1 p.m.
The curtain rises on The Sunday Matinee, a new adventure in clubbing at the Odeon bar in Harcourt Street. Lunchtime on Sunday sounds a little early to be going on an adventure, especially after last night's fun, but compared to a drive in the country or an afternoon of absailing, this "brunch club for urban modernists" offers just the kind of relaxation you need after a mad weekend on the tear.
Run by club promoters Strictly Fish, The Sunday Matinee takes the traditional Sabbath activities of eating, lounging and reading the papers, and transfers them to the wide, airy spaces of the old Harcourt Street train station building. As you enter the Odeon, you're greeted by the sepulchral sight of a marble-topped pillar - instead of holy water and missals, however, the pillar is covered with a variety of newspapers. You make your selection, find yourself a comfy chair, order a Breo to keep the club's sponsors sweet, then settle down for a marathon session of laid-back socialising which, if you can pace yourself, should take you right into the small hours of Monday morning.
2 p.m.
There's no holy hour any more, so there's no need to drink up, go home and tuck into the Sunday roast. Instead, you can stay and order the Sunday School Special, which consists of savoury sausages, back bacon, Clonakilty black and white puddings, poached or fried free-range eggs and American hash browns. Martin Thomas, however, is not happy with the hash browns. Thomas runs Strictly Fish - and therefore The Sunday Brunch - along with Jimmy Costello, and he wants The Sunday Matinee to be a smooth, relaxing experience for everyone. And nothing can spoil your relaxation more than American hash browns which are decidedly un-American. "I gave them the recipe, and I told them exactly how I wanted them made," he complains. "How hard can it be? What's the point of making hash browns the same way everybody else makes them?" Thomas promises next week's hash browns will be perfect, so we can all relax now.
3 p.m.
A smattering of "urban modernists" are enjoying brunch at the Sunday Matinee, while the sun streams in through the vast windows of the Odeon. If a fry isn't to your liking, there is a selection of light dishes which includes bruschetta, deep fried aubergines, seared beef or chicken salad, penne pasta, tomato and spinach tart, Thai salmon parcels, and chargrilled chicken and pepper kebab with basmati rice. I can feel the hangover subsiding already.
In the background old soul, laid-back jazz beats, and 1960s soundtracks are playing, an unobtrusive backdrop to the chatter and the clatter of coffee cups.
"It's quite good, I like it," is the verdict of graphic designer Brian Gough from Dublin, who is basking in the rays at his window seat. "I quite like the film music they were playing earlier on, but I don't like what they're playing now," (I Touch Myself by The Divinyls, pop). "I wouldn't normally be looking for anywhere to go on a Sunday afternoon - I'd usually be at home watching television. I'm happy I came out, though. It's quite good."
"It's very nice and the furniture is very comfortable," says teacher Roisin Byrne from Dublin, "But the drinks are very expensive."
4 p.m.
I order the chargrilled chicken and pepper kebabs, daring to down a glass of red wine as an accompaniment. Sharing the table are club owner Barry Mahon, his wife Alison, and their one-year-old baby, Mikey. Mikey has no hangover, so he smiles and gurgles happily, and crawls merrily around on the Odeon's spacious floor space. Beats a dingy pub littered with empty crisp packets and filled with cigarette smoke and the din of the hurling match blaring in the background. We're joined by my friend Tara Slye and her 10-year-old son, Ben, who orders a Chocolate and Hazelnut Brownie with Hot Chocolate Sauce. Ben offers me a forkful of this delicious-looking dessert, and maintains a polite composure while I proceed to devour half his brownie. Obviously a well brought-up lad.
5 p.m.
Barbara O'Riordan is the restaurant manager at the Odeon, and she believes The Sunday Matinee is a tasty addition to the city's club menu. "You can drift in here during the afternoon and cure your hangover in bright, airy surroundings," she says. "You can get a nice, inexpensive brunch, socialise a bit, and then get slowly back into the drinking. It's not too clique-y, either: you can find yourself sitting beside trendy young clubbers or nice old ladies." Fran Ryan, a sales manager from Dublin, says the Sunday Matinee fulfils all his criteria for somewhere to relax.
"On Saturday night, I presume people would be more prepared to jump around, but come Sunday I think it's nice to chill out. I think there's a lack of this sort of thing on a Sunday. There's a guy playing down in the Bailey, and that's all right, but we thought we'd try this for a change. Will we stay here for the evening? Well, we'll have a drink every half hour, so in three hours we'll have had six drinks. We'll see then how long we last!"
6 p.m.
It's time for the Angelus - that's right, you heard me properly, the Angelus. Bells, holy pictures and all that. The Sunday Matinee is committed to keeping this unique Irish tradition alive. A giant screen is set up at the far end of the Odeon, and a vision of the Virgin Mary appears in beatific pose, while the bells toll through the PA system.
This is followed by the Sunday Matinee logo, a short sequence about Breo, the Irish white beer, and then the classic movie begins.
This week it's The Party, starring Peter Sellers. In weeks to come, Martin and Jimmy are planning to screen such cult favourites as Alfie, Barbarella and Easy Rider. "Showing the Angelus is just a bit of fun, a way of presenting something distinctly Irish in a kitschy way," says Martin Thomas.
"We're just re-mixing Irish culture. It's more a nod to what has gone before, while not being disrespectful. We're all cosmopolitan and chic nowadays, but the Angelus is still part of what we are."
8 p.m.
All has descended into mayhem. People are milling around drunkenly, giggling, snogging and swigging champagne. A baby elephant clomps around the room, straddled by a woman in a bikini. Suddenly the floor opens up to reveal a swimming pool, and everybody tumbles fully-clothed into the water. Then the credits roll, The Party comes to an end, and it's time for DJ Joey Moran to start spinning a mix of Northern soul and rare grooves from the 1960s and 1970s.
The night-time crowd begins to arrive, and pretty soon the Odeon is filled with punters, all looking dressed up, relaxed and with somewhere to go. "This is exactly what I'm looking for on a Sunday night," says student Mark Mulhern. "It's a nice way to get over last night - have a few pints, shoot the breeze. I definitely like this vibe."
"I think it's very different to other places on the pub scene," says student organiser Sean O Cinneide. "Every pub offers the same thing over and over again. It's nice to settle down somewhere good on a Sunday where you can relax and not go on a major bender."
"We like the music here," says student Sandra Molin from Stockholm. "It's very laid back. Dublin is different from Stockholm - people are more relaxed here. At home everyone's always in a hurry."
Midnight
My, how time flies when you're taking it easy. Three hours and three pints later, the lights come up and the curtain comes down on another Sunday Matinee. I've been relaxing my ass off for quite a few hours, and now I'm completely pooped. See you next Sunday.
The Sunday Matinee brunch club is open from 1 p.m. until midnight every Sunday at the Odeon in Harcourt Street