touch, had done his best to memorise the right handles to pull, leavers to release, but couldn’t help feel a sense of foreboding.

It was Tuesday afternoon and the portly Dublin bus driver was on paternal duty as Angie, still on maternal leave, had dashed over to Blanch to meet her sister, Debs, and singe her credit card.

Aware of his Lenten lifestyle intentions, Vinny had eschewed the racing at Fairyhouse on the telly and decided to boldly go where he had never gone before – out for a walk in the chill Clontarf air with his 11-week-old twins.

He had timed his effort to fall between feeds so the nippers would sleep through the walk but, as he’d feared, the double-buggy defied his best efforts to get going on time.

As a kid he had never been interested in Lego, Meccano or Airfix like the other lads on the street, simply because he didn’t have the knack of putting things together.

He loved to kick a ball, swing a hurl and read a book, but gluing a wing on to a model Spitfire or Hurricane was beyond him. On this day, his old phobia returned and before long Vinny was panting and cursing as the double-buggy defied his best ham-fisted efforts. As his frustration grew, and sweat formed under his armpits, he cracked.

“No slagging love, I’m in a bad place here. Just talk me through this,” he said through gritted teeth down the phone to Angie. It was several minutes later, when Vinny nosed the buggy out on to Mount Prospect Avenue, sniffed the wind and headed left towards Noleen’s supermarket. He had the wheels pointing the right way, and the kids strapped in, side by side, Oisín wrapped in a blue blanket, Aoife in pink.

The whole exercise had taken more out of him than he thought and he was already looking forward to the regular meeting of the “Tuesday Night Club”. For 15 years, six mates had gathered in Foley’s every Tuesday for six pints and a discourse on life’s attractions, chiefly on gambling and the quality of Guinness. But in a seismic change, it was agreed that for Lent, the lads would skip Foley’s and instead give their custom to six other pubs, with each of them selecting a hostelry.

For opening night, Fran had suggested “The Schooner” at the Fairview end of the Clontarf Road, which was adjacent to his launderette, Bubbles On The Bull, and had recently been given a makeover.

“I believe the sea views are splendid, if you know what I mean,” he’d said with a mischievous smile.

Vinny intended to walk as far as “The Schooner” and back, just to give the place the once-over. “Won’t do any harm to case the joint in advance and see what sea views Fran was muttering on about,” he thought to himself.

But first, there was the matter of shopping in Noleen’s, a long-established family-run shop on Kincora Road.

Vinny had a short list, which was just as well, for his sense of geography, which was outstanding behind the wheel of any bus on the northside, was lousy when it came to supermarkets.

As other shoppers, almost all of them female, darted up and down the aisles, lifting and loading with military precision, Vinny soon found himself drifting aimlessly as he searched for the shelves containing the beverages.

At one point, he stopped, looked left and right and scratched his potato-sized head. He was lost.

Two women approached, pushing trolleys apace while talking and stacking simultaneously. Their multi-tasking scared Vinny, who moved to one side when they suddenly stopped in their tracks.

“Ah, the little darlings. Eimear, aren’t they just gorgeous?” cooed one. “Would you look at their eyes Maureen, one has brown, the other blue. They are the most beautiful babies,” purred the other.

With that, they bent down and began to stroke cheeks, pat hair and cluck sweet nothings. After a bit, they stood up, their faces glowing.

“Well aren’t you the lucky Dad then to have two corkers like that,” said the first one, a tall blonde lady in her late 30s, whom Vinny guessed was Eimear.

“Have you been let out all on your own?” laughed Maureen, who was short, dark and pretty. Vinny’s cheeks flushed bright pink, as they invariably did whenever a woman, or in this case two women, addressed him. Grasping the handlebars of the buggy, he coughed, politely said “pardon me”, and headed off in the direction of the fish counter.

For the next few minutes, Vinny was conscious of the looks he was getting, or rather the looks the twins were getting.

At one point, in the vegetable section, he found himself encircled by a gaggle of women, all making complimentary remarks about the twin bundles of joy in the buggy.

Gradually, his embarrassment lessened and he even became a mite emboldened. He stopped blushing and at one point engaged in brief conversation, with an attractive brunette, Lisa, whom he recognised from Angie’s scrabble club. “Why don’t you pop in on your way home Vinny?” she said suggestively. “I’ve made some biscuits that need dunking.”

At the mention of biscuits, Vinny remembered what he had come in for, a jar of coffee for Angie and some tea bags for him. He looked beyond Lisa’s shoulder, spied some brand names he recognised and made his exit. By the time he got to the check-out queue, Vinny had regrouped and was thinking to himself that the buggy, to put it crudely, was something of a babe magnet. Here he was, at 52, flabby and bald, yet finding himself the centre of attention to the femme fatale of middle-class Clontarf.

With that he shuffled forward to the till where a spindly teenager, with greasy skin, was seated. As the barcode bleeped for his purchases, the checkout girl spoke. “That’ll be six euro, Grandad.”

With that, Vinny Fitzpaztrick’s smugness evaporated as instant as the jar of coffee in his hand.

Bets of the Week

2ptsAston Villa to beat Man Utd in League Cup final (7/2, Boylesports)

1ptEngland and Ireland to draw in Six Nations (20/1, Ladbrokes)

Vinny's Bismarck

1ptLay Celtic to beat Rangers (2/1, general, liability 2pts)