I've written here about George Lee as an RTE commentator during the Celtic Tiger times (2006). He was totally negative of the Irish Economy and it's dependence on property boom etc. You could argue that he was proved right in the end although I would question if he had analysed the right reasons for the collapse. But anyhow - fair dues - he got what he wished for so-to-speak and I've no doubt his constant down-talking helped the Irish people to get more nervous and spend less and less... I think he helped talk us deeper into recession.
My impression is that George is a good commentator and observer and is very articulate. He appeals to many in Ireland because so many of us love totally knocking the government and policies. Although I lean towards Fianna Fail in my political outlook I find it hard to be specifically too critical of Fine Gael in the George resignation saga. I continue to get a distinct impression of George Lee as a knocker who is poor on driving ideas and policy. I've lost count of the number of times in the last year where I've heard George spit fire about the government and yet when challenged he offered nothing as an alternative direction. When questions such as "What would you do instead?" came up the interviewer would get vague stuff like.."Well, I'll tell you what I wouldn't do" or "We need to work out a plan". To this day I've still no idea what George WOULD DO except continue to moan and lament the way many Irish people do.
Lastnight on RTE's Frontline program, Dr. Leo Varadker TD the Fine Gael Enterprise spokesman only reinforced my own opinion on George Lee as a Moany Mary rather than a doer. If we are to believe Dr. Varadker it seems that as soon as George came in to the Dail he was given the position of chairman of the FG economic policy committee. Apparently George didn't ever call one meeting of this committee and wasn't involved in having other people on that committee. He also did not write down any policy drafts as part of this role we are told.
George was given a golden boy endorsement by the electorate. Okay, he is entitled to resign and leave politics. But what I do object to is his attitude that it was somehow Fine Gael and the party political system which failed him. He would have more respect from me if he just put his hands up and admitted that he simply is not the type of person who can drive or lead policy. It's not a sin to try and fail.
I don't pretend to know George Lee very deeply except what I learn of him through the media. But he does remind me of a certain percentage of the scores of sales and technical people I've hired and fired in my business career over the last 30 years. I've had some people who are better talkers than achievers and blame others for anything that fails around them. Then I've had real winners who put their heads down and get their goals done in spite of challenges by working with people and getting around problems. George reminds me of the former more than the latter.
I'm not saying Fine Gael don't have some internal issues to resolve and I'm sure most parties could do things better internally. But in my opinion the problem with George Lee's resignation is at least 80% to do with George and his incompatible skills for the job.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Dramatic Wind Power Solution to Irish Economic Crises
Copy of Press Release...
www.spiritofIreland.org Leading Ireland’s Bright Future
7th May 2009 – A breakthrough national project is being launched today by the Spirit of Ireland Group. Broken into two phases - Step 1 promises Energy Independence for Ireland within 5 Years with a €10 billion stimulus to the economy. Step 2 will see energy exports from Ireland in years 6, 7 and 8 of €3 billion to €5 billion per year or up to €50 billion over the following 10 years. Both phases will seek to help secure Ireland’s financial future.
A national awareness campaign is running across the national print media today to inform the public and precipitate a national discussion in order to develop social consensus around this exciting opportunity with respect to Ireland’s future.
Over 90% of all the electricity we use is generated from imported, fossil fuels such as oil, gas and coal. We have no control over the fluctuating costs of imported fuel leaving us strategically naked and resulting in Ireland having the most expensive electricity in Europe. Over the past six months a team of very experienced Engineers, Academics, Architects, Geologists, Hydro Geologists, Environmental Engineers, Construction Experts, Consultants, Legal and Finance professionals have been working intensively on ideas proposed by Professor Igor Shvets of Trinity College. The results of this work have stunning implications for our country.
The Problems with Wind
It is essential to deal with the challenges presented by wind energy:-
Its volatility as a fuel source – it is difficult to predict, intermittent and variable in strength.
Costs involved in harvesting the wind and connection to the power network.
Instabilities created in the power network and dispatching difficulties for network operators.
Lack of energy storage capabilities.
The Solution
Hydro Storage Reservoirs resolve these difficulties by storing excess wind energy and providing more generation capacity when required. The Turlough Hill facility is a well established example of this principle.
Professor Igor Shvets has identified suitable valleys on the West Coast, which are ideally shaped. Basic rock dams in a few valleys, will provide Hydro Storage Reservoirs at modest cost. Positioned close to the sea, water volume is not an issue. Japan’s J-Power had built a successful sea water storage facility in Okinawa over 10 years ago. Senior executives and engineers from Japan visited Ireland and confirmed the validity of this approach. Filling the reservoirs with wind energy and using it when needed means that the intermittency of the wind problem is resolved. International Consultants from Canada, the US and Norway contributed to other aspects of the design.
The basic plan proposes to:
· Locate wind farms in suitable areas to harvest energy
· Save the resulting energy in Hydro Storage Reservoirs
· Natural energy released from Hydro Storage Reservoirs is instantly dispatchable and is ideal for both domestic use and export
· Secure energy supplies and save up to €30 billion in hard cash over 10 years on fossil fuel imports
As well as harnessing excess energy for export, the project will create jobs on a local and national level and lead to huge investment in throughout the country. We will have a massive impact on carbon dioxide emmissions.
Social Consensus for a Secure Future
To build a secure future for Ireland, we will have to construct the Hydro Storage Reservoirs, Wind Farms and Collection Networks and connect these to the grid to supply Natural Energy countrywide. Social consensus in the construction of these facilities is essential. Every effort will be made to ensure this is done in an ecologically sensitive manner by using our most talented experts, architects, environmental and civil engineers. We need to achieve consensus and support from everyone to ensure a secure future for Ireland and a better global environment. Local communities play a key role in the success of this project. The principle will be to improve the economic standing and environment of the areas containing the Hydro Storage Reservoirs.
The Costs
To achieve energy independence and save €15 billion in fossil fuel imports over five years, the country will need to build two Hydro Storage Reservoirs at a cost of €800m each. Wind farms will be connected to these reservoirs via a collection network. The cost of adding a MW to the network is €1.3m. Graham O’Donnell, electrical engineer with 20 years International Power Grid experience and spokesperson with Professor Igor Shvets for ‘Spirit of Ireland’ is asking people to now consider the role that we can all play in improving the state of our nation, ‘We want to get people talking about this initiative and realising that there is much we can do to determine our future. We must decide, as a nation, if we want to take this route to prosperity. We can be the controllers of our country’s financial and environmental destiny. If people want to “have their say”, we want to hear them. The purpose of the national press campaign is to actively encourage the public to register their opinion at www.spiritofireland.org’.
Mr O’Donnell continues, ‘By harnessing our wind energy resource, we have the potential to become energy independent and self reliant as a nation. As a result, we will cut our carbon emissions, our energy bill and create jobs and wealth for the future good of the country. Our people, pension funds and Government can invest in and support this initiative. This has potential to be of huge economic benefit to our country’.
The Spirit of Ireland is our people using our talents working together for our country.
Let us begin.
We invite You to register your opinion, please visit www.spiritofireland.org
‘The answer, is blowing, in the wind’ – Bob Dylan (copyright 1962)
- Ends-
For further information please contact:
Ann Corcoran / Eavan Breslin / Lynne McCormack
limetree, 20 Fitzwilliam Street Upper, Dublin 2
Office 01-6432303/01 6432304
Ann’s Mobile 087-6175411
Eavan’s Mobile 087-6086960
Lynne’s Mobile 086-2261881
ann@limetree.ie / eavan@limetree.ie / lynne@limetree.ie
Notes to Editors
Research work to date
The project team brought in expertise from J-Power (Japan), leading international consultants Knight Piesold (Canada) and Devine Tarbell (US). Rainpower (Norway) and Kema (UK) were also consulted. Major equipment suppliers Mitsubishi, Hitachi, Siemens and Toshiba provided detailed equipment specifications and costs. Geographic surveys of potential glacial valleys were undertaken.
Detailed computer models were implemented to assess storage capability of preferred sites and size of required dams. Network designs were considered and cabling options costed by quotation from large scale European suppliers/contractors. Potential power dispatch models were designed.
SIAC construction under the leadership of Managing Director Finn Lyden, evaluated the costs of dams and civil works. SISK confirmed that their costs would be similar. SIAC confirmed the feasibility of tower, penstock and component manufacture in Ireland.
Architects prepared provisional designs of the generator building and visitor’s centres and these were costed by a firm of very experienced quantity surveyors.
Environmental impacts are being assessed with assistance from senior academic colleagues from Trinity College and independent consultants. Consultation is being sought in Brussels.
Energy Independence
To replace €30 billion in imports over 10 years, a peak load of approximately 7000 MW and base load of approximately 3500 MW could be served by an additional 2500 wind turbines and two Hydro Storage Reservoirs. These could be on line in five years. Existing and presently planned Wind farms would also play their part.
Spirit of Ireland
Spirit of Ireland is a volunteer group of Engineers, Academics, Architects, Geologists, Construction, Consultants, Legal, Finance, Students, Writers, professionals and interested people from all walks of Irish life. Your opinions and participation are very welcome. By embracing this initiative, the Spirit of Ireland group believe that Irish people can play a part in deciding their own destiny and the future economic security of the country. The group is a voluntary group and are not involved in this process for any financial gain but rather the knowledge that the future of our country will be financially secure.
Graham O’Donnell - Biography
Graham O’Donnell is an Electrical and Electronics Engineer with over 20 years in control and communications of international power networks. He holds an Honours Diploma in Electrical Engineering from DIT Kevin Street and is an Honours B.Sc.(Eng.) graduate from Trinity College Dublin. He also won a Post Graduate Scholarship to the University of Paris to study Applied Systems.
Graham worked on project management of water, gas and energy projects in Ireland, Europe and Asia before founding his own company in 1988, which specialised in control of power networks and high voltage substations. His company was responsible for design of 400kv Grid Synchronisation equipment for National Grid UK, remote Substation Grid Control for Scottish Power and other large power utilities in the UK. He developed power network control systems in Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and Bahrain.
In 1988 Graham also co-founded Orbiscom, a company which developed unique technologies for Controlled Credit and Debit Card Payment. The company holds US, European and world-wide patents, which are cross-licensed to Microsoft.
Graham is a widower and proud father of four children.
Professor Igor Shvets – Biography
Igor Shvets (46) was born and grew up in Ukraine. He graduated from MFTI, one of the leading Soviet Universities in 1986 with an MSc in Electrical and Electronic Engineering, with a Certificate of Excellence. He completed a PhD in 1990 specialising in materials science.
Prof Shvets arrived in Ireland in 1990 and has been based at Trinity College since then teaching science and engineering students at undergraduate and postgraduate levels. In 2007 he was promoted to a Personal Chair, the highest university academic position. The chair is entitled Professor of Applied Physics. He leads one of Ireland’s most active and productive research groups, enjoying excellent international recognition. Prof Shvets leads the Energy theme within the School of Physics and has also established the Cleaner Energy Laboratory within Trinity College. He also regularly publishes papers in world’s leading Applied Physics journals.
Igor Shvets is probably Ireland’s most prolific inventor at present with over 50 patents and patent applications. From his academic research Igor has initiated two spin out companies, Deerac (http://www.deerac.com/) and Cellix Ltd (http://www.cellixltd.com/). Both companies are export-orientated high-tech ventures producing products invented in Ireland, excellent examples of knowledge-based economy in action.
Igor Shvets is an Irish national. He has been married to Irina, a software specialist with IBM, for 22 years and is a dedicated father of three children.
End.
www.spiritofIreland.org Leading Ireland’s Bright Future
7th May 2009 – A breakthrough national project is being launched today by the Spirit of Ireland Group. Broken into two phases - Step 1 promises Energy Independence for Ireland within 5 Years with a €10 billion stimulus to the economy. Step 2 will see energy exports from Ireland in years 6, 7 and 8 of €3 billion to €5 billion per year or up to €50 billion over the following 10 years. Both phases will seek to help secure Ireland’s financial future.
A national awareness campaign is running across the national print media today to inform the public and precipitate a national discussion in order to develop social consensus around this exciting opportunity with respect to Ireland’s future.
Over 90% of all the electricity we use is generated from imported, fossil fuels such as oil, gas and coal. We have no control over the fluctuating costs of imported fuel leaving us strategically naked and resulting in Ireland having the most expensive electricity in Europe. Over the past six months a team of very experienced Engineers, Academics, Architects, Geologists, Hydro Geologists, Environmental Engineers, Construction Experts, Consultants, Legal and Finance professionals have been working intensively on ideas proposed by Professor Igor Shvets of Trinity College. The results of this work have stunning implications for our country.
The Problems with Wind
It is essential to deal with the challenges presented by wind energy:-
Its volatility as a fuel source – it is difficult to predict, intermittent and variable in strength.
Costs involved in harvesting the wind and connection to the power network.
Instabilities created in the power network and dispatching difficulties for network operators.
Lack of energy storage capabilities.
The Solution
Hydro Storage Reservoirs resolve these difficulties by storing excess wind energy and providing more generation capacity when required. The Turlough Hill facility is a well established example of this principle.
Professor Igor Shvets has identified suitable valleys on the West Coast, which are ideally shaped. Basic rock dams in a few valleys, will provide Hydro Storage Reservoirs at modest cost. Positioned close to the sea, water volume is not an issue. Japan’s J-Power had built a successful sea water storage facility in Okinawa over 10 years ago. Senior executives and engineers from Japan visited Ireland and confirmed the validity of this approach. Filling the reservoirs with wind energy and using it when needed means that the intermittency of the wind problem is resolved. International Consultants from Canada, the US and Norway contributed to other aspects of the design.
The basic plan proposes to:
· Locate wind farms in suitable areas to harvest energy
· Save the resulting energy in Hydro Storage Reservoirs
· Natural energy released from Hydro Storage Reservoirs is instantly dispatchable and is ideal for both domestic use and export
· Secure energy supplies and save up to €30 billion in hard cash over 10 years on fossil fuel imports
As well as harnessing excess energy for export, the project will create jobs on a local and national level and lead to huge investment in throughout the country. We will have a massive impact on carbon dioxide emmissions.
Social Consensus for a Secure Future
To build a secure future for Ireland, we will have to construct the Hydro Storage Reservoirs, Wind Farms and Collection Networks and connect these to the grid to supply Natural Energy countrywide. Social consensus in the construction of these facilities is essential. Every effort will be made to ensure this is done in an ecologically sensitive manner by using our most talented experts, architects, environmental and civil engineers. We need to achieve consensus and support from everyone to ensure a secure future for Ireland and a better global environment. Local communities play a key role in the success of this project. The principle will be to improve the economic standing and environment of the areas containing the Hydro Storage Reservoirs.
The Costs
To achieve energy independence and save €15 billion in fossil fuel imports over five years, the country will need to build two Hydro Storage Reservoirs at a cost of €800m each. Wind farms will be connected to these reservoirs via a collection network. The cost of adding a MW to the network is €1.3m. Graham O’Donnell, electrical engineer with 20 years International Power Grid experience and spokesperson with Professor Igor Shvets for ‘Spirit of Ireland’ is asking people to now consider the role that we can all play in improving the state of our nation, ‘We want to get people talking about this initiative and realising that there is much we can do to determine our future. We must decide, as a nation, if we want to take this route to prosperity. We can be the controllers of our country’s financial and environmental destiny. If people want to “have their say”, we want to hear them. The purpose of the national press campaign is to actively encourage the public to register their opinion at www.spiritofireland.org’.
Mr O’Donnell continues, ‘By harnessing our wind energy resource, we have the potential to become energy independent and self reliant as a nation. As a result, we will cut our carbon emissions, our energy bill and create jobs and wealth for the future good of the country. Our people, pension funds and Government can invest in and support this initiative. This has potential to be of huge economic benefit to our country’.
The Spirit of Ireland is our people using our talents working together for our country.
Let us begin.
We invite You to register your opinion, please visit www.spiritofireland.org
‘The answer, is blowing, in the wind’ – Bob Dylan (copyright 1962)
- Ends-
For further information please contact:
Ann Corcoran / Eavan Breslin / Lynne McCormack
limetree, 20 Fitzwilliam Street Upper, Dublin 2
Office 01-6432303/01 6432304
Ann’s Mobile 087-6175411
Eavan’s Mobile 087-6086960
Lynne’s Mobile 086-2261881
ann@limetree.ie / eavan@limetree.ie / lynne@limetree.ie
Notes to Editors
Research work to date
The project team brought in expertise from J-Power (Japan), leading international consultants Knight Piesold (Canada) and Devine Tarbell (US). Rainpower (Norway) and Kema (UK) were also consulted. Major equipment suppliers Mitsubishi, Hitachi, Siemens and Toshiba provided detailed equipment specifications and costs. Geographic surveys of potential glacial valleys were undertaken.
Detailed computer models were implemented to assess storage capability of preferred sites and size of required dams. Network designs were considered and cabling options costed by quotation from large scale European suppliers/contractors. Potential power dispatch models were designed.
SIAC construction under the leadership of Managing Director Finn Lyden, evaluated the costs of dams and civil works. SISK confirmed that their costs would be similar. SIAC confirmed the feasibility of tower, penstock and component manufacture in Ireland.
Architects prepared provisional designs of the generator building and visitor’s centres and these were costed by a firm of very experienced quantity surveyors.
Environmental impacts are being assessed with assistance from senior academic colleagues from Trinity College and independent consultants. Consultation is being sought in Brussels.
Energy Independence
To replace €30 billion in imports over 10 years, a peak load of approximately 7000 MW and base load of approximately 3500 MW could be served by an additional 2500 wind turbines and two Hydro Storage Reservoirs. These could be on line in five years. Existing and presently planned Wind farms would also play their part.
Spirit of Ireland
Spirit of Ireland is a volunteer group of Engineers, Academics, Architects, Geologists, Construction, Consultants, Legal, Finance, Students, Writers, professionals and interested people from all walks of Irish life. Your opinions and participation are very welcome. By embracing this initiative, the Spirit of Ireland group believe that Irish people can play a part in deciding their own destiny and the future economic security of the country. The group is a voluntary group and are not involved in this process for any financial gain but rather the knowledge that the future of our country will be financially secure.
Graham O’Donnell - Biography
Graham O’Donnell is an Electrical and Electronics Engineer with over 20 years in control and communications of international power networks. He holds an Honours Diploma in Electrical Engineering from DIT Kevin Street and is an Honours B.Sc.(Eng.) graduate from Trinity College Dublin. He also won a Post Graduate Scholarship to the University of Paris to study Applied Systems.
Graham worked on project management of water, gas and energy projects in Ireland, Europe and Asia before founding his own company in 1988, which specialised in control of power networks and high voltage substations. His company was responsible for design of 400kv Grid Synchronisation equipment for National Grid UK, remote Substation Grid Control for Scottish Power and other large power utilities in the UK. He developed power network control systems in Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and Bahrain.
In 1988 Graham also co-founded Orbiscom, a company which developed unique technologies for Controlled Credit and Debit Card Payment. The company holds US, European and world-wide patents, which are cross-licensed to Microsoft.
Graham is a widower and proud father of four children.
Professor Igor Shvets – Biography
Igor Shvets (46) was born and grew up in Ukraine. He graduated from MFTI, one of the leading Soviet Universities in 1986 with an MSc in Electrical and Electronic Engineering, with a Certificate of Excellence. He completed a PhD in 1990 specialising in materials science.
Prof Shvets arrived in Ireland in 1990 and has been based at Trinity College since then teaching science and engineering students at undergraduate and postgraduate levels. In 2007 he was promoted to a Personal Chair, the highest university academic position. The chair is entitled Professor of Applied Physics. He leads one of Ireland’s most active and productive research groups, enjoying excellent international recognition. Prof Shvets leads the Energy theme within the School of Physics and has also established the Cleaner Energy Laboratory within Trinity College. He also regularly publishes papers in world’s leading Applied Physics journals.
Igor Shvets is probably Ireland’s most prolific inventor at present with over 50 patents and patent applications. From his academic research Igor has initiated two spin out companies, Deerac (http://www.deerac.com/) and Cellix Ltd (http://www.cellixltd.com/). Both companies are export-orientated high-tech ventures producing products invented in Ireland, excellent examples of knowledge-based economy in action.
Igor Shvets is an Irish national. He has been married to Irina, a software specialist with IBM, for 22 years and is a dedicated father of three children.
End.
Ireland CAN PROSPER within 5 years!!
"Ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for for your country"
I quote JFK's immortal words because I need the help of the Irish blogging community to spread a vital message and create a debate on a proven natural energy solution which will make Ireland energy independent and an economically strong nation.
In recent months I've personally worked in a very small way on this solution with a purely voluntary team calling itself Spirit of Ireland. The team is composed of Irish people who include skilled engineers, architects, academics, geologists, construction consultants, finance specialists, legal experts and many others.
You may have noticed the full page adverts in today's newspapers and interviews on Pat Kenny's RTE radio program this morning with two of the Spirit of Ireland's key people. Various Government Depts. have already had meetings with the Spirit of Ireland and early feedback is already very encouraging.
I quote JFK's immortal words because I need the help of the Irish blogging community to spread a vital message and create a debate on a proven natural energy solution which will make Ireland energy independent and an economically strong nation.
In recent months I've personally worked in a very small way on this solution with a purely voluntary team calling itself Spirit of Ireland. The team is composed of Irish people who include skilled engineers, architects, academics, geologists, construction consultants, finance specialists, legal experts and many others.
You may have noticed the full page adverts in today's newspapers and interviews on Pat Kenny's RTE radio program this morning with two of the Spirit of Ireland's key people. Various Government Depts. have already had meetings with the Spirit of Ireland and early feedback is already very encouraging.
Please go to http://www.spiritofireland.org/ to learn more and get involved in a national debate. You will find a red button with "PLEASE, PLEASE TELL US WHAT YOU THINK!"
So what I really need Bloggers to do is to spread the word virally through the blogging community and get Ireland as a nation to debate this idea. This is truly a YES WE CAN opportunity for your country!
Also see copy of today's press release... http://earthanduniverse.blogspot.com/2009/05/dramatic-wind-power-solution-to-irish.html
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Thoughts on US Masters and Golf Generally
I'm increasingly enjoying watching major golf tournaments on TV. Over Easter I was well tuned in to the four days of the US Masters in Augusta, Georgia. BBC had coverage in High Definition via the Sky HD box and the golf course looked glorious on our 50 inch HD plasma TV. Taking in the many panoramas of this beautiful location (example photo on left) sometimes made you forget about the golf and agree with the spirit of the sentiment associated with Mark Twain...that roaming a golf course is a beautiful walk - but spoiled by having to hit balls!Personally, I only play golf once per year at a nice annual event organised by a company whom I do business with. I don't even own a set of clubs and I've a hopelessly short golf swing - spawned from my youth of playing short pitch and putt courses. It's just as well that the yearly event is in a team scramble format as I would not be allowed near a golf course otherwise. Thankfully my putting is average enough to escape total embarrassment. Overall I find golf a very frustrating game to play and I'm a great admirer of people who can play it properly. As an active tennis player I'm used to hitting the fast moving target of a tennis ball. In a golf drive the ball is a pleasingly stationary target and there is plenty of time to prepare for the shot.....yet it is still so hard to do it right!
So, I'm a keen golf watcher rather than a golf player. But I'm beginning to think I've been watching too much of it recent years. This fact just dawned on me because by middle of the third day of the tournament by some miracle I actually successfully picked Angel Cabrera to win the Masters. Why? Well my reasoning was twofold. During Saturday two average guys who had never won a major before were leading the tournament (Chad Campbell and Kenny Perry). I also noticed that Angel's score was creeping up to get nearer. I had watched Angel play and win the 2007 US Open. His demeanor always gives me the impression of a guy who is relaxed and doesn't tighten mentally on big occasions. So I felt...well Angel might not be as skilled as the best in the game but he should be mentally better than Chad and Kenny when it comes to the crunch on the final day.
On a slightly different subject, an observation stuck me when it got to the exciting 3-man playoff. The three finalists were all technically overweight with varying sized bellies! Kenny Perry is 48 years old and could have made history by being the oldest winner of this - or indeed any - major tournament. Both he and to a lesser extent Chad Campbell had visible paunches. But Angel Cabrera (photo left) is even more overweight and at 40 later this year he is not exactly in the flush of youth either. His shape and mannerisms on the course reminded me fondly of my late father (who was a keen golfer himself). The three of them were such a contrast to the superbly trim, athletic and toned Tiger Woods. It all re-enforces the commonly stated joke that playing golf well is 50% mental....and the other 50% is mental too!There were plenty of other interesting players to watch in this years Masters. Tiger Woods was coming back, we had the great Phil Mickelson and of course the wonderful Irish interests with Padraig Harrington, Graeme McDowell and the exciting new force of the teenager Rory McIlroy.
Looking forward to the US Open in June!
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Rome and Vatican at Night
A view along the river Tiber towards St. Peters Basilica. Taken during our August holiday. A challenging shot as it was hand held at 1/4 sec and 1600 ISO.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
The haunting Pantheon
When we visited Rome in August one of the buildings which had a profound affect on me was the Pantheon. In the bustle of a colourful city square with modern restaurants and buildings was this sepia toned ancient hulking and somewhat disturbing Roman ghost. It totally dominated the square in such a silent and eerie way...the history of 2,000 years etched on its scarred profile. It seemed to exude a menacing boast that all our modern architecture in this square could never match the majesty and longevity of this amazing building built by the bare hands of thousands and thousands of workers with the most basic of tools.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Love Story
In February I had a Flickrmail from a young Californian man called James. He told me that his girlfriend Emmi was studying in Ireland and he was about to travel over to Ireland to meet up with her on St. Patrick's Day. James said that he was planning to propose to Emmi during his visit and wanted my advise on a nice quiet and scenic coastal location in Dublin for the proposal. Wow, talk about putting me under pressure, LOL! After a little thought I suggested the above elevated location in a large parkland at Killiney Hill and gave him detailed directions.
I didn't think I would hear from James again. However late last month I got another Flickrmail from a very happy James. He told me that the proposal went very well on Killiney Hill and that they both loved the location! So I'm sure you will all join me in congratulating James and Emmi on their Irish engagement.
I took the above shot a few weels ago ago as a little tribute to the happy couple while I was up for a regular walk on Killiney Hill. The inserts are photos from James and Emmi which they took themselves on Killiney Hill just after the successful proposal. Yes I know the blended image is probably a bit mushy and sentimental...but I'm an incurable romantic, LOL!
You can visit James and Emmi's Irish proposal page photos at www.flickr.com/photos/jamesemmi/page22/
I didn't think I would hear from James again. However late last month I got another Flickrmail from a very happy James. He told me that the proposal went very well on Killiney Hill and that they both loved the location! So I'm sure you will all join me in congratulating James and Emmi on their Irish engagement.
I took the above shot a few weels ago ago as a little tribute to the happy couple while I was up for a regular walk on Killiney Hill. The inserts are photos from James and Emmi which they took themselves on Killiney Hill just after the successful proposal. Yes I know the blended image is probably a bit mushy and sentimental...but I'm an incurable romantic, LOL!
You can visit James and Emmi's Irish proposal page photos at www.flickr.com/photos/jamesemmi/page22/
Saturday, March 15, 2008
The Arrival of Columbus
This is my attempt to interpret the essence of one of my favourite short poems "The Caravels" written in about 1918.
It's such a simple yet powerfully descriptive poem from the viewpoint of a Native American. I love the man's shock and lack of understanding of how the huge ships are moving - only having being used to little canoes with paddles or oars. But in particular the line "His fallen hands forgetting all their shells" is what I focused on in the image. The forgotten shells of course are a physical symbol of the change about to take place from his old way of life. This is why the shells are emphasised a bit brighter and translucent to the sunlight. Also we are told Columbus landed in morning time - hence the low Sun from the east.
Methodology...
The seashore is not the West Indies but a shot I took in Donegal last year!
The Indian is me in silhouette - with a Halloween mask/wig! Taken indoors recently and added to original.
The shells were collected in Sandycove beach and added later with some computerised movement effects.
The three caravel images were found on the Internet and blended in.
The Caravels - by J. C. Squire
There was an Indian, who had known no change,
Who strayed content along a sunlit beach Gathering shells.
He heard a sudden strange Commingled noise: looked up; and gasped for speech.
For in the bay, where nothing was before,
Moved on the sea, by magic, huge canoes
With bellying cloths on poles, and not one oar,
And fluttering coloured signs and clambering crews.
And he, in fear, this naked man alone,
His fallen hands forgetting all their shells,
His lips gone pale, knelt low behind a stone,
And stared, and saw, and did not understand,
Columbus's doom-burdened caravels
Slant to the shore, and all their seaman land.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Spring-Time!
My youngest daughter Shona (18) enjoys a few jumps around the garden on Sunday afternoon.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
What a Turkey!
The Irish national song contest to chose a song for the Eurovision usually bores the hell out of me and I haven't watched it for years...and I didn't watch it this year either. I must admit that initially I cringed on hearing that we had selected a glove puppet - Dustin the Turkey.
I watched the video on the net today and I felt a bit better. I've always said over the last few years that what we needed was a good punchy visual stage extravaganza. This act pulled it off fairly well. It's a crap song and Dustin can't sing but the words are funny and I also wouldn't underestimate the hypnotic effects on the voting masses of the regularly repeated words... "Irelande douze pointe"! He looks funny too and there's dancers and colour etc. The Eurovision is now a money sucking operation aimed at the millions of fools who pay to vote on instant impact entertainment...it is unfortunately no longer an outlet for exposing great music - which often has to be listened to repeatedly to fully appreciate.
I saw also a video of Dustin being interviewed on Sky News....an ideal exposure for him...the TV equivalent the Daily Mirror for instant appeal sugar coated stories. One big thought came to me from watching the Sky interview...ironically it shows we have grown up somewhat as a nation. Twenty years ago we would have been far too embarrassed to put such an act together. We had an inferiority complex as a nation....we would be afraid that other countries - especially Britain - would laugh AT us.
Now it's different. We are confident in ourselves, we stand shoulder to shoulder with the best nations and are better off and more skilled than most of them. We've won the Eurovision seven times - more often than any country. If we want to do something different and put on a light hearted fun show at the Eurovision - then why not!? If it does very well (as it might) it will be the perfect statement of what the Eurovision has become.
Go on ya good thing!
Saturday, February 23, 2008
"Am I Walking into Eternity...
...along Sandymount Strand?" (Stephen in the novel Ulysses by James Joyce)
I went for a walk along Sandymount Strand, Dublin at dusk this evening. It's truly a massive expanse of beach when the tide is out. I thought about the character of Stephen in the novel Ulysses and his philosophical musings as he walked on the same strand in 1904.
Yes it's a timer self portrait and yes the camera got dirty with sand!
I went for a walk along Sandymount Strand, Dublin at dusk this evening. It's truly a massive expanse of beach when the tide is out. I thought about the character of Stephen in the novel Ulysses and his philosophical musings as he walked on the same strand in 1904.
Yes it's a timer self portrait and yes the camera got dirty with sand!
Thursday, February 21, 2008
"Brooding Darkness...
...spreads his jealous wings, and the night raven sings". (John Milton from start of the epic poem L'Allegro).
Spotted in Blackrock Park last week during full daylight and given a bit of Moonlight treatment in Photoshop. This general approach was often used in old Hollywood movies - filmed in daylight but darkened and tinted to give a night look - also called "nuite americaine" effect.
Spotted in Blackrock Park last week during full daylight and given a bit of Moonlight treatment in Photoshop. This general approach was often used in old Hollywood movies - filmed in daylight but darkened and tinted to give a night look - also called "nuite americaine" effect.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Friends
My daughter Shona (right) and her pal Alannah enjoying their dual 18th birthday party last August.
I like this shot because of the way their good friendship is so obvious and the gentle way Shona holds Alannah's hand. I always think that friendships made at school at that age can last a lifetime, even as they go on to lead different lives.
I like this shot because of the way their good friendship is so obvious and the gentle way Shona holds Alannah's hand. I always think that friendships made at school at that age can last a lifetime, even as they go on to lead different lives.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
The Old Man and the Birds
I look this photo last Autumn in Stephens Green Dublin. I've often noticed elderly people taking a interest in being near birds and feeding them etc. So maybe it's something I need to watch out for as a sign as I get older!
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Oasis
Water dispenser in a remote part of Donegal, Ireland.
I played on the computer with selective colour as you can see.
I played on the computer with selective colour as you can see.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Go Forth My Child
Sorry I've been quiet for awhile on the Blog side. My main hobby in the last year has been photography and related interaction with the Flickr photographic web site. Tennis also occupies my time.
I haven't thought of much to say in the blog lately so when I'm feeling blank maybe I'll just post the occasional photo which I've been uploading to Flickr. This shot was taken at home with flash photography of a pose by my eldest daughter Amy and I. The background was added later in Photoshop. It's loosely based on the "Creation of Adam" painting by Michelangelo.
I haven't thought of much to say in the blog lately so when I'm feeling blank maybe I'll just post the occasional photo which I've been uploading to Flickr. This shot was taken at home with flash photography of a pose by my eldest daughter Amy and I. The background was added later in Photoshop. It's loosely based on the "Creation of Adam" painting by Michelangelo.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Two Books on Martin Cahill - aka The General
I wrote recently on people's attitudes to the human sides of criminals. This was prompted by Frances Cahill's appearance on the Late Late Show last month to talk about her new book Martin Cahill - My Father. I found myself subsequently buying and reading her book. Given that it was a daughter writing the book I felt it prudent to get an overall balanced view, so I simultaneously purchased and read the book The General by crime journalist Paul Williams.
Surprisingly to me, there was a reasonable amount of consistency about the human side of Martin Cahill in both books. I certainly came away with the view that the man was clever, imaginative, witty, full of ironies and indeed caring for family and friends. He wasn't involved in the drug business and although he certainly injured, terrorised and robbed many people, it clearly seems true that he didn't kill anyone (although there is much evidence on a few cases where it seems he may have tried). Oddly too perhaps for an underworld figure - Cahill neither drank alcohol nor smoked and was not a high social flyer or casual womaniser.
I found both books good reads but there was much more weight and substance in the Paul Williams book. Incidentally the Williams book also inspired the movie The General - in which actor Brendan Gleeson played a great part (and does have a good resemblance facially to photos of Martin Cahill). Having said that, Frances Cahill put together an interesting inside view of Martin Cahill the family man. It's possible by reading both books to unravel a little the areas which may be a daughter's natural tendency to glorify her father. One noticable feature was also Frances Cahill's bitterness to the authorities and the policing service. In spite on the many factual consistencies between the books, there is much left unsaid in Frances Cahill's book (she claims not to know about many things her father was allegedly up to) and there are also some differences. Frances, for instance, doesn't seem to like or accept the notion of her mother and her mother's sister both being lovers of her father. Williams treats this area quite sensitively, claiming that the sisters both loved him and shared him in full understanding with each other and that both had a number of children by him. A kind of happy ménage-a-trois. Williams claims that Martin Cahill was very respectful to women and was indeed very family oriented - as Frances claims too of course.
I've also spoken to a few of my friends who knew the General - one who was a neighbour in the middle-class Cowper Downs area of Rathgar and another who was a detective at the time. From all I've learned on the man my attitude to Cahill has weaved through all sorts of thoughts. My final overall impression is one of a fairly detestable and dangerous individual to most outside his circle of friends and family, but a nonetheless complex and interesting figure. He certainly was very different to other underworld people in his era and in spite of all the ugly activity there is much ironic humour and even warm humanity in evidence. I really would recommend reading the Paul Williams book. It's quite rivetting and actually seems to come across with a balanced treatment on The General's positive and negative traits. The Frances Cahill book does offer some additional internal family insight and certain other information - but it does not present anything like a full view of the General's alleged activities (and indeed to be fair it doesn't claim to). I would certainly only recommend it as a read after having read the Williams book.
Surprisingly to me, there was a reasonable amount of consistency about the human side of Martin Cahill in both books. I certainly came away with the view that the man was clever, imaginative, witty, full of ironies and indeed caring for family and friends. He wasn't involved in the drug business and although he certainly injured, terrorised and robbed many people, it clearly seems true that he didn't kill anyone (although there is much evidence on a few cases where it seems he may have tried). Oddly too perhaps for an underworld figure - Cahill neither drank alcohol nor smoked and was not a high social flyer or casual womaniser.
I found both books good reads but there was much more weight and substance in the Paul Williams book. Incidentally the Williams book also inspired the movie The General - in which actor Brendan Gleeson played a great part (and does have a good resemblance facially to photos of Martin Cahill). Having said that, Frances Cahill put together an interesting inside view of Martin Cahill the family man. It's possible by reading both books to unravel a little the areas which may be a daughter's natural tendency to glorify her father. One noticable feature was also Frances Cahill's bitterness to the authorities and the policing service. In spite on the many factual consistencies between the books, there is much left unsaid in Frances Cahill's book (she claims not to know about many things her father was allegedly up to) and there are also some differences. Frances, for instance, doesn't seem to like or accept the notion of her mother and her mother's sister both being lovers of her father. Williams treats this area quite sensitively, claiming that the sisters both loved him and shared him in full understanding with each other and that both had a number of children by him. A kind of happy ménage-a-trois. Williams claims that Martin Cahill was very respectful to women and was indeed very family oriented - as Frances claims too of course.
I've also spoken to a few of my friends who knew the General - one who was a neighbour in the middle-class Cowper Downs area of Rathgar and another who was a detective at the time. From all I've learned on the man my attitude to Cahill has weaved through all sorts of thoughts. My final overall impression is one of a fairly detestable and dangerous individual to most outside his circle of friends and family, but a nonetheless complex and interesting figure. He certainly was very different to other underworld people in his era and in spite of all the ugly activity there is much ironic humour and even warm humanity in evidence. I really would recommend reading the Paul Williams book. It's quite rivetting and actually seems to come across with a balanced treatment on The General's positive and negative traits. The Frances Cahill book does offer some additional internal family insight and certain other information - but it does not present anything like a full view of the General's alleged activities (and indeed to be fair it doesn't claim to). I would certainly only recommend it as a read after having read the Williams book.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
1913 Rural Ireland...stunning colour photographs!
I visited the In Search of Ireland exhibition in Temple Bar recently. I would highly recommend it.
It's a fascinating story. Two French ladies, Madelaine Mignon-Alba and Marguerite Mespoulet, aged in their early thirties visited Ireland during May and June of 1913. They were equipped with camera equipment and the newly invented autochrome colour photographic plates. They were destined to capture the first colour photographs of Ireland and it's people. The women were recent graduates of the French based Albert Kahn foundation which aimed to document and photograph the people and places in remote parts of the World which were likely to be subject to irrevocable change in the near future. The women travelled from the Galway area gradually eastwards through the midlands and ended up on the east coast around the Meath area. They seem to have avoided Dublin city and other large towns and were concentrating on the rural people, their appearance, lifestyle and landscape.
When we think of the rural Irish people in the early 1900s the images we have are invariably in B&W. To see the faces and garments of the local people in full colour gives a whole new dimension. I was completely blown away by the exhibition for number of reasons....
The notes and observations made by the French women were just as impressive as the colour images. What came across to me very much was that although many of the country folk were shy of the visitors with their cameras they still warmed to them. I think that being women and French made a difference. They were not a threat as part of any landlord system and the French were traditionally friends of Ireland at least in their common opposition to the British (the enemy of my enemy is my friend!). The intended photography was not part of any oppressive agenda. Nobody photographed was trying to either impress or be obstructive. Indeed - in spite of the 10 second exposure requiring people to be a bit still and stiff -the people appeared really natural in their genuine daily lives.
Madelaine and Marguerite noticed some women with a very dark haired and Hispanic look and postulated that the strong past Spanish Armada connections with Ireland would have produced this genetic feature. I smile to myself at this as we Irish today often think that the recent arrival of settling immigrants is unique in our history.
One of the photos which really wowed me was that of the young dark haired woman with the bright red shawl. On first glance at the girl's features in this amazing colour photograph she could easily pass for a Leaving Cert student in Ireland today. On closer inspection of the photograph the life of hardship does show...her hands and fingers are toughened and nails are grimy from hard manual work and indeed the same could be said about her bare feet. Her teeth look yellowy and in need of modern care!
Although the photographers were in Ireland in the summer months they were greeted with very high winds and much rain throughout their visit which was a painful parallel to the tough, bleak and often tragic lifestyles which they encountered. Some of the notes mention the baron nature of Connemara and the often wide separation of tiny isolated dwellings a well as the presence of typhoid and other sicknesses. They do however also mention some of the stories of the people and their simple optimism. One little story about stones and a cure for headaches stuck a personal reminder for me of the type of tales and cures my paternal granny (who was from a rural background) used to tell me when I was a child. We really are not so far separated from this type of Ireland..and seeing colour photographs of the early 1900s does bring this to mind even more.
There are 54 photos in the collection and plenty of interesting accompanying notes. I would dearly love to read all the notes that these ladies took on their visit, it would make for a great publication. It was not possible to buy any copies of the photographs and photography in the exhibition was not allowed. I did however naughtily sneak a rushed and blurred phone camera shot of the wall print of the girl with the red shawl. This shot does not do any justice as in the original image there is much detail to enjoy in the face and hands.
It's a fascinating story. Two French ladies, Madelaine Mignon-Alba and Marguerite Mespoulet, aged in their early thirties visited Ireland during May and June of 1913. They were equipped with camera equipment and the newly invented autochrome colour photographic plates. They were destined to capture the first colour photographs of Ireland and it's people. The women were recent graduates of the French based Albert Kahn foundation which aimed to document and photograph the people and places in remote parts of the World which were likely to be subject to irrevocable change in the near future. The women travelled from the Galway area gradually eastwards through the midlands and ended up on the east coast around the Meath area. They seem to have avoided Dublin city and other large towns and were concentrating on the rural people, their appearance, lifestyle and landscape.
When we think of the rural Irish people in the early 1900s the images we have are invariably in B&W. To see the faces and garments of the local people in full colour gives a whole new dimension. I was completely blown away by the exhibition for number of reasons....
The notes and observations made by the French women were just as impressive as the colour images. What came across to me very much was that although many of the country folk were shy of the visitors with their cameras they still warmed to them. I think that being women and French made a difference. They were not a threat as part of any landlord system and the French were traditionally friends of Ireland at least in their common opposition to the British (the enemy of my enemy is my friend!). The intended photography was not part of any oppressive agenda. Nobody photographed was trying to either impress or be obstructive. Indeed - in spite of the 10 second exposure requiring people to be a bit still and stiff -the people appeared really natural in their genuine daily lives.
Madelaine and Marguerite noticed some women with a very dark haired and Hispanic look and postulated that the strong past Spanish Armada connections with Ireland would have produced this genetic feature. I smile to myself at this as we Irish today often think that the recent arrival of settling immigrants is unique in our history.
One of the photos which really wowed me was that of the young dark haired woman with the bright red shawl. On first glance at the girl's features in this amazing colour photograph she could easily pass for a Leaving Cert student in Ireland today. On closer inspection of the photograph the life of hardship does show...her hands and fingers are toughened and nails are grimy from hard manual work and indeed the same could be said about her bare feet. Her teeth look yellowy and in need of modern care!
Although the photographers were in Ireland in the summer months they were greeted with very high winds and much rain throughout their visit which was a painful parallel to the tough, bleak and often tragic lifestyles which they encountered. Some of the notes mention the baron nature of Connemara and the often wide separation of tiny isolated dwellings a well as the presence of typhoid and other sicknesses. They do however also mention some of the stories of the people and their simple optimism. One little story about stones and a cure for headaches stuck a personal reminder for me of the type of tales and cures my paternal granny (who was from a rural background) used to tell me when I was a child. We really are not so far separated from this type of Ireland..and seeing colour photographs of the early 1900s does bring this to mind even more.
There are 54 photos in the collection and plenty of interesting accompanying notes. I would dearly love to read all the notes that these ladies took on their visit, it would make for a great publication. It was not possible to buy any copies of the photographs and photography in the exhibition was not allowed. I did however naughtily sneak a rushed and blurred phone camera shot of the wall print of the girl with the red shawl. This shot does not do any justice as in the original image there is much detail to enjoy in the face and hands.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Do we want to hear about the warm human side of major criminals?
I watched Pat Kenny's TV interview on Friday with Frances Cahill - daughter of the late notorious Dublin criminal Martin Cahill who was also known as The General. Frances has written a book about her father. From what I can gather she has written it from the perspective of a child's view of her father as she was growing up.
Seemingly Martin Cahill was a loving father and Frances' has very good memories of him as she growing up. So the book was an attempt I suppose to show another side of the much hated criminal. Predictably, the messages sent into the show were almost entirely very negative about giving any airtime to a book that showed a warm side to this nasty criminal.
I'm not in a position to offer any useful specific comments on this new book as I have not read it. However, the barrage of negative comments coming in (presumably from people who had not read the book - as it is just published) set me thinking a little of how society view people who do evil. I think we often view criminals as inhuman monsters who have no right to respect for any positive human qualities. We do not want to hear about the side of an evil criminal who loves his daughter and reads her a bedtime story. We fear that by airing such notions that the criminal could be wrongly made to look humane and therefore lessen the evil of their crimes.
Life is never black and white the way we would like it to be. People are never pure 100% evil. But if my own life had been ruined by somebody like the General then I'll admit that my initial tendency would be to winch at the thought of listening to his kind human qualities.
On a bigger scale this attitude also applies in dealing with political dictators and terrorist leaders. Very often democratic leaders cannot accept that such people are anything but psychotic lunatics. No point at all in negotiating, listening and learning how to work such people around to more sensible ways. But like it or not, evil dictators are often lovers of art and music and are tender with children and families. At fundamental levels they are not as different to you and I as we like to believe. They become obsessed on a particular negative track and correcting inputs get ignored or dismissed. But there are many examples of people being persuaded to turn their back completely on violence and evil and leading normal productive lives.
A big subject and I'm not a psychologist, but certainly food for thought. By understanding people better at all levels maybe we have some of the ingredients to approach correction. Closing our ears to the full person seems wrong.
Seemingly Martin Cahill was a loving father and Frances' has very good memories of him as she growing up. So the book was an attempt I suppose to show another side of the much hated criminal. Predictably, the messages sent into the show were almost entirely very negative about giving any airtime to a book that showed a warm side to this nasty criminal.
I'm not in a position to offer any useful specific comments on this new book as I have not read it. However, the barrage of negative comments coming in (presumably from people who had not read the book - as it is just published) set me thinking a little of how society view people who do evil. I think we often view criminals as inhuman monsters who have no right to respect for any positive human qualities. We do not want to hear about the side of an evil criminal who loves his daughter and reads her a bedtime story. We fear that by airing such notions that the criminal could be wrongly made to look humane and therefore lessen the evil of their crimes.
Life is never black and white the way we would like it to be. People are never pure 100% evil. But if my own life had been ruined by somebody like the General then I'll admit that my initial tendency would be to winch at the thought of listening to his kind human qualities.
On a bigger scale this attitude also applies in dealing with political dictators and terrorist leaders. Very often democratic leaders cannot accept that such people are anything but psychotic lunatics. No point at all in negotiating, listening and learning how to work such people around to more sensible ways. But like it or not, evil dictators are often lovers of art and music and are tender with children and families. At fundamental levels they are not as different to you and I as we like to believe. They become obsessed on a particular negative track and correcting inputs get ignored or dismissed. But there are many examples of people being persuaded to turn their back completely on violence and evil and leading normal productive lives.
A big subject and I'm not a psychologist, but certainly food for thought. By understanding people better at all levels maybe we have some of the ingredients to approach correction. Closing our ears to the full person seems wrong.
Friday, October 12, 2007
What were you doing when....JFK was shot?
I thought I'd try an occasional little series on personal memories of important events in history. I'd love some of you to write a comment on your own memories of the event. As I was born in 1955 I do understand that some of the events may be too far back for many of you to comment on.
I'm starting off with the JFK assassination which is probably the earliest Worldwide historical event I can remember as it happened.
Without even checking a calender I can recall that 22nd November 1963 fell on a Friday. My parents did not yet have television at the time. However my uncle and his wife did have a television and I often went over on a Friday night to see some programmes in their house. Their house was right behind ours and accessed from our back garden via a laneway into their back garden. So that evening I was merrily enjoying some interesting movie on RTE (Telifis Eireann as it was called then) in the inglorious days of snowy B&W receptions. The movie was interrupted and a newsflash came up. A rather stunned looking news presenter - the famous Charles Mitchell - came on the screen to say that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas and had been rushed to hospital. Even as an eight year old I was more than a little shocked. Kennedy was adored in our household and had only been over to Ireland in summer of the same year.
My aunt-in-law's mother was watching the newsflash with me and she was in a terrible state over it. She carefully told me to rush home and tell my parents about this shocking news.
I ran out the back door and across the laneway to our house. I told my mother that President Kennedy had been shot. She just laughed and told me that I was confused. She knew I'd gone over to watch a movie and she announced that I must have been watching the movie "PT109" which was about the young JFK and his adventures in the US navy during the Pacific war. It took quite a bit of explaining to convince her to turn on the wireless. Eventually the radio confirmed my version of events and the household went into turmoil. I recall that initially there was hope that Kennedy might live but they speculated that the head wound could render him useless. Not long afterwards the death was confirmed.
I've written before on how important a figure Kennedy was to Irish people. It was almost as if a family member had died and the mood in the house descended into a deep sadness. I recall the lady next door coming in and bawling her eyes out. Most households had Kennedy photographs on the walls and mantelpieces at the time. After his death there were even more pictures put up which began to partly compete with religious pictures as incitements to prayer and homage.
I'm starting off with the JFK assassination which is probably the earliest Worldwide historical event I can remember as it happened.
Without even checking a calender I can recall that 22nd November 1963 fell on a Friday. My parents did not yet have television at the time. However my uncle and his wife did have a television and I often went over on a Friday night to see some programmes in their house. Their house was right behind ours and accessed from our back garden via a laneway into their back garden. So that evening I was merrily enjoying some interesting movie on RTE (Telifis Eireann as it was called then) in the inglorious days of snowy B&W receptions. The movie was interrupted and a newsflash came up. A rather stunned looking news presenter - the famous Charles Mitchell - came on the screen to say that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas and had been rushed to hospital. Even as an eight year old I was more than a little shocked. Kennedy was adored in our household and had only been over to Ireland in summer of the same year.
My aunt-in-law's mother was watching the newsflash with me and she was in a terrible state over it. She carefully told me to rush home and tell my parents about this shocking news.
I ran out the back door and across the laneway to our house. I told my mother that President Kennedy had been shot. She just laughed and told me that I was confused. She knew I'd gone over to watch a movie and she announced that I must have been watching the movie "PT109" which was about the young JFK and his adventures in the US navy during the Pacific war. It took quite a bit of explaining to convince her to turn on the wireless. Eventually the radio confirmed my version of events and the household went into turmoil. I recall that initially there was hope that Kennedy might live but they speculated that the head wound could render him useless. Not long afterwards the death was confirmed.
I've written before on how important a figure Kennedy was to Irish people. It was almost as if a family member had died and the mood in the house descended into a deep sadness. I recall the lady next door coming in and bawling her eyes out. Most households had Kennedy photographs on the walls and mantelpieces at the time. After his death there were even more pictures put up which began to partly compete with religious pictures as incitements to prayer and homage.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Dublin can be Heaven.
I had an opportunity to pop briefly into St. Stephens Green yesterday in early afternoon while on business. It was a lovely sunny Autumn afternoon and the place was like a paradise of nature within the busy city. I'm sure so many city workers de-stress briefly in this wonderful park on a daily basis.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Country road..take me home!
Dublin's M50 orbital motorway encloses a warm womb within which I am nurtured. Inside these castle walls I am spoiled with good straight roads, lights at night, slow traffic and low speed limits. Considering the volume of cars, bad car crashes are infrequent and fatalities very rare. I drive down straight wide roads where speed limits of 50kph are enforced with vigour and I feel I am driving at pedestrian pace.
I venture outside the safe womb on to secondary country roads and the feeling changes. Winding narrow roads, blind bends, pitch dark at night. But the speed limit says 80kph or even 100kph. I barely feel safe doing 50kph winding these roads. A representative and well known example to many on the eastern side of Ireland is the very winding road by the river leading from Enniskerry village in Wicklow to the N11 dual carriageway near Bray. Technically it is feasible to weave enthusiastically down this rally driver's paradise at the designated 80kph speed limit. But by golly it is not a safe exercise. If anything unusual happens you are a goner. And of course speed checks never seem to happen on such roads...ironically the police probably feel it too dangerous to attempt.
Something is seriously wrong with this logic. Predictably, most of the almost daily rituals of road deaths seem to be on secondary country roads. Very often it is a single vehicle accident where the driver crashes into a tree or goes off the road at a bend. Young drivers probably feel like wimps if they can't keep up with the message on the ridiculous speed limit signs.
It would seem to me like a no-brainer decision to reduce the speed limit on secondary country roads and enforce it properly.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
The Famine Statues
As with many Irish people, there is one view in Dublin which never fails to emotionally affect me. It is the vista of the iron Famine Statues along the river Liffey quays when seen against the backdrop of the modern glass pyramid shapes on the Ulster Bank HQ. My heart races from commingled emotions of pain and pride. If ever there was a single place which crystalizes Ireland's emergence on many levels then this is surely it.
The mid 19th century famine was a huge event in more ways than we Irish today even consider at a fully conscious level. It is still Freudianly lingering in our subconscious like a genetic imprint. Yes, I know it wasn't a famine in the clinical sense. The rural Irish were over-dependant on the potato with it's big food value per acre for poor families with small fields. I'm not getting into the blame game here as it is possible to throw shots at the British authorities, landlords and the Irish farmers...this is a separate debate. But over a modest period the event contributed to unbelievable misery and the population of Ireland was more than halved through death and emigration.
Many of us have stories in our families which are passed down from the famine. Stories of death and disease and loss of dignity abounded. My father came from a rural background and I always noticed that his family had an irrational fear of hunger. They had enough food of course but they did worry about the potential of going hungry. My mother was from a city background in Derry but they also had memories of the great hunger through Donegal connections. I know other intermediate factors played a bigger part such as shortages in the war years, generally poor pay, etc. But I'm absolutely convinced that the famine was still imprinted in the dark corridors of their brains. They passed similar irrational fears on to my generation. It manifests itself in subtle ways. Have we enough food in the house? What happens if we run out of something? Ilogical hoarding is still present in small ways and we don't even realise it. We hate to see people hungry. The Irish give more generously to Worldwide famine relief per capita than almost any nation on Earth. Even mention the word famine and it still hurts Irish people.
Volumes have been written on Irish emigration from famine times and beyond. It still amazes me how many people Worldwide have Irish roots and who have since then given something back in so many diverse ways. From careful study of the finer points in history it also touches me how many poor nations from various parts of the World were generous with contributions to Ireland during a time of bad communication in the mid 1800s famine years. Even native American Indians and Mexicans for instance. Little to give...but gave a lot.
The famine statues...surrounded by prosperity...a time gate...a tangible reminder of what we came from and where we are. Go there...reflect.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Rocky IV
Okay, following on from the last two posts, we had the tennis championship finals on Saturday. My main physical preparation was a medium 350 calories treadmill run on Friday followed by some sit ups. Oh, and plenty of deep heat for my poor tennis elbow before the match!
So the finals match took place in good conditions for tennis - cloudy, no wind and around 15C. My opponent at 6'2" was 4 inches taller, as well as younger, thinner and faster. He likes to sneak into the net and use his long arms to play volleys or hit overhead smashes. Not a massive hitter in terms of power and a very average server. So my plan was to put him under pressure right from the serve with power shots. As we got going my plan was working like a dream. I got to 3-0 and then he got better but I still managed to get to 5-3 up. I was rifling shots past him as he came to the net - which was part of my plan. However he eventually read this situation well and started to stay back at the baseline much more. I found it increasingly harder to put him under enough pressure and I even started to make more unforced errors. He played a bit better himself and pulled off the first set 7-5.
This was rather frustrating having been ahead by so much. It had been a long one hour first set. My tennis elbow was getter sore, my muscles were tiring. But I just gritted it out and again went off into a 3-0 lead and then continued to a 5-2 lead. After this he creeped back into the match. I can't fully put my finger on it, I think it was a combination of him slightly improving, me slowing slightly and either not hitting hard enough or making too many unforced errors. Either way we ended up at a tiebreak at 6-6. I went ahead in the tiebreak as well but I got a bit sloppy in my shots and ended up losing the set and the match. So he won the finals 7-5; 7-6. It was over two hours long and we were told it was a great match for the spectators. I guess I should be happy that I gave this talented guy a great fight and in truth I certainly had all the chances to have won it. But c'est la vie!
Well it was fun and we had a great spirited party afterwards in the clubhouse. As my youngest daughter wisely said to me later...there are always people better than you in sport...all you can do is keep improving your personal best. It's certainly nice to feel an ability to be competitive in sport when older. Fun and fitness can't be a bad combination!
So the finals match took place in good conditions for tennis - cloudy, no wind and around 15C. My opponent at 6'2" was 4 inches taller, as well as younger, thinner and faster. He likes to sneak into the net and use his long arms to play volleys or hit overhead smashes. Not a massive hitter in terms of power and a very average server. So my plan was to put him under pressure right from the serve with power shots. As we got going my plan was working like a dream. I got to 3-0 and then he got better but I still managed to get to 5-3 up. I was rifling shots past him as he came to the net - which was part of my plan. However he eventually read this situation well and started to stay back at the baseline much more. I found it increasingly harder to put him under enough pressure and I even started to make more unforced errors. He played a bit better himself and pulled off the first set 7-5.
This was rather frustrating having been ahead by so much. It had been a long one hour first set. My tennis elbow was getter sore, my muscles were tiring. But I just gritted it out and again went off into a 3-0 lead and then continued to a 5-2 lead. After this he creeped back into the match. I can't fully put my finger on it, I think it was a combination of him slightly improving, me slowing slightly and either not hitting hard enough or making too many unforced errors. Either way we ended up at a tiebreak at 6-6. I went ahead in the tiebreak as well but I got a bit sloppy in my shots and ended up losing the set and the match. So he won the finals 7-5; 7-6. It was over two hours long and we were told it was a great match for the spectators. I guess I should be happy that I gave this talented guy a great fight and in truth I certainly had all the chances to have won it. But c'est la vie!
Well it was fun and we had a great spirited party afterwards in the clubhouse. As my youngest daughter wisely said to me later...there are always people better than you in sport...all you can do is keep improving your personal best. It's certainly nice to feel an ability to be competitive in sport when older. Fun and fitness can't be a bad combination!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Rocky III
So from last post you can see that I survived a tough three-setter last Saturday to get to the semi-finals of the club tennis Plate championships. It was so tough that I aggravated a mild tennis elbow pain somewhat into a more painful injury. The semi-finals were scheduled for tonight.
On Sunday I had a usual Sunday morning doubles fun match and it was obvious that the tennis elbow was sore and also my muscles were still aching generally. Yesterday I did a medium 300 calorie workout on the gym treadmill to help my aerobic fitness and also some mild sit-ups. I avoided any arm exercises and later got some deep heat and other cream to help the tennis elbow.
So tonight I had the semi finals. The guy I was playing had just wiped out a fairly good player in the quarter finals (6-1; 6-2). My opponent was older than me (for a change!) and his style of play is very much error-free tennis and great placement. Certainly not a super fast guy or even a big hitter. But he would frustrate the soul out of you by keeping rallies going forever until you would make a mistake, tire out, or he would place the ball very well to beat you. He is notorious for giving good players a lot of trouble.
Anyway my plan was to hit harder and come into the net when appropriate to volley and shorten the rallies. After rubbing plenty of deep heat cream into my sore elbow we got going. The first set was tough and long but after a lot of concentration and effort my strategy largely paid off and I took the set 6-3.
I was feeling good now and that's not always an ideal emotion. He took a nasty lead in the second set to go 3-1 up. Mentally I was now struggling with self belief. I had to try to psyche myself that I could successfully hit big shots. I knew raw power with good placement could trouble him. I gradually got a bit better and went into a 5-3 lead and I was serving for the match. I blew that opportunity and he was serving at 4-5. With a bit more self belief and effort I managed to break him back and won the match 6-3; 6-4. It was long for a two setter at about 90 minutes.
So, I'm in the finals on Saturday...yippee!!! I don't even care if I lose the finals now, it's a great thrill to get this far. But I'll give it a good try anyway!
I also know who I'll be playing in the final...a very tall and fast lean guy who is about 6 years younger who loves to volley at the net. He's not a very big hitter and his serve is quite average. He is very tough though with his long arms at the net and his mobility and good placement. We shall see! At least I'll have a bit of finals glory with spectators watching and a party afterwards!
On Sunday I had a usual Sunday morning doubles fun match and it was obvious that the tennis elbow was sore and also my muscles were still aching generally. Yesterday I did a medium 300 calorie workout on the gym treadmill to help my aerobic fitness and also some mild sit-ups. I avoided any arm exercises and later got some deep heat and other cream to help the tennis elbow.
So tonight I had the semi finals. The guy I was playing had just wiped out a fairly good player in the quarter finals (6-1; 6-2). My opponent was older than me (for a change!) and his style of play is very much error-free tennis and great placement. Certainly not a super fast guy or even a big hitter. But he would frustrate the soul out of you by keeping rallies going forever until you would make a mistake, tire out, or he would place the ball very well to beat you. He is notorious for giving good players a lot of trouble.
Anyway my plan was to hit harder and come into the net when appropriate to volley and shorten the rallies. After rubbing plenty of deep heat cream into my sore elbow we got going. The first set was tough and long but after a lot of concentration and effort my strategy largely paid off and I took the set 6-3.
I was feeling good now and that's not always an ideal emotion. He took a nasty lead in the second set to go 3-1 up. Mentally I was now struggling with self belief. I had to try to psyche myself that I could successfully hit big shots. I knew raw power with good placement could trouble him. I gradually got a bit better and went into a 5-3 lead and I was serving for the match. I blew that opportunity and he was serving at 4-5. With a bit more self belief and effort I managed to break him back and won the match 6-3; 6-4. It was long for a two setter at about 90 minutes.
So, I'm in the finals on Saturday...yippee!!! I don't even care if I lose the finals now, it's a great thrill to get this far. But I'll give it a good try anyway!
I also know who I'll be playing in the final...a very tall and fast lean guy who is about 6 years younger who loves to volley at the net. He's not a very big hitter and his serve is quite average. He is very tough though with his long arms at the net and his mobility and good placement. We shall see! At least I'll have a bit of finals glory with spectators watching and a party afterwards!
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Rocky II !!!
From my last post you will see that I was whipped in the first round of the club tennis championships by the classy No. 2 seeded player.
BUT......the club had organised a Plate competition for all the first round losers. Mmmmh...rebirth?
So I had my first round match in the Plate competition today. Up against another much younger guy, who is also a fast fit gym rat and a big hitter.
We played in today's hot midday Sun for well over two hours. It was gruelling. I felt I needed to win the first set to have a chance as my fitness is not too high lately due to pure laziness in avoiding the gym and I reckoned I wouldn't last a three setter. Well I made the worst of starts, I LOST the first set 4-6. Not good news!!! I was a bit dejected. But it was a close match and I felt I'd room for improvement.
I won the second set 6-2. But I was tiring, the games were long and close. We then swapped games in the third set to get to 3-3. At this stage I was very burned out. My legs wouldn't respond as well, he was firing shots past me. The age and fitness difference was catching up as we now were about two hours into this marathon match. I was looking down the barrel of defeat.
My mind picks up interesting messages when I'm in trouble. Another idea from boxing came into my head....your punching power stays longer than your legs....a puncher always has a chance. I decided to hit harder shots, go for it more, if I can put him under pressure I might have less running to do! It was pushing myself to the limit but I gave it a go. It was risky and even sloppy at times, but it did start to slowly make a difference. I pulled it off to win the final set 6-3.
So, I'm heading into the semi-final of the competition, yay!! Stay tuned for more!
BUT......the club had organised a Plate competition for all the first round losers. Mmmmh...rebirth?
So I had my first round match in the Plate competition today. Up against another much younger guy, who is also a fast fit gym rat and a big hitter.
We played in today's hot midday Sun for well over two hours. It was gruelling. I felt I needed to win the first set to have a chance as my fitness is not too high lately due to pure laziness in avoiding the gym and I reckoned I wouldn't last a three setter. Well I made the worst of starts, I LOST the first set 4-6. Not good news!!! I was a bit dejected. But it was a close match and I felt I'd room for improvement.
I won the second set 6-2. But I was tiring, the games were long and close. We then swapped games in the third set to get to 3-3. At this stage I was very burned out. My legs wouldn't respond as well, he was firing shots past me. The age and fitness difference was catching up as we now were about two hours into this marathon match. I was looking down the barrel of defeat.
My mind picks up interesting messages when I'm in trouble. Another idea from boxing came into my head....your punching power stays longer than your legs....a puncher always has a chance. I decided to hit harder shots, go for it more, if I can put him under pressure I might have less running to do! It was pushing myself to the limit but I gave it a go. It was risky and even sloppy at times, but it did start to slowly make a difference. I pulled it off to win the final set 6-3.
So, I'm heading into the semi-final of the competition, yay!! Stay tuned for more!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Stand up and fight until you hear the bell!
When do you know that you're licked, past it, a has-been? I've trouble admitting it sometimes and it was very tangibly manifested to me recently in a tennis match.
Now I'm a late-comer to tennis. I only joined a tennis club in my late 30s and at the time I couldn't hit an overheard serve to save my life! I've improved a lot since then and today I win singles matches more than I lose them against good quality club level players. So it has almost been a flush of youth seeing myself getting better and better at tennis even as I visibly aged....like a good wine or the picture of Dorian Gray in the attic!
However, being realistic, I'm 52 and overweight and I've no right to expect too much from my tennis skills. Recently I entered our club championships and in the first round I was unlucky to be up against the No. 2 seeded player in the club! Now this guy grew up on tennis courts, coached all the way. He's also half my age, fit and athletic. Listing our statistics side by side you would laugh and Paddy Power would make you a millionaire from a €1 flutter if I were to win.
The sad part is that I genuinely thought I had a shot at beating him. I even hit the gym for a few days before the encounter to improve my speed and fitness.
An optimistic start took place in the match. We had two long opening games and we each held serve. After that it was all downhill! I tried really hard and we had loads of very close games where I reached deuce or my advantage. I kept him really busy for an hour and twenty minutes. Sadly, but hardly surprisingly, the score ended 6-1; 6-1 in his favour. He complimented me afterwards and said he had to really concentrate to win.
I do recall several thoughts flashing into my head after each point which this great young tennis player won....
There was something Muhammad Ali had said after his loss in his last ever fight against Trevor Berbick..."I could sense his youth during the fight!"
Or the reply from the mother in the movie "The Goodbye Girl" when told after a tough rehearsal that the local dance group were looking for someone younger...."Okay" she panted. "I'll work on it!"
Why did I beat myself up thinking I could win this match? When I'm out on court a competitive streak kicks in and I just give it everything. I get annoyed with myself if I play badly but I never get annoyed with my opponent.
So when do you decide that you are past it? I'm not ready yet to admit it I'm afraid. I'm tempted to go back to the gym and get ready for next year!!
I'll borrow another quotation from boxing, this time from George Foreman who was knocked to the canvass during a fight against Ron Lyle in the mid 1970s. He told himself as he lay on the ground..
"What are you doing on the ground, George? Get up and win!"
He did get up and then knocked out Ron Lyle in the next round to win the fight. In fact George Foreman went on and on to prove what older athletes could achieve by regaining the World title when aged in his forties.
Get up and win! What a simple and effective motivating phrase to repeat when you seem down and out. It's a phrase I've tried to use all my adult life.
Now I'm a late-comer to tennis. I only joined a tennis club in my late 30s and at the time I couldn't hit an overheard serve to save my life! I've improved a lot since then and today I win singles matches more than I lose them against good quality club level players. So it has almost been a flush of youth seeing myself getting better and better at tennis even as I visibly aged....like a good wine or the picture of Dorian Gray in the attic!
However, being realistic, I'm 52 and overweight and I've no right to expect too much from my tennis skills. Recently I entered our club championships and in the first round I was unlucky to be up against the No. 2 seeded player in the club! Now this guy grew up on tennis courts, coached all the way. He's also half my age, fit and athletic. Listing our statistics side by side you would laugh and Paddy Power would make you a millionaire from a €1 flutter if I were to win.
The sad part is that I genuinely thought I had a shot at beating him. I even hit the gym for a few days before the encounter to improve my speed and fitness.
An optimistic start took place in the match. We had two long opening games and we each held serve. After that it was all downhill! I tried really hard and we had loads of very close games where I reached deuce or my advantage. I kept him really busy for an hour and twenty minutes. Sadly, but hardly surprisingly, the score ended 6-1; 6-1 in his favour. He complimented me afterwards and said he had to really concentrate to win.
I do recall several thoughts flashing into my head after each point which this great young tennis player won....
There was something Muhammad Ali had said after his loss in his last ever fight against Trevor Berbick..."I could sense his youth during the fight!"
Or the reply from the mother in the movie "The Goodbye Girl" when told after a tough rehearsal that the local dance group were looking for someone younger...."Okay" she panted. "I'll work on it!"
Why did I beat myself up thinking I could win this match? When I'm out on court a competitive streak kicks in and I just give it everything. I get annoyed with myself if I play badly but I never get annoyed with my opponent.
So when do you decide that you are past it? I'm not ready yet to admit it I'm afraid. I'm tempted to go back to the gym and get ready for next year!!
I'll borrow another quotation from boxing, this time from George Foreman who was knocked to the canvass during a fight against Ron Lyle in the mid 1970s. He told himself as he lay on the ground..
"What are you doing on the ground, George? Get up and win!"
He did get up and then knocked out Ron Lyle in the next round to win the fight. In fact George Foreman went on and on to prove what older athletes could achieve by regaining the World title when aged in his forties.
Get up and win! What a simple and effective motivating phrase to repeat when you seem down and out. It's a phrase I've tried to use all my adult life.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
A tale of two 35 year old Irish fathers
On Sunday I watched with elation as 35 year old Padraig Harrington reached the pinnacle of his profession in golf by winning the British Open. It was heartwarming. He embraced his son and his wife. Happiness and warm positive feelings everywhere.
Meanwhile another tall well groomed 35 year old Irish father was spending his first day of a lifetime sentence in prison for the brutal murder of his wife. Joe O'Reilly had potential of achieving for himself and his family the positive happiness sensations of a Padraig Harrington. I wonder if he watched the TV and reflected. Two personifications of the zenith and the nadir of the human spirit.
Meanwhile another tall well groomed 35 year old Irish father was spending his first day of a lifetime sentence in prison for the brutal murder of his wife. Joe O'Reilly had potential of achieving for himself and his family the positive happiness sensations of a Padraig Harrington. I wonder if he watched the TV and reflected. Two personifications of the zenith and the nadir of the human spirit.
Friday, June 29, 2007
John F. Kennedy's Irish visit...a brief reflection.
I'm possibly one of the youngest people alive who has a distinct recollection of John F. Kennedy's visit to Ireland in the summer of 1963. I was eight years old at the time. Today marks the 44th anniversary of Kennedy's departure from Ireland at the end of his visit.
One very representative memory actually came from my eighteen year old cousin who was staying in our house as a student in Dublin. She set off on her bicycle to Dublin airport to try to see the President. She left late and was warned by my mother that she would see nothing due to all the crowds. In any event she returned home after a few hours in a high state of excitement. My cousin related to us how she had been peddling along the road on the way to the airport when to her shock she saw the presidential cavalcade approaching up ahead. Stumbling off her bicycle she stood as a lone isolated figure on the roadside and began waving at the big limousine. To her utter amazement President Kennedy spotted the tall attractive lass with the bicycle on the roadside and waved back to her! Well I don't think my cousin could have felt any better if she had been given a personal autograph from the four Beatles!
It's hard to get across today to people how hugely important the Kennedy visit was at the time. Kennedy helped to teach all age groups in Ireland to stop being shy and introverted as part of a small nation. John Fitzgerald Kennedy was a great grandchild of Irish emigrants. In many ways he remained a very pure Irish figure from both his paternal and maternal roots. Here he was coming back to Ireland as president of the most powerful nation on Earth. And he was one of us. Plus he was charming, full of humour, young, tall and handsome and had time for everyone he met. It's often a dull cliche when Americans say they love Ireland but there is ample evidence that Kennedy's love was genuine and heartfelt. Personal stories abound of him making time to mingle longer than scheduled with so many local people during his visit.
All his speeches including the address to the Irish Parliament were powerful and easy to follow - even for me as an eight year old kid. He was a great motivator, he respected everything Ireland had achieved and showed us we can reach any goals we dream of. Kennedy himself was living proof of this.
Some of you will remember the idolatry the man enjoyed in Ireland in the 1960s following his visit and indeed his assassination that same year. In our house and most others there were pictures of Kennedy on the wall which enjoyed a respect and reverence only narrowly beaten in intensity by the Sacred Heart of Jesus picture. There was open weeping when Kennedy died and everyone in Ireland from my age upwards can tell you exactly what they were doing when they heard of his shooting.
I don't think it is any exaggeration to say that Kennedy's presidency was the genesis of considerable tangible American commercial interest in Ireland coupled with a growing self-belief that we Irish could stand tall with any nation.
One very representative memory actually came from my eighteen year old cousin who was staying in our house as a student in Dublin. She set off on her bicycle to Dublin airport to try to see the President. She left late and was warned by my mother that she would see nothing due to all the crowds. In any event she returned home after a few hours in a high state of excitement. My cousin related to us how she had been peddling along the road on the way to the airport when to her shock she saw the presidential cavalcade approaching up ahead. Stumbling off her bicycle she stood as a lone isolated figure on the roadside and began waving at the big limousine. To her utter amazement President Kennedy spotted the tall attractive lass with the bicycle on the roadside and waved back to her! Well I don't think my cousin could have felt any better if she had been given a personal autograph from the four Beatles!
It's hard to get across today to people how hugely important the Kennedy visit was at the time. Kennedy helped to teach all age groups in Ireland to stop being shy and introverted as part of a small nation. John Fitzgerald Kennedy was a great grandchild of Irish emigrants. In many ways he remained a very pure Irish figure from both his paternal and maternal roots. Here he was coming back to Ireland as president of the most powerful nation on Earth. And he was one of us. Plus he was charming, full of humour, young, tall and handsome and had time for everyone he met. It's often a dull cliche when Americans say they love Ireland but there is ample evidence that Kennedy's love was genuine and heartfelt. Personal stories abound of him making time to mingle longer than scheduled with so many local people during his visit.
All his speeches including the address to the Irish Parliament were powerful and easy to follow - even for me as an eight year old kid. He was a great motivator, he respected everything Ireland had achieved and showed us we can reach any goals we dream of. Kennedy himself was living proof of this.
Some of you will remember the idolatry the man enjoyed in Ireland in the 1960s following his visit and indeed his assassination that same year. In our house and most others there were pictures of Kennedy on the wall which enjoyed a respect and reverence only narrowly beaten in intensity by the Sacred Heart of Jesus picture. There was open weeping when Kennedy died and everyone in Ireland from my age upwards can tell you exactly what they were doing when they heard of his shooting.
I don't think it is any exaggeration to say that Kennedy's presidency was the genesis of considerable tangible American commercial interest in Ireland coupled with a growing self-belief that we Irish could stand tall with any nation.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
A new Government with a rub of the Green.
Some brief comments....
1. I'm very pleased for Brian Lenihan being made Minister for Justice. He has impressed me a lot in recent years. He is a calm intelligent man of barrister background who never gets caught out in any tough debates. Something about the man's demeanor makes me wonder if he could be Taoiseach material in the distant future....post Biffo (Brian Cowan) I guess. It's also nice to see him carrying the torch of his late father and namesake.
2. The Greens in Government. It can only do good for us all. I think they might be maturing as a party. I've been impressed by Eamon Ryan in debates. John Gormley less so, but let's see what happens. But it's clever how roads were taken out of Environment (Gormley's gig) into Transport and also Roche signing the M3 as his last act. All prearranged with the Greens in the recent hot talks - I've little doubt at all on this.
3. It's a major achievement for Bertie Ahern and assures him of a unique place in history. The tribunal is the only thing which could tarnish him now. However it's looking less likely as Tom Gilmartin's credibility as a witness is fading somewhat following recent retractions etc.
FG and Labour must be as sick as parrots. FF have the numbers, flexibility and clout to do deals with anyone to stay in Government. I've said this again and again in previous Blogs...FG must get bigger organically on their own, they've made a good recovery from the last election and I'm sure their day in the sun will come. As good as Brian Cowan might be as a vote getter and his nice Santa Claus budgets, I don't think he has great personality, nor he is ideal Taoiseach material in the wake of Bertie Ahern. If Biffo leads FF into the next election and FG have Enda Kenny and strong candidates - they could beat FF.
Anyway, a good Government seems to have been formed in my opinion.
1. I'm very pleased for Brian Lenihan being made Minister for Justice. He has impressed me a lot in recent years. He is a calm intelligent man of barrister background who never gets caught out in any tough debates. Something about the man's demeanor makes me wonder if he could be Taoiseach material in the distant future....post Biffo (Brian Cowan) I guess. It's also nice to see him carrying the torch of his late father and namesake.
2. The Greens in Government. It can only do good for us all. I think they might be maturing as a party. I've been impressed by Eamon Ryan in debates. John Gormley less so, but let's see what happens. But it's clever how roads were taken out of Environment (Gormley's gig) into Transport and also Roche signing the M3 as his last act. All prearranged with the Greens in the recent hot talks - I've little doubt at all on this.
3. It's a major achievement for Bertie Ahern and assures him of a unique place in history. The tribunal is the only thing which could tarnish him now. However it's looking less likely as Tom Gilmartin's credibility as a witness is fading somewhat following recent retractions etc.
FG and Labour must be as sick as parrots. FF have the numbers, flexibility and clout to do deals with anyone to stay in Government. I've said this again and again in previous Blogs...FG must get bigger organically on their own, they've made a good recovery from the last election and I'm sure their day in the sun will come. As good as Brian Cowan might be as a vote getter and his nice Santa Claus budgets, I don't think he has great personality, nor he is ideal Taoiseach material in the wake of Bertie Ahern. If Biffo leads FF into the next election and FG have Enda Kenny and strong candidates - they could beat FF.
Anyway, a good Government seems to have been formed in my opinion.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Another daughter turns 21!
Our middle daughter, Jill, turned 21 today. It's a nice feeling for us as parents. You think back to her day of birth.
9th June 1986 was a lovely sunny day in Dublin - just like today was. Jill was born at 6.55 am. She was 24 days late and maybe that helped her to turn out to be nearly 9 pounds at birth!
I'll never forget walking down Grafton Street afterwards in the sunshine to buy flowers. It felt amazing. You would think that having experienced the joy of out firstborn, Amy, that a second birth would be getting routine. That was so far from the truth. Maybe because we had been through confusion and fear etc. with a first time experience it was now a time to focus more on the wonders of it all this time. And now there was Amy at two and half years old to be told about it all and be part of it. It was brilliant bringing Amy in to see her new little sister. The start of a lifelong friendship.
Jill has already had her party, so today we had fun with her opening presents. As I type this she is enjoying Beyonce in concert at the Point in Dublin with a pal.
Life ain't too bad at all!
9th June 1986 was a lovely sunny day in Dublin - just like today was. Jill was born at 6.55 am. She was 24 days late and maybe that helped her to turn out to be nearly 9 pounds at birth!
I'll never forget walking down Grafton Street afterwards in the sunshine to buy flowers. It felt amazing. You would think that having experienced the joy of out firstborn, Amy, that a second birth would be getting routine. That was so far from the truth. Maybe because we had been through confusion and fear etc. with a first time experience it was now a time to focus more on the wonders of it all this time. And now there was Amy at two and half years old to be told about it all and be part of it. It was brilliant bringing Amy in to see her new little sister. The start of a lifelong friendship.
Jill has already had her party, so today we had fun with her opening presents. As I type this she is enjoying Beyonce in concert at the Point in Dublin with a pal.
Life ain't too bad at all!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Sgt Pepper taught the band to play!
A bit of deserved publicity yesterday for the Beatles with the Sgt Pepper album's 40th anniversary. I was only twelve at the time but I recall all the hype. It was a big transitional album for the Fab 4 and it got me more and more interested in the Beatles. I think this album was a big artistic break for them and moved them on to being much more than a good pop band with catchy music. What a great album cover too.
I loved Sgt Pepper, The White double album (I recall listening to every single track of it live on radio the night before release - on Radio Luxembourg or Radio Caroline - Grandad on Head Rambles might recall which!), Let it Be and my personal favourite album Abbey Road. I love singing or quoting some mad Beatles lyrics when I'm in a good mood, they are so retro and typical sixties pseudo philosophical. Some examples include...
* Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, a girl with kaleidoscope eyes.
* It's wonderful to be here, it's certainly a thrill, you're such a lovely audience we'd like to take you home with us, we'd love to take you home.
* What would you think if I sang out of tune, would you stand up and walk out on me?
* You should see Polythene Pam, she's so good looking but she looks like a man!
* Hey Bungalow Bill, what did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
* When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom
I loved Sgt Pepper, The White double album (I recall listening to every single track of it live on radio the night before release - on Radio Luxembourg or Radio Caroline - Grandad on Head Rambles might recall which!), Let it Be and my personal favourite album Abbey Road. I love singing or quoting some mad Beatles lyrics when I'm in a good mood, they are so retro and typical sixties pseudo philosophical. Some examples include...
* Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, a girl with kaleidoscope eyes.
* It's wonderful to be here, it's certainly a thrill, you're such a lovely audience we'd like to take you home with us, we'd love to take you home.
* What would you think if I sang out of tune, would you stand up and walk out on me?
* You should see Polythene Pam, she's so good looking but she looks like a man!
* Hey Bungalow Bill, what did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
* When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom
* She came in through the bathroom window, protected by a silver spoon
The latter line was used wonderfully to title a great mad photo done my a young Leaving Cert student in Dublin I've noticed that even many young people still enjoy the Beatles.
Live long and prosper, may The Force be with you!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
People whose voices I like...
Blankpaige wrote an interesting piece about some radio presenters whose voices she liked and disliked.
I've tried to think of 10 male and 10 female voices that I've liked listening to over the years. Note that I'm purely judging the sound of the voice, I'm not necessarily a fan of the person. They are also not in any particular order of favourites, nor have I put long thought into this (I'll probably think of others afterwards or regret some of the ones I've chosen!).
Men...
1. Vincent Price - I loved his unique clear, haunting, slightly aristocratic mellow tones.
2. Anthony Hopkins - great clear distinct poetic voice. "I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti...fffhhh fffhhh fffhh".
3. Richard Burton - similar reasons as for Hopkins. They are both Welsh of course.
4. Gay Byrne - great intonation and expression, impossible to lose interest in what he is saying.
5. Ian Paisley - a passionate and decisive voice. I love mimicking him (I'm told I do it well!).
6. John F. Kennedy - nice positive delivery, smooth and easy to listen to Boston accent.
7. Ronald Reagan - could inspire and move in his speeches with his soft yet passionate voice
8. John Cleese - great stiff upper lip voice with so many interesting characteristics.
9. Pat Kenny - probably has the clearest diction and best delivery of all Irish broadcasters
10. Terry Wogan - distinctive, laid-back and easy to listen to.
Women.....
1. Hilary Clinton - clear and positive.
2. Mary Robinson - throaty and deep, but pleasant and distinctive.
3. Meryl Streep - soft and wide ranging in expression.
4. Julia Roberts - good clear and pleasant American accent.
5. Audrey Hepburn - sophisticated, friendly, fragile, nice mixture of English/Continental tones.
6. Barbara Stanwick - a bassy voice with good delivery.
8. Jodie Foster - slightly nasal, distinctive and easy to listen to.
9. Grace Kelly - soft and regal.
10. Jennifer Lopez - quite smooth and warm NY accent.
If I was to pick a voice I've personally loved more than any other...it would be that of my spouse. She has a nice soft blend of her parents Derry/Donegal accents peppered with south east Dublin tones. But I'm biased!
I've tried to think of 10 male and 10 female voices that I've liked listening to over the years. Note that I'm purely judging the sound of the voice, I'm not necessarily a fan of the person. They are also not in any particular order of favourites, nor have I put long thought into this (I'll probably think of others afterwards or regret some of the ones I've chosen!).
Men...
1. Vincent Price - I loved his unique clear, haunting, slightly aristocratic mellow tones.
2. Anthony Hopkins - great clear distinct poetic voice. "I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti...fffhhh fffhhh fffhh".
3. Richard Burton - similar reasons as for Hopkins. They are both Welsh of course.
4. Gay Byrne - great intonation and expression, impossible to lose interest in what he is saying.
5. Ian Paisley - a passionate and decisive voice. I love mimicking him (I'm told I do it well!).
6. John F. Kennedy - nice positive delivery, smooth and easy to listen to Boston accent.
7. Ronald Reagan - could inspire and move in his speeches with his soft yet passionate voice
8. John Cleese - great stiff upper lip voice with so many interesting characteristics.
9. Pat Kenny - probably has the clearest diction and best delivery of all Irish broadcasters
10. Terry Wogan - distinctive, laid-back and easy to listen to.
Women.....
1. Hilary Clinton - clear and positive.
2. Mary Robinson - throaty and deep, but pleasant and distinctive.
3. Meryl Streep - soft and wide ranging in expression.
4. Julia Roberts - good clear and pleasant American accent.
5. Audrey Hepburn - sophisticated, friendly, fragile, nice mixture of English/Continental tones.
6. Barbara Stanwick - a bassy voice with good delivery.
8. Jodie Foster - slightly nasal, distinctive and easy to listen to.
9. Grace Kelly - soft and regal.
10. Jennifer Lopez - quite smooth and warm NY accent.
If I was to pick a voice I've personally loved more than any other...it would be that of my spouse. She has a nice soft blend of her parents Derry/Donegal accents peppered with south east Dublin tones. But I'm biased!
Monday, May 28, 2007
Michael McDowell's exit from politics
The actor John Cleese starred in a series of hilarious sales training videos in the 1980s. In one such video Cleese was a weak salesman who nevertheless was warm and friendly to his prospective clients, and they in turn loved him. In one scene Cleese is sitting in an office with one of his prospects and the client is enjoying a big cigar given to him by Cleese. The client tells Cleese how much he enjoys his visits and loves chatting to him. The phone on the client's desk then rings and he takes the call from reception. He seems irritated. After hanging up he says to Cleese:
"I'm really sorry, I'm afraid I'll have to take leave of you now. It's so annoying, you are my favourite visitor. But I've got to see a right bastard down at reception who keeps selling me tons of stuff!"
If ever there was a summary of Michael McDowell as a political creature it might be that he was similar to the successful but detested salesman at reception in the above video. McDowell was not always liked, he could be arrogant, aloof, egotistical, impulsive even. But he was visionary, skillful, single minded, and he got results.
Michael McDowell successfully tackled the insurance compensation culture in Ireland, created conditions for reduced insurance premiums, started the Garda Reserve, added many tough laws on crime and the gangland culture as well as anti social behaviour measures. Not all in the conservative legal World agreed with his tough measures, but McDowell came from a strong legal background himself and knew what could be achieved. I've also written before on how right he was to try to extend the licensing laws to provide many more cafe bars in Ireland.
Even in defeat and departure from politics McDowell was controversial and impulsive. An all or nothing man in many ways. I had thought he would be a great leader in the PDs but in truth he was a lone but skilled maverick. He was not always good at warming to and motivating people, both in his party and with the electorate. He did seem conscious of this as time moved along and I detected he was slowly working on improving his image. I still believe he achieved more in his post as Minister for Justice than anyone before him. Irish politics has lost a powerful, energetic and colourful character who also indeed provided much entertainment for the media.
To borrow from Theodore Roosevelt "...his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."
"I'm really sorry, I'm afraid I'll have to take leave of you now. It's so annoying, you are my favourite visitor. But I've got to see a right bastard down at reception who keeps selling me tons of stuff!"
If ever there was a summary of Michael McDowell as a political creature it might be that he was similar to the successful but detested salesman at reception in the above video. McDowell was not always liked, he could be arrogant, aloof, egotistical, impulsive even. But he was visionary, skillful, single minded, and he got results.
Michael McDowell successfully tackled the insurance compensation culture in Ireland, created conditions for reduced insurance premiums, started the Garda Reserve, added many tough laws on crime and the gangland culture as well as anti social behaviour measures. Not all in the conservative legal World agreed with his tough measures, but McDowell came from a strong legal background himself and knew what could be achieved. I've also written before on how right he was to try to extend the licensing laws to provide many more cafe bars in Ireland.
Even in defeat and departure from politics McDowell was controversial and impulsive. An all or nothing man in many ways. I had thought he would be a great leader in the PDs but in truth he was a lone but skilled maverick. He was not always good at warming to and motivating people, both in his party and with the electorate. He did seem conscious of this as time moved along and I detected he was slowly working on improving his image. I still believe he achieved more in his post as Minister for Justice than anyone before him. Irish politics has lost a powerful, energetic and colourful character who also indeed provided much entertainment for the media.
To borrow from Theodore Roosevelt "...his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Proportional Representation - enjoy the ride!
Many Americans, British and others are confused by the PR voting system and even Fianna Fail many decades ago hated it and tried to get rid of it. But in the last few elections FF in particular have been getting good at vote management with their supporters using the PR single transferable vote (STV) system .
On Friday and Saturday it should be fun studying all the voting patterns, surpluses, transfers on 2nd, 3rd preferences etc. And with manual counting it's going to offer plenty of slow suspense!
Our PR system offers each voter a chance to help elect several candidates who are considered compatible with the voter's desires. With good knowledge of people in the constituency there are many clever possibilities.
For example, if one person is likely to smash the quota (e.g. a popular party leader or a powerful local person) then their surplus can help drag in second weaker candidate with 2nd preferences. This depends on party or pact loyalty being strong.
In another possible case, if one candidate is likely to be elected, but without a useful surplus, then it might make sense for some supporters to vote for a weaker compatible candidate as first preference. If the weak candidate gets elected than that's good. If they get eliminated - well at least your second preference can usually go to helping the prime candidate. If the prime candidate is already elected at that stage of counting by reaching the quota, then the 3rd preference can even help a further compatible candidate. In this case if too many voted for the moderately prime candidate as first preference and they barely reach the quota - then your 2nd preferences for the weaker candidate will not even be counted.
These are just examples of the logic that might be applied and every constituency will have it's own special features. As you can imagine - this vote management game needs careful co-ordination to get the best effect - it could easily go badly wrong if the numbers and estimates are not balanced right. In the end it's the people's choice and there is only so much that parties can attempt with working the system.
Let's get ready to rumble!
On Friday and Saturday it should be fun studying all the voting patterns, surpluses, transfers on 2nd, 3rd preferences etc. And with manual counting it's going to offer plenty of slow suspense!
Our PR system offers each voter a chance to help elect several candidates who are considered compatible with the voter's desires. With good knowledge of people in the constituency there are many clever possibilities.
For example, if one person is likely to smash the quota (e.g. a popular party leader or a powerful local person) then their surplus can help drag in second weaker candidate with 2nd preferences. This depends on party or pact loyalty being strong.
In another possible case, if one candidate is likely to be elected, but without a useful surplus, then it might make sense for some supporters to vote for a weaker compatible candidate as first preference. If the weak candidate gets elected than that's good. If they get eliminated - well at least your second preference can usually go to helping the prime candidate. If the prime candidate is already elected at that stage of counting by reaching the quota, then the 3rd preference can even help a further compatible candidate. In this case if too many voted for the moderately prime candidate as first preference and they barely reach the quota - then your 2nd preferences for the weaker candidate will not even be counted.
These are just examples of the logic that might be applied and every constituency will have it's own special features. As you can imagine - this vote management game needs careful co-ordination to get the best effect - it could easily go badly wrong if the numbers and estimates are not balanced right. In the end it's the people's choice and there is only so much that parties can attempt with working the system.
Let's get ready to rumble!
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Internet fame?
I was in the local Off License this evening. A nice lady approached me and said...
"Hello, John, isn't it?"
Who is this person I thought? I hate when I forget people I've met before. She looked a lot like a neighbour we knew from a previous address, but seemed a bit taller.
"Ah, Eleanor! I haven't seen you in ages", I offered.
"No, I'm Esther" she said.
This was getting weird. Senility is setting in. But at least I got the first and last letters right! I surely don't know an Esther...do I!?
"I'm Claire's mother".
Mmmh, maybe a mother of one of my daughters' friends?
I struggled to think of a Claire. This friendly lady could see I was having difficulty.
"Gingerpixel's Mum! I saw your photograph on the Internet from the photo shoot on Killiney beach".
Ah, the penny dropped! Esther did indeed look like my blogging/photography pal Claire/Gingerpixel. We then exchanged a few pleasantries.
I can safely say that this is the only time in my life that a stranger has identified and spoken to me based on a photo on the Internet. The World is changing!
"Hello, John, isn't it?"
Who is this person I thought? I hate when I forget people I've met before. She looked a lot like a neighbour we knew from a previous address, but seemed a bit taller.
"Ah, Eleanor! I haven't seen you in ages", I offered.
"No, I'm Esther" she said.
This was getting weird. Senility is setting in. But at least I got the first and last letters right! I surely don't know an Esther...do I!?
"I'm Claire's mother".
Mmmh, maybe a mother of one of my daughters' friends?
I struggled to think of a Claire. This friendly lady could see I was having difficulty.
"Gingerpixel's Mum! I saw your photograph on the Internet from the photo shoot on Killiney beach".
Ah, the penny dropped! Esther did indeed look like my blogging/photography pal Claire/Gingerpixel. We then exchanged a few pleasantries.
I can safely say that this is the only time in my life that a stranger has identified and spoken to me based on a photo on the Internet. The World is changing!
Friday, May 18, 2007
I'm voting for Fianna Fail and PDs
I don't think I've read one pro Government blog for so long in the election run-up. It's far cooler to be anti-establishment. But I'm brave. Forget all the silly media hype of scoring on individual events, who-said-what and Bertie's modest personal transactions etc. Here's the real deal...
The current Government is a coalition. It works well and has been stable for so long because FF and PDs have similar ideologies and the PDs are of course an original FF offshoot. Plus the PDs are very small but make a useful contribution. There is much hype about McDowell. He has arguably an irritating personality - but by golly he is the best Minister for Justice I can recall in my lifetime. Exactly the right decisive man for the job.
We have largely forgotten about how bad coalitions can normally be. FG+Labour+Greens is quite a bizarre cocktail of ideologies and has a high chance of failure when difficult choices come about. It may not always be apparent at the top table but you can be sure that grass roots in the respective parties will cause hell when it gets hot on policy implementations.
I don't trust this inexperienced Rainbow coalition to do any better on health or spending. It's much more likely they will squabble and argue and waste more time and money. Much of the problem in health is in sorting efficiencies in hospital management, sorting out consultants, increasing services and improving and balancing public and private care. It's certainly not to do with shortage of funding. The Government have a plan in place, it's slow and difficult but it is making progress. Do we really want to tear it all up and start again with a new government of very mixed colours? Can't you imagine FG and Labour arguing over private/public? Not apparent now? Everything sounds rosy when your just talking from the sidelines. Just wait to see them in Government making real and tough decisions.
The bottom line is I like stable democratic Government (which we have taken for granted in the last ten years) - the Rainbow simply don't convince me that they have the ideologies or experience to achieve this.
Footnote....
I wrote this before lastnight's Ahern-Kenny debate. I thought I'd hold back posting just in case I learned something interesting from it. All I learned was that Kenny sounded loud but inexperienced and full of individual anecdotal cases, but Ahern had all the big answers. In theory it's easier for opposition to attack the sitting tenants. This didn't happen - Kenny had his figures muddled - got worse as the debate went on - and just fired out good sounding individual cases when he was being cornered. He couldn't even be clear on economic figures nor be consistent on his Justice spokesman's figures. Can't you imagine how more muddled Kenny would be with Labour and the Greens at his side? Kenny isn't a bad politician but he and his party are still lightweights. Until they get much bigger with better players and can stand a good chance in Government without far left wing parties support, they simply don't have my vote. We may perceive that there are problems in the country now - I sure as hell don't want them getting worse.
The current Government is a coalition. It works well and has been stable for so long because FF and PDs have similar ideologies and the PDs are of course an original FF offshoot. Plus the PDs are very small but make a useful contribution. There is much hype about McDowell. He has arguably an irritating personality - but by golly he is the best Minister for Justice I can recall in my lifetime. Exactly the right decisive man for the job.
We have largely forgotten about how bad coalitions can normally be. FG+Labour+Greens is quite a bizarre cocktail of ideologies and has a high chance of failure when difficult choices come about. It may not always be apparent at the top table but you can be sure that grass roots in the respective parties will cause hell when it gets hot on policy implementations.
I don't trust this inexperienced Rainbow coalition to do any better on health or spending. It's much more likely they will squabble and argue and waste more time and money. Much of the problem in health is in sorting efficiencies in hospital management, sorting out consultants, increasing services and improving and balancing public and private care. It's certainly not to do with shortage of funding. The Government have a plan in place, it's slow and difficult but it is making progress. Do we really want to tear it all up and start again with a new government of very mixed colours? Can't you imagine FG and Labour arguing over private/public? Not apparent now? Everything sounds rosy when your just talking from the sidelines. Just wait to see them in Government making real and tough decisions.
The bottom line is I like stable democratic Government (which we have taken for granted in the last ten years) - the Rainbow simply don't convince me that they have the ideologies or experience to achieve this.
Footnote....
I wrote this before lastnight's Ahern-Kenny debate. I thought I'd hold back posting just in case I learned something interesting from it. All I learned was that Kenny sounded loud but inexperienced and full of individual anecdotal cases, but Ahern had all the big answers. In theory it's easier for opposition to attack the sitting tenants. This didn't happen - Kenny had his figures muddled - got worse as the debate went on - and just fired out good sounding individual cases when he was being cornered. He couldn't even be clear on economic figures nor be consistent on his Justice spokesman's figures. Can't you imagine how more muddled Kenny would be with Labour and the Greens at his side? Kenny isn't a bad politician but he and his party are still lightweights. Until they get much bigger with better players and can stand a good chance in Government without far left wing parties support, they simply don't have my vote. We may perceive that there are problems in the country now - I sure as hell don't want them getting worse.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Sorrows and lessons from little Madeleine McCann
I hadn't intended to write on this subject but Twenty Major raised a few important questions and we found ourselves in total agreement in our respective comments. His brief article has provoked considerable healthy debate.
As parents who have three daughters who were once Madeleine's age, my wife and I are filled with sadness and sympathy for the parents and the little girl. It's a living nightmare for each one of them. What form of humanity is out there to do this? Whoever did this were once children themselves but must have had a bizarre upbringing.
Having said the above, I cannot help but comment on the fact that it is highly irresponsible to leave children this age unattended in any dwelling. Especially in a foreign holiday resort with such a huge mixture of non-locals and easy access to all sorts of further places to take kidnapped children. I think of the sacrifices so many of us parents make as the kids are small to ensure they are safe - it is a tiny price to pay in reality. They grow so fast and when they are older they don't want to go on holiday with you anyway - as we ourselves have discovered.
If your small daughters are pretty and look different to the locals, they do attract attention. I've noticed this in the past on our own holidays abroad. An example we had was in Turkey when our youngest was just 11. She was getting a lot of looks and friendly comments from some local men. It seemed innocent and I'm sure most of it was. I actually found the Turkish people very nice, but holiday places also attract different types of local people and foreigners. One guy serving us in a restaurant called my daughter a little princess and patted her head a lot. Another guy jokingly offered me a camel for her! I carefully avoided the quip I might have used at home that she was worth at least two camels. You must be careful in these places. The notion of us leaving her in the apartment without trusted adult supervision in these foreign holiday places would be beyond comprehension. I don't buy this checking her every 20 minutes idea. It's not remotely enough and 20 minutes is a very ill-defined term when you're chatting and having drinks.
Madeleine's parents will not read this article and even if they did I'm sure they already now know the lessons privately anyway. The media have - understandably I suppose - not made a major factor of the non supervision of the child in order not to hurt the parents more. This has the side effect however of almost implying this practise as acceptable. So if by speaking the raw truth I can somehow encourage anyone with small children to be very careful on holiday abroad - then it's worth me saying it.
I deeply hope for a good ending to this horrible episode and all other similar cases.
As parents who have three daughters who were once Madeleine's age, my wife and I are filled with sadness and sympathy for the parents and the little girl. It's a living nightmare for each one of them. What form of humanity is out there to do this? Whoever did this were once children themselves but must have had a bizarre upbringing.
Having said the above, I cannot help but comment on the fact that it is highly irresponsible to leave children this age unattended in any dwelling. Especially in a foreign holiday resort with such a huge mixture of non-locals and easy access to all sorts of further places to take kidnapped children. I think of the sacrifices so many of us parents make as the kids are small to ensure they are safe - it is a tiny price to pay in reality. They grow so fast and when they are older they don't want to go on holiday with you anyway - as we ourselves have discovered.
If your small daughters are pretty and look different to the locals, they do attract attention. I've noticed this in the past on our own holidays abroad. An example we had was in Turkey when our youngest was just 11. She was getting a lot of looks and friendly comments from some local men. It seemed innocent and I'm sure most of it was. I actually found the Turkish people very nice, but holiday places also attract different types of local people and foreigners. One guy serving us in a restaurant called my daughter a little princess and patted her head a lot. Another guy jokingly offered me a camel for her! I carefully avoided the quip I might have used at home that she was worth at least two camels. You must be careful in these places. The notion of us leaving her in the apartment without trusted adult supervision in these foreign holiday places would be beyond comprehension. I don't buy this checking her every 20 minutes idea. It's not remotely enough and 20 minutes is a very ill-defined term when you're chatting and having drinks.
Madeleine's parents will not read this article and even if they did I'm sure they already now know the lessons privately anyway. The media have - understandably I suppose - not made a major factor of the non supervision of the child in order not to hurt the parents more. This has the side effect however of almost implying this practise as acceptable. So if by speaking the raw truth I can somehow encourage anyone with small children to be very careful on holiday abroad - then it's worth me saying it.
I deeply hope for a good ending to this horrible episode and all other similar cases.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Ireland and UK in Eurovision
In coming last Ireland did really badly on Saturday's Eurovision. I thought the standard was quite high this year from nearly all countries.
In recent years we seem to forget again and again that Eurovision is now big visual , big impact entertainment. It must have instant appeal for public voters all around Europe. It needs major professionalism put into the song, presentation and promotion. It's not near enough just to have a reasonable song. Both UK and Ireland and now increasingly insular remote places to the expanding Europe and it is no coincidence that we both made good company for each other at the end of the voting table. We need much more wow factor and imagination to get even noticed.
Anyway. It's just a bit of fun. Nobody died as they say! Well done Serbia.
In recent years we seem to forget again and again that Eurovision is now big visual , big impact entertainment. It must have instant appeal for public voters all around Europe. It needs major professionalism put into the song, presentation and promotion. It's not near enough just to have a reasonable song. Both UK and Ireland and now increasingly insular remote places to the expanding Europe and it is no coincidence that we both made good company for each other at the end of the voting table. We need much more wow factor and imagination to get even noticed.
Anyway. It's just a bit of fun. Nobody died as they say! Well done Serbia.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Satellite Navigation - it's VERY USEFUL!!
I'm well known by friends as a gadget geek. In the last year I've been reading up on choices for portable satellite navigation units for the car or walking. The recent trip to Bordeaux kind of forced me into making my mind up on a purchase. For various timing and availability reasons we booked our flights in and out of Biarritz rather than Bordeaux. The prospect of driving a hired car up from Biarritz to a very rural chateau 30 minutes southeast of Bordeaux was kind of daunting - not to mention the local travelling we would be doing during the stay.
A few days before departure I finally purchased the latest TomTom 910 portable SatNav unit. It is an amazing unit - fitted with a micro 20GB hard disk it contains all the latest maps of everywhere in Europe (does Ireland very well too), North America and various other places on the hard disk. With a nice 4 inch screen it can also store your photographs, play MP3 music and act as a handsfree unit for your mobile phone via bluetooth.
Anyway - the cool thing was that I could programme the destination chateau's address into the unit when sitting planning in Dublin and it could demonstrate visually and aurally every step of the route for me from Biarritz airport all the way to the Chateau. This feature caused much amusement in the car when we eventually went on the real trip. I was saying things like - "Oh yea, I remember this junction!" My wife thought I had genuinely been there before!
The SatNav shows you your location as you go along and talks to you about junctions and next turns etc. It even bleeps when at a speed camera and tells you your speed and if you are over the speed limit etc. If you go wrong it can recalculate an alternative route within 5 seconds. It shows you where petrol stations and rest places and various other useful points of interest (POI) are. You can even make it phone the POI - e.g. restaurant - via the bluetooth link to your mobile phone (yes, it stores all the phone numbers of the POIs) to say make a booking. The unit brought us flawlessly on the two hour drive from Biarritz airport to the remote chateau without me going near a paper map. When we entered the courtyard of the correct chateau the unit calmly announced "Your have reached your destination". We cheered loudly and I felt like kissing the SatNav unit!
One really cool thing was when we wanted to go into Bordeaux to a particular recommended restaurant. I'd never been in Bordeaux in my life and it seemed a bit daunting to find this restaurant. We keyed into the unit the full restaurant address including the building number on the street. I gulped and nervously put my faith into the SatNav unit doing things right. I was stunned to experience the unit talking and guiding us into Bordeaux, through the streets and right up to - not just the correct street - but right outside the door of the restaurant, where it announced "You have reached your destination"! Brilliant!!
We also went on a trip to the lovely town of Saint Emilion one day. The safe predictable route for tourists was via main routes and motorways - which is how some friends in another car who left just before us went. However with SatNav - the unit guided us through very scenic and more direct smaller country roads. We had a much nicer view of vineyards and countryside and also arrived at the town long before the others - saving fuel money as well. I would never have attempted such a route with maps - we would be going crazy and getting lost at every small junction.
Anyway I'm hooked on the benefits of SatNav and I wont be going anywhere strange again without this baby! God bless technology.
A few days before departure I finally purchased the latest TomTom 910 portable SatNav unit. It is an amazing unit - fitted with a micro 20GB hard disk it contains all the latest maps of everywhere in Europe (does Ireland very well too), North America and various other places on the hard disk. With a nice 4 inch screen it can also store your photographs, play MP3 music and act as a handsfree unit for your mobile phone via bluetooth.
Anyway - the cool thing was that I could programme the destination chateau's address into the unit when sitting planning in Dublin and it could demonstrate visually and aurally every step of the route for me from Biarritz airport all the way to the Chateau. This feature caused much amusement in the car when we eventually went on the real trip. I was saying things like - "Oh yea, I remember this junction!" My wife thought I had genuinely been there before!
The SatNav shows you your location as you go along and talks to you about junctions and next turns etc. It even bleeps when at a speed camera and tells you your speed and if you are over the speed limit etc. If you go wrong it can recalculate an alternative route within 5 seconds. It shows you where petrol stations and rest places and various other useful points of interest (POI) are. You can even make it phone the POI - e.g. restaurant - via the bluetooth link to your mobile phone (yes, it stores all the phone numbers of the POIs) to say make a booking. The unit brought us flawlessly on the two hour drive from Biarritz airport to the remote chateau without me going near a paper map. When we entered the courtyard of the correct chateau the unit calmly announced "Your have reached your destination". We cheered loudly and I felt like kissing the SatNav unit!
One really cool thing was when we wanted to go into Bordeaux to a particular recommended restaurant. I'd never been in Bordeaux in my life and it seemed a bit daunting to find this restaurant. We keyed into the unit the full restaurant address including the building number on the street. I gulped and nervously put my faith into the SatNav unit doing things right. I was stunned to experience the unit talking and guiding us into Bordeaux, through the streets and right up to - not just the correct street - but right outside the door of the restaurant, where it announced "You have reached your destination"! Brilliant!!
We also went on a trip to the lovely town of Saint Emilion one day. The safe predictable route for tourists was via main routes and motorways - which is how some friends in another car who left just before us went. However with SatNav - the unit guided us through very scenic and more direct smaller country roads. We had a much nicer view of vineyards and countryside and also arrived at the town long before the others - saving fuel money as well. I would never have attempted such a route with maps - we would be going crazy and getting lost at every small junction.
Anyway I'm hooked on the benefits of SatNav and I wont be going anywhere strange again without this baby! God bless technology.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Bordeaux and it's trams
My wife and I are just back from a break in the Bordeaux region. We were staying at an amazing old Chateau about 30 minutes from the city of Bordeaux. We were amongt sixty or so others who went over to the rented Chateau to help one of our friend's family celebrate the husband and two children's significant birthdays. It was a huge and magical castle sized place and I could blog for hours on the chateau itself and indeed the great wine, vineyards and countryside etc. Throw in all the good company of close friends, partying and late nights and it was indeed a blast!
In this instance I just want to briefly comment on the trams we experienced in the city of Bordeaux. I understand they were made by the same company who built the Dublin Luas trams. What struck me was how they designed them without overhead power feed lines - power comes from the ground. Much easier on the eye - no spoiling of the views of the wonderful city of Bordeaux. In particular - the trams travel across the lovely Pont-de-Pierre bridge and it would have been rather ugly to spoil the bridge with overheard lines.
Also, as you can see in my photo, along some of the route the tracks are over manicured grassed lawns. Trust the French to make a mundane city tram line look nice - and achieved with such a simple idea!
Bordeaux is a beautiful city and it has remained so even as it is being modernised. I wish we would more often put in the same attention to detail as we develop our own cities in Ireland. It doesn't always cost much money to enhance beauty, often just a bit of imagination. I take my hat of to the French in this category.
In this instance I just want to briefly comment on the trams we experienced in the city of Bordeaux. I understand they were made by the same company who built the Dublin Luas trams. What struck me was how they designed them without overhead power feed lines - power comes from the ground. Much easier on the eye - no spoiling of the views of the wonderful city of Bordeaux. In particular - the trams travel across the lovely Pont-de-Pierre bridge and it would have been rather ugly to spoil the bridge with overheard lines.
Also, as you can see in my photo, along some of the route the tracks are over manicured grassed lawns. Trust the French to make a mundane city tram line look nice - and achieved with such a simple idea!
Bordeaux is a beautiful city and it has remained so even as it is being modernised. I wish we would more often put in the same attention to detail as we develop our own cities in Ireland. It doesn't always cost much money to enhance beauty, often just a bit of imagination. I take my hat of to the French in this category.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Viva La Difference!
I understand that in many parts of Africa, men and women don't see women's breasts as sexually attractive. They are seen as glands for feeding babies. I listened to a radio piece not long ago which described an African woman's reaction on being told that western men found breasts exciting. "You mean that western men are like babies!!??" She could just manage to say this amid fits of laughter.
I heard an interview with an author (whose name escapes me) from one of the southern USA states. This black lady grew up in an environment where toilets were always outside the house. She described how she still finds it hard to get used to the idea that modern society can accept the stink of fecal waste from bathrooms inside houses - and in particular from an ensuite right beside where you sleep!
I'm merely making the point that it is not always as obvious as we think to see other people's ingrained traditions. But with a little patient listening, dialogue and thought one can easily enough begin to understand.
I watched a Questions and Answers program a few months ago on RTE which got me thinking on similar lines to the above examples. One question asked reaction from the panel to Enda Kenny's initiative for making immigrants to the country feel more welcome and integrate better. A simple and jokey opening contribution from the DUP's Jeffery Donaldson passed without any comment from others in the panel, but it stopped me in my tracks. This is a paraphrase but it went like....
"Well, I speak for my own people in the North who were also immigrants to this island and we have felt the need for an initiative like this for the last 400 years!"
Wow! All many of us southerners can think about the families from the plantation of Ulster is that they were invaders. Did we ever consider that maybe they saw themselves in the 17th century as immigrants who were unwelcome? Yes, before I hear howls of protest from nationalists - there are two sides to this story, I'm well aware of the history of it all (and indeed my mother was a nationalist growing up in NI who could tell many a sorry tale). But I'm just making a general point that ordinary families only integrate and fuse into a society when they feel they are welcome and both sides respect each other's viewpoint. Hostility breeds more hostility and you often end up with ghettos and polarisation.
We need to forget about a united Ireland until we unite in welcome and fellowship and seeing the other viewpoint. The unionists and nationalists in NI have more to share and enjoy than they perhaps realise. It's the small things - as always - which offer clues that it is slowly happening. A great example was Ian Paisley and Gerry Adams jointly signing a request to have the UK Government's Northern Ireland Secretary Peter Hain and his staff vacate their Stormont offices. This was wonderful in itself, but equally good was the little human story behind closed doors afterwards which as far as I can detect was only barely reported....
Gerry Adams it seems quipped to Ian Paisley that he never thought he would see the big man so eager to get the Brits out! In reaction we are told that Ian howled with laughter in his well known and unique way. Laughter together, what a wonderful start.
Different outlooks, but in truth - not so different really.
I heard an interview with an author (whose name escapes me) from one of the southern USA states. This black lady grew up in an environment where toilets were always outside the house. She described how she still finds it hard to get used to the idea that modern society can accept the stink of fecal waste from bathrooms inside houses - and in particular from an ensuite right beside where you sleep!
I'm merely making the point that it is not always as obvious as we think to see other people's ingrained traditions. But with a little patient listening, dialogue and thought one can easily enough begin to understand.
I watched a Questions and Answers program a few months ago on RTE which got me thinking on similar lines to the above examples. One question asked reaction from the panel to Enda Kenny's initiative for making immigrants to the country feel more welcome and integrate better. A simple and jokey opening contribution from the DUP's Jeffery Donaldson passed without any comment from others in the panel, but it stopped me in my tracks. This is a paraphrase but it went like....
"Well, I speak for my own people in the North who were also immigrants to this island and we have felt the need for an initiative like this for the last 400 years!"
Wow! All many of us southerners can think about the families from the plantation of Ulster is that they were invaders. Did we ever consider that maybe they saw themselves in the 17th century as immigrants who were unwelcome? Yes, before I hear howls of protest from nationalists - there are two sides to this story, I'm well aware of the history of it all (and indeed my mother was a nationalist growing up in NI who could tell many a sorry tale). But I'm just making a general point that ordinary families only integrate and fuse into a society when they feel they are welcome and both sides respect each other's viewpoint. Hostility breeds more hostility and you often end up with ghettos and polarisation.
We need to forget about a united Ireland until we unite in welcome and fellowship and seeing the other viewpoint. The unionists and nationalists in NI have more to share and enjoy than they perhaps realise. It's the small things - as always - which offer clues that it is slowly happening. A great example was Ian Paisley and Gerry Adams jointly signing a request to have the UK Government's Northern Ireland Secretary Peter Hain and his staff vacate their Stormont offices. This was wonderful in itself, but equally good was the little human story behind closed doors afterwards which as far as I can detect was only barely reported....
Gerry Adams it seems quipped to Ian Paisley that he never thought he would see the big man so eager to get the Brits out! In reaction we are told that Ian howled with laughter in his well known and unique way. Laughter together, what a wonderful start.
Different outlooks, but in truth - not so different really.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Granny and good vote management!
What motivates a person's General Election voting choice? It's the economy, stupid! Nah, not in this case...
My paternal grandmother was an invalid and when quite elderly she lived with us for a number of years in the early 1970s. On the run up to a particular general election an official looking gentleman arrived with a clip-boarded registration list of voters. He was very sorry to hear Gran was an invalid and thought it was only fair and proper for her to exercise her right to vote. He said he would organise transport for Gran to be taken to the polling station. I was about seventeen at the time and on election day I recall the burly volunteers arriving at the house with a big van.
In utter respect to my granny's complete freedom of choice to vote for whoever she liked - a range of candidate leaflets were handed to her to read. While the men chatted to my parents I went over to my gran to see what she had. To my surprise at the time - all the leaflets were for Fianna Fail candidates! It was a bit like the old arrangement in the USSR - you can vote for anyone...in one party!
Equally interesting was Gran's selection process of the right person to vote for. She never had much interest in politics and had even less in her advanced years. She looked at one photo and then another and another. Did the person look honest, strong, too young, too old, devious, healthy etc. etc. She asked my opinion on a few, such as..."Does that fellow look like a crook?" "Does yer man look like he has heart problems?" etc.
So Gran was brought away in the van with her exceptionally well colour co-ordinated leaflets and returned safely in less than 30 minutes. I'll never forget the men's parting remarks to Gran...
"God bless you for voting Mam. There's many a country where nobody has a choice."
My paternal grandmother was an invalid and when quite elderly she lived with us for a number of years in the early 1970s. On the run up to a particular general election an official looking gentleman arrived with a clip-boarded registration list of voters. He was very sorry to hear Gran was an invalid and thought it was only fair and proper for her to exercise her right to vote. He said he would organise transport for Gran to be taken to the polling station. I was about seventeen at the time and on election day I recall the burly volunteers arriving at the house with a big van.
In utter respect to my granny's complete freedom of choice to vote for whoever she liked - a range of candidate leaflets were handed to her to read. While the men chatted to my parents I went over to my gran to see what she had. To my surprise at the time - all the leaflets were for Fianna Fail candidates! It was a bit like the old arrangement in the USSR - you can vote for anyone...in one party!
Equally interesting was Gran's selection process of the right person to vote for. She never had much interest in politics and had even less in her advanced years. She looked at one photo and then another and another. Did the person look honest, strong, too young, too old, devious, healthy etc. etc. She asked my opinion on a few, such as..."Does that fellow look like a crook?" "Does yer man look like he has heart problems?" etc.
So Gran was brought away in the van with her exceptionally well colour co-ordinated leaflets and returned safely in less than 30 minutes. I'll never forget the men's parting remarks to Gran...
"God bless you for voting Mam. There's many a country where nobody has a choice."
Friday, April 06, 2007
There's something about Marian!
Do you know any middle aged woman called Marian? If so, try saying to her... "You look well for a 53 year old!"
Chances are you will be right, or at worst she may be no more than a few years younger.
It's hard for us to grasp today the power which the 1954 Marian year had at the time throughout the Catholic World. Here in Ireland there must be hundreds of Marian shrines which were built that year in towns, villages and housing estates. This photo taken yesterday was in Monkstown here in Dublin. You can see the care and attention which is still put into the maintenance of this walled dedicated garden.
I was born a year later in 1955. In my late teens - as I went to discos with my shoulder length John Lennon hair, deep purple shirt and groovy bell bottoms - one of my cheesy comments if I met a girl called Marian was..."I can't be seen with an older chick!"
Chances are you will be right, or at worst she may be no more than a few years younger.
It's hard for us to grasp today the power which the 1954 Marian year had at the time throughout the Catholic World. Here in Ireland there must be hundreds of Marian shrines which were built that year in towns, villages and housing estates. This photo taken yesterday was in Monkstown here in Dublin. You can see the care and attention which is still put into the maintenance of this walled dedicated garden.
I was born a year later in 1955. In my late teens - as I went to discos with my shoulder length John Lennon hair, deep purple shirt and groovy bell bottoms - one of my cheesy comments if I met a girl called Marian was..."I can't be seen with an older chick!"
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Hi, my name is John and I've an addiction!
I've been meaning to blog more on a few subjects recently. I want to talk about Ian Paisley and also election philosophy. But since I've bought this new feckin' camera in February I'm back addicted to photography! So I'm easier to find on Flickr these days and it's taking up a lot of my time.
In the past I used to love taking photos and developing and printing in B&W. Also went through a big phase of slide photography. Had a few different Olympus SLR cameras and good selection of lenses. I was in a tricky hybrid state in the last 7 years using a mixture of good film cameras and average digital cameras. Now I'm Back to the Future so to speak with a brilliant digital SLR beast and great editing software. It's incredibly addictive now and I'm learning more things at a great rate.
I will keep blogging but it's gonna be mixture of photoblog and wordy wisdom for the time being!
I'm not sure whether to thank or curse a certain blogging lady named after a picture element of ruddy hue. Her impressive photographic work, which combines artistic and technical skills, was the final inspiration in me getting back with enthusiasm to this addictive madness!!
Photo taken out our front window this evening.
In the past I used to love taking photos and developing and printing in B&W. Also went through a big phase of slide photography. Had a few different Olympus SLR cameras and good selection of lenses. I was in a tricky hybrid state in the last 7 years using a mixture of good film cameras and average digital cameras. Now I'm Back to the Future so to speak with a brilliant digital SLR beast and great editing software. It's incredibly addictive now and I'm learning more things at a great rate.
I will keep blogging but it's gonna be mixture of photoblog and wordy wisdom for the time being!
I'm not sure whether to thank or curse a certain blogging lady named after a picture element of ruddy hue. Her impressive photographic work, which combines artistic and technical skills, was the final inspiration in me getting back with enthusiasm to this addictive madness!!
Photo taken out our front window this evening.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Mixed Signals
Mention the 40 foot to most people in Dublin and the swimming place below in Sandycove comes to mind...
But nearby in Dun Laoghaire there is another 40 foot - a newish trendy bar...
But nearby in Dun Laoghaire there is another 40 foot - a newish trendy bar...Recently the following dialogue ensued at home...
Daughter (in a hurry from the hall door): "See ya, going to 40 foot."
Me: "What? It's a bit dark out!"
Daughter: "Don't worry...with a bunch of friends"
Me: "But..it will be very cold, geez, you're one brave girl!"
Daughter (getting annoyed): "I've got a coat! Chill out!"
Me: "It aint me that will be chilling. Have you got a big towel?"
Daughter: "Are you drinking or something?"
Door slams.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Big clean-up on Killiney Beach!
The last post on the Killiney Beach photo provoked some thoughts on colouring etc. Just for fun I'm including the unaltered and altered images below for further comment. In my humble opinion the unaltered photo, although representing the truth on the day, it is not quite as pleasing to the eye as the altered photo. I'd prefer to be on holiday in the second place! What do people think?
Original Untouched Image
Contrast and colour saturation increasedMonday, March 26, 2007
Sunny Saturday
Wasn't Saturday a fine day? A good to be alive day. Ireland always looks better when sunny. I was out roaming with the camera again.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Anyone for Cricket? Alas, not me!
Wasn't it cool that little Ireland beat the mighty Pakistan? There is suddenly more talk of cricket going around our island.
It is a game that I do not like much, but I've tried and will maybe try again. I've watched it very slightly more often on TV in the last six months on Sky Sports HD...but that's mainly because the finer details in the grass look excellent on our 50 inch high definition plasma!
I know there are many fans out there. Do any of you remember the book written in Irish "An Dialann Deorai" (The Diary of an Exile) written by Donal MacAmhlaigh? It was on the Leaving Cert Irish course in the 1970s and was based on Donal's experiences when having to emigrate from Ireland to Britain in the 1950s and his time doing Navvy work etc. The last thing I expected this ardent Irish language speaking, GAA fanatical, quintessentially rural Ireland man to write in his book was that he liked watching the English play cricket. But he did. He liked the relaxed pace and I think the civilised behaviour etc. Ever since reading this all those years ago I've attempted to take some interest in it. I've even a fair idea of the rules etc. It also perplexes me how people can go along to the big cricket grounds where you seem to be miles away from the action and sit there and enjoy it.
I like watching snooker on TV which is slow paced but intriguing. Even bowls to some extent. I'd like to warm more to cricket.
It is a game that I do not like much, but I've tried and will maybe try again. I've watched it very slightly more often on TV in the last six months on Sky Sports HD...but that's mainly because the finer details in the grass look excellent on our 50 inch high definition plasma!
I know there are many fans out there. Do any of you remember the book written in Irish "An Dialann Deorai" (The Diary of an Exile) written by Donal MacAmhlaigh? It was on the Leaving Cert Irish course in the 1970s and was based on Donal's experiences when having to emigrate from Ireland to Britain in the 1950s and his time doing Navvy work etc. The last thing I expected this ardent Irish language speaking, GAA fanatical, quintessentially rural Ireland man to write in his book was that he liked watching the English play cricket. But he did. He liked the relaxed pace and I think the civilised behaviour etc. Ever since reading this all those years ago I've attempted to take some interest in it. I've even a fair idea of the rules etc. It also perplexes me how people can go along to the big cricket grounds where you seem to be miles away from the action and sit there and enjoy it.
I like watching snooker on TV which is slow paced but intriguing. Even bowls to some extent. I'd like to warm more to cricket.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Music, sweet music!
Spousey has a flashy modern red sports car (yes, I'm jealous). She often notices young lads gawking when out on the road. Eh...I'm sure it's the car that's the gawk subject.... she's not a bad looking chick with natural dark hair and wearing the right sunglasses... but I'm certain there are quite stringent age limits with 20 year old lads for tastes in older women!!!
Anyway, yesterday she told me that a white mid 90s Honda Civic pulls up beside her at traffic lights. I'm sure you get the picture....black windows...fancy wheels....unnatural exhaust...blue underbelly lights....thumping bassy music.
The window winds down and two pimply faced lads in the front seats take a closer look at the gleaming red sports car. At this stage with the window down the noise of rap music is stronger. Spousey is in the Dublin County Choir and listens to difficult practise pieces in the car all the time. So in an attempt at counter-attack she winds down her window, turns up the CD player and gave them a 100 watt sample of Johann Sebastian Bach's more energetic works!
The irony of 300 year old music belting out in this setting was not lost on the lads and they went into resounding laughter. The lights then turned green and they accelerated off like escaping from Hell. Spousey just shook her head and hoped they would be safe.
Anyway, yesterday she told me that a white mid 90s Honda Civic pulls up beside her at traffic lights. I'm sure you get the picture....black windows...fancy wheels....unnatural exhaust...blue underbelly lights....thumping bassy music.
The window winds down and two pimply faced lads in the front seats take a closer look at the gleaming red sports car. At this stage with the window down the noise of rap music is stronger. Spousey is in the Dublin County Choir and listens to difficult practise pieces in the car all the time. So in an attempt at counter-attack she winds down her window, turns up the CD player and gave them a 100 watt sample of Johann Sebastian Bach's more energetic works!
The irony of 300 year old music belting out in this setting was not lost on the lads and they went into resounding laughter. The lights then turned green and they accelerated off like escaping from Hell. Spousey just shook her head and hoped they would be safe.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Oil Power and Solar Power
I spotted this treat today at lunchtime from the shoreline at Blackrock. Maybe there is something symbolic for our future about the Poolbeg ESB power station being beside a bright rainbow....old energy and new energy?
New "kids" on the block!
Well....kids is truly an exaggeration, but it somehow seems apt. I'm referring to the invasion of the Blogosphere by Oldies.
First we've got Grandad over at Head Rambles. He writes great articles. Then his wife Granny started it at Granny Lost The Plot, another very good writer. The interaction between the two blogs is a riot of fun where I suspect fact and fiction blur beautifully. It's brilliant stuff.
We've also got another skilled writer Grannymar at oldbones who seems to be good pals with Granny. The communication between this pair is like watching One Foot in the Grave on the web. And Grannymar's daughter ellybabes has been blogging for quite awhile (and indeed Elly's partner whom Grannymar refers to as sin-in-law!). So this causes further fun and interactions. Indeed Grandad is now trying to encourage his grown up daughter to blog. Geez....in the modern IT world often dominated by youth, this might seem to some as the equivalent of the tail wagging the dog!
I think it's all terrific, adds great balance. Many popular bloggers seem to be young in their 20's or 30's. I was feeling a little old at 52, but now I feel younger!
The Oldies have lots to say, a long lifetime of rich experiences. Young people were never old but old people were young.
Be afraid, be very afraid! The invasion has started.
First we've got Grandad over at Head Rambles. He writes great articles. Then his wife Granny started it at Granny Lost The Plot, another very good writer. The interaction between the two blogs is a riot of fun where I suspect fact and fiction blur beautifully. It's brilliant stuff.
We've also got another skilled writer Grannymar at oldbones who seems to be good pals with Granny. The communication between this pair is like watching One Foot in the Grave on the web. And Grannymar's daughter ellybabes has been blogging for quite awhile (and indeed Elly's partner whom Grannymar refers to as sin-in-law!). So this causes further fun and interactions. Indeed Grandad is now trying to encourage his grown up daughter to blog. Geez....in the modern IT world often dominated by youth, this might seem to some as the equivalent of the tail wagging the dog!
I think it's all terrific, adds great balance. Many popular bloggers seem to be young in their 20's or 30's. I was feeling a little old at 52, but now I feel younger!
The Oldies have lots to say, a long lifetime of rich experiences. Young people were never old but old people were young.
Be afraid, be very afraid! The invasion has started.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Smell - a very under-rated sense!
My wife and I were in the Avoca shop in Powerscourt yesterday. We noticed lavender sacks for sale. The shape and scent brought me back more than 40 years. My mother used to put these sacks in chests of drawers with clothes. The smell of lavender still reminds me of our old house, drawers, comfort, security, letting parents take care of you. When you're an adult you can take on big challenges, but a child should just enjoy growing up in blissful safety.
I'm currently reading a novel called the The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak. There is a great passage in it about how the young girl Liesel relates through smell to her foster father, Hans, who is kind to her and is teaching her to read each evening in the basement of their house....
Some nights after working in the basement, Liesel would sit crouched in the bath and hear the same utterances from the kitchen.
"You stink", Mama would say to Hans. "Like cigarettes and kerosene."
Sitting in the water, she imagined the smell of it, mapped out on her papa's clothes. More than anything, it was the smell of friendship, and she could find it on herself too. Liesel loved the smell. She would sniff her arm and smile as the water cooled around her.
I've written last year about how under-rated and powerful the sense of smell can be (Smell..the sense of the past and also comments on the novel Perfume). I'm sure we can all relate certain smells to childhood or other memories. Any thoughts?
I'm currently reading a novel called the The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak. There is a great passage in it about how the young girl Liesel relates through smell to her foster father, Hans, who is kind to her and is teaching her to read each evening in the basement of their house....
Some nights after working in the basement, Liesel would sit crouched in the bath and hear the same utterances from the kitchen.
"You stink", Mama would say to Hans. "Like cigarettes and kerosene."
Sitting in the water, she imagined the smell of it, mapped out on her papa's clothes. More than anything, it was the smell of friendship, and she could find it on herself too. Liesel loved the smell. She would sniff her arm and smile as the water cooled around her.
I've written last year about how under-rated and powerful the sense of smell can be (Smell..the sense of the past and also comments on the novel Perfume). I'm sure we can all relate certain smells to childhood or other memories. Any thoughts?
March Trees
There are some great trees in Powerscourt Gardens, Co. Wicklow. These looked interesting yesterday with the fading sun in background
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
RTE's The Restaurant - snapshot of new Ireland
I find myself watching this TV piece regularly for various reasons.
The side show is sometimes more interesting than the celebrity chef and critics table. I refer to the other diners tables which are sometimes occupied by an obnoxious bunch of snobby pretentious Irish nouveau riche. Their holier than thou attitude to the food is often dramatically contrasted by their poor table manners. They would do themselves more favours if they could handle their cutlery properly, avoid pointing with their knives and in particular drop their pompous accents which are often clearly put-on for the night. Also, their silly attempts at being knowledgeable at wines nearly always lets them down spectacularly. It's very difficult to name grape type and regions from taste - see how often the real experts get it badly wrong. It would be far more honest for them to just say how they like the wine and comment on it's flavour and scent, rather than trying to impress by effectively picking a wine name and region (and even year) out of a hat.
To me it's a fine example of how immature many of us are in the middle class with our new found wealth. The English upper middle class could still run rings around many of us when it comes to dining breeding. But as long as we can laugh at ourselves it's harmless fun.
The side show is sometimes more interesting than the celebrity chef and critics table. I refer to the other diners tables which are sometimes occupied by an obnoxious bunch of snobby pretentious Irish nouveau riche. Their holier than thou attitude to the food is often dramatically contrasted by their poor table manners. They would do themselves more favours if they could handle their cutlery properly, avoid pointing with their knives and in particular drop their pompous accents which are often clearly put-on for the night. Also, their silly attempts at being knowledgeable at wines nearly always lets them down spectacularly. It's very difficult to name grape type and regions from taste - see how often the real experts get it badly wrong. It would be far more honest for them to just say how they like the wine and comment on it's flavour and scent, rather than trying to impress by effectively picking a wine name and region (and even year) out of a hat.
To me it's a fine example of how immature many of us are in the middle class with our new found wealth. The English upper middle class could still run rings around many of us when it comes to dining breeding. But as long as we can laugh at ourselves it's harmless fun.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Irish Blog Awards - Oscar Night.
Well in spite of a nasty bacterial infection of cellulitis in my leg and doped with heavy antibiotics I ventured along to the Irish Blog Awards on Saturday night.
I do think that the most interesting winners of the night were those two great sisters Kirstie and Aisling of beaut.ie They were terrific to talk to and the idea of their webiste is excellent. I believe they are making money from it and things can only get better from the two awards they have now picked up. Aisling has the challenge of MS to contend with and is so cheerful, outgoing and optimistic. I wish them both every success.
The very warm Sinead Gleeson was also great to meet and talk to again and she so deserves the Best Arts and Culture award for her hard work on the Sigla Blog
I also got to talk to Red Mum - who is a great writer and photographer and did well with her Best Personal Blog award. Her nice northern accent makes me feel at home as all my maternal relations are also from Northern Ireland.
It was also good to chat briefly to the previously mysterious Twenty Major. For the last few years I couldn't get the image out of my mind of him looking like the weird Ho-Chi-Minh type guy at top of his website. He's quite Irish looking in reality as we all now know and did well again this year in the awards.
Also with the help of old blogging pal that girl I tracked down Omaniblog whom I'd been most anxious to meet and we had a great long chat.
Finally I settled down for awhile for a good chat with gingerpixel (Claire Wilson) and her husband Matt and some of their family. They are really nice people. I think Claire will sooner or later get an award for her great photography and her work has really motivated me to get back to this hobby which I've always enjoyed since my teens.
I'd been hoping to get a word with one of my favourite and most inspiring writers Sarah Carey but she was gone before I'd a chance. It's unbelievable that she has yet to win a blog award.
Well done to all the winners and to Damien again for his tireless work. More details of all this years winners are here.
I do think that the most interesting winners of the night were those two great sisters Kirstie and Aisling of beaut.ie They were terrific to talk to and the idea of their webiste is excellent. I believe they are making money from it and things can only get better from the two awards they have now picked up. Aisling has the challenge of MS to contend with and is so cheerful, outgoing and optimistic. I wish them both every success.
The very warm Sinead Gleeson was also great to meet and talk to again and she so deserves the Best Arts and Culture award for her hard work on the Sigla Blog
I also got to talk to Red Mum - who is a great writer and photographer and did well with her Best Personal Blog award. Her nice northern accent makes me feel at home as all my maternal relations are also from Northern Ireland.
It was also good to chat briefly to the previously mysterious Twenty Major. For the last few years I couldn't get the image out of my mind of him looking like the weird Ho-Chi-Minh type guy at top of his website. He's quite Irish looking in reality as we all now know and did well again this year in the awards.
Also with the help of old blogging pal that girl I tracked down Omaniblog whom I'd been most anxious to meet and we had a great long chat.
Finally I settled down for awhile for a good chat with gingerpixel (Claire Wilson) and her husband Matt and some of their family. They are really nice people. I think Claire will sooner or later get an award for her great photography and her work has really motivated me to get back to this hobby which I've always enjoyed since my teens.
I'd been hoping to get a word with one of my favourite and most inspiring writers Sarah Carey but she was gone before I'd a chance. It's unbelievable that she has yet to win a blog award.
Well done to all the winners and to Damien again for his tireless work. More details of all this years winners are here.
Monday, February 26, 2007
The God Delusion - Richard Dawkins
It reminded me of the logic I held in phases as a teenager. The book practically holds up placards to crystallize feelings that many would harbour in varying nebulous forms. Its easy to bare conventional religions to ridicule. Also, the Darwinian arguments have always made perfect sense to me.
The trouble is that we think too highly today of our current intellectual and scientific abilities. We are still minions in our knowledge of what the heck is going on. A small example in this book related to Dawkins' sneer on the Sun appearing to come down from the sky as witnessed by thousands of people at Fatima. He took the classical irrefutable line that no matter what they all witnessed - the Sun clearly did not come down from the sky - the whole planet would have been destroyed otherwise. Good smart-arsed teenager Physics logic. He doesn't bother trying to analyse it any further - not worthy. That's the trouble with conventional scientists. Anything unknown which doesn't fit into currently understood measurement tools is completely dismissed.
We all know that there are many things unexplained. Scientists try to analyse everything with conventional detection systems for energies in the electromagnetic spectrum from radio waves to gamma rays and for subatomic particles etc. It's poetry in motion when everything can be explained, controlled, repeated. We use it to ultimately build the predictable solutions we enjoy in our 21st century lives. But the weird stuff doesn't play ball. Try repeating the same experiment in the so called paranormal and it's different every time. Ghosts would be great if you could control them - very handy to be able to exploit something which goes through walls. Today's scientists don't seem to know where to begin in this area. It's much easier to rubbish everything. But many open minded scientists have called for a newer super-science. Face up to everything unexplained. Keep open minded and push the boundaries.
I agree with Dawkins in so many things. I agree it is reasonable to expect more answers from science. But science needs to discover more and more of the dynamics which drive the universe and life. We are only scratching the surface.
I want to know why people dying in operating theatres can describe in uncanny detail what is happening in other parts of the hospital. I want to know how my 2 year old daughter suddenly made detailed claims of contacts with her Grandad who died when she was a small baby before she could know him (see here). I want to know how truly bizarre things line up when loved ones pass away.
Scientists like Dawkins reckon that we are deluded. But if we are patient and continue our work, science will eventually provide answers and may even fuse with philosophy. However, here in 2007 Richard Dawkins does not have the answers, he instead offers ridicule at the obvious soft targets.
The trouble is that we think too highly today of our current intellectual and scientific abilities. We are still minions in our knowledge of what the heck is going on. A small example in this book related to Dawkins' sneer on the Sun appearing to come down from the sky as witnessed by thousands of people at Fatima. He took the classical irrefutable line that no matter what they all witnessed - the Sun clearly did not come down from the sky - the whole planet would have been destroyed otherwise. Good smart-arsed teenager Physics logic. He doesn't bother trying to analyse it any further - not worthy. That's the trouble with conventional scientists. Anything unknown which doesn't fit into currently understood measurement tools is completely dismissed.
We all know that there are many things unexplained. Scientists try to analyse everything with conventional detection systems for energies in the electromagnetic spectrum from radio waves to gamma rays and for subatomic particles etc. It's poetry in motion when everything can be explained, controlled, repeated. We use it to ultimately build the predictable solutions we enjoy in our 21st century lives. But the weird stuff doesn't play ball. Try repeating the same experiment in the so called paranormal and it's different every time. Ghosts would be great if you could control them - very handy to be able to exploit something which goes through walls. Today's scientists don't seem to know where to begin in this area. It's much easier to rubbish everything. But many open minded scientists have called for a newer super-science. Face up to everything unexplained. Keep open minded and push the boundaries.
I agree with Dawkins in so many things. I agree it is reasonable to expect more answers from science. But science needs to discover more and more of the dynamics which drive the universe and life. We are only scratching the surface.
I want to know why people dying in operating theatres can describe in uncanny detail what is happening in other parts of the hospital. I want to know how my 2 year old daughter suddenly made detailed claims of contacts with her Grandad who died when she was a small baby before she could know him (see here). I want to know how truly bizarre things line up when loved ones pass away.
Scientists like Dawkins reckon that we are deluded. But if we are patient and continue our work, science will eventually provide answers and may even fuse with philosophy. However, here in 2007 Richard Dawkins does not have the answers, he instead offers ridicule at the obvious soft targets.
Monday, February 19, 2007
It was dangerous to walk on the grass!
I read recently that its 25 years since slapping was abolished in Ireland's schools. So anyone now under about 30 years old never experienced it. Here's one vivid memory...
In our Dublin Primary school in the mid 1960s there was a tough deputy headmaster. His commanding authority was absolute and philosophically he was slightly to the right of Attila the Hun. His class was the quietest and most disciplined in the school. I'll just refer to him as Mr. C (in case he is alive and still dangerous!).
Some of Mr. C's star pupils were trained to supervise the schoolyard at lunchtime. In particular they stood at the edge of the yard to watch with laser beam accuracy if any kid put a foot off the concrete yard on to the nice green school lawn. Such an offence was serious in the eyes of Mr. C.
When the bell sounded to end lunchtime each class formed their own line at the front of the school yard. An additional line - suitably segregated to one side - was for all the pupils who had stepped on the grass during the break. Mr. C stood at the top of the steps and made a short but powerful speech to the entire school assembly on how those in the special line were bad and had no respect for the school lawn. He then blew his whistle and beckoned this special line of kids to march up the steps into the school and into his classroom in full view of the rest of the school.
I had the misfortune once to be in the special line and found myself with the other suspects lined up for a kangaroo court session in Mr. C's class. The prisoners stood at the top of the classroom facing all Mr.C's silently seated pupils. Mr. C paced up and down the courtroom giving a general introduction to proceedings and then asked each person in turn to give an explanation as to why they stepped on the grass. The excuses were variable but the typical ones were...."I only put one toe on the grass"....."Yer man pushed me".... "I just slipped"..."I didn't do it" etc.
Each excuse was repeated in a cruel burlesque fashion by Mr. C and was seasoned by satirical remarks to amuse the courtroom. His class was allowed a gentle laugh to support Mr. C's witty performance but if it went even slightly too loud to suit his taste he would hiss "SILENCE!"
The court case facade was all a part of the humiliation and for Mr. C's unmistakable enjoyment - as nobody ever escaped unpunished anyway. When Mr. C was finished verbal proceedings he went and sat behind his desk and there followed a deliberate solemn silence - a bit like private prayer before ending a funeral mass. This was more psychological punishment of course.
The silence was eventually broken by Mr. C standing up with military formality and slowly saying a single word...."Murphy".
This was a signal for Mr. C's star pupil to get up from his desk and walk across the front of the class past the now convicted criminals to a locked press. There, following jingling keys echoing prison-like in the otherwise icy silence, Murphy retrieved a long nasty wooden cane. He brought the cane across the room past the criminal line - whose transfixed eyes and heads followed the cane like synchronised swimmers - and presented it to Mr. C. The teacher then walked up to face the first criminal in line and asked him to step forward. In the cold sombre atmosphere it left like all that was missing was one of those dull church funeral gongs sounding every 2 seconds.
The next few minutes was a spectacle of slaughter with cries of agony as each boy received six vicious cane flogs on each of their hands. Often the child found it hard to put his hand out to take the second and subsequent blows. Mr. C then had to wrestle their hands out straight and hold them as he administered more swishing heavy blows. It was a terrifying orgy of violence and heart wrenching pain.
When the dust all settled Mr. C observed the scarred battlefield of shaking and tearful pupils. Panting from his exertions but with the faint smile of a triumphant gladiator, he took a handkerchief out to wipe sweat from his brow before combing his ruffled hair into place. When suitably composed he then made a final speech about the precious lawn and everyone was dismissed to their classes.
Ah, school days!
In our Dublin Primary school in the mid 1960s there was a tough deputy headmaster. His commanding authority was absolute and philosophically he was slightly to the right of Attila the Hun. His class was the quietest and most disciplined in the school. I'll just refer to him as Mr. C (in case he is alive and still dangerous!).
Some of Mr. C's star pupils were trained to supervise the schoolyard at lunchtime. In particular they stood at the edge of the yard to watch with laser beam accuracy if any kid put a foot off the concrete yard on to the nice green school lawn. Such an offence was serious in the eyes of Mr. C.
When the bell sounded to end lunchtime each class formed their own line at the front of the school yard. An additional line - suitably segregated to one side - was for all the pupils who had stepped on the grass during the break. Mr. C stood at the top of the steps and made a short but powerful speech to the entire school assembly on how those in the special line were bad and had no respect for the school lawn. He then blew his whistle and beckoned this special line of kids to march up the steps into the school and into his classroom in full view of the rest of the school.
I had the misfortune once to be in the special line and found myself with the other suspects lined up for a kangaroo court session in Mr. C's class. The prisoners stood at the top of the classroom facing all Mr.C's silently seated pupils. Mr. C paced up and down the courtroom giving a general introduction to proceedings and then asked each person in turn to give an explanation as to why they stepped on the grass. The excuses were variable but the typical ones were...."I only put one toe on the grass"....."Yer man pushed me".... "I just slipped"..."I didn't do it" etc.
Each excuse was repeated in a cruel burlesque fashion by Mr. C and was seasoned by satirical remarks to amuse the courtroom. His class was allowed a gentle laugh to support Mr. C's witty performance but if it went even slightly too loud to suit his taste he would hiss "SILENCE!"
The court case facade was all a part of the humiliation and for Mr. C's unmistakable enjoyment - as nobody ever escaped unpunished anyway. When Mr. C was finished verbal proceedings he went and sat behind his desk and there followed a deliberate solemn silence - a bit like private prayer before ending a funeral mass. This was more psychological punishment of course.
The silence was eventually broken by Mr. C standing up with military formality and slowly saying a single word...."Murphy".
This was a signal for Mr. C's star pupil to get up from his desk and walk across the front of the class past the now convicted criminals to a locked press. There, following jingling keys echoing prison-like in the otherwise icy silence, Murphy retrieved a long nasty wooden cane. He brought the cane across the room past the criminal line - whose transfixed eyes and heads followed the cane like synchronised swimmers - and presented it to Mr. C. The teacher then walked up to face the first criminal in line and asked him to step forward. In the cold sombre atmosphere it left like all that was missing was one of those dull church funeral gongs sounding every 2 seconds.
The next few minutes was a spectacle of slaughter with cries of agony as each boy received six vicious cane flogs on each of their hands. Often the child found it hard to put his hand out to take the second and subsequent blows. Mr. C then had to wrestle their hands out straight and hold them as he administered more swishing heavy blows. It was a terrifying orgy of violence and heart wrenching pain.
When the dust all settled Mr. C observed the scarred battlefield of shaking and tearful pupils. Panting from his exertions but with the faint smile of a triumphant gladiator, he took a handkerchief out to wipe sweat from his brow before combing his ruffled hair into place. When suitably composed he then made a final speech about the precious lawn and everyone was dismissed to their classes.
Ah, school days!
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Saturday, February 10, 2007
The Irish Blog Awards
Mmmh! A few of my articles have made it to nominations in the 2007 Irish Blog Awards.
Best Blog Post Category...not one but two nominations (Yippie!)...
The Day I quit as an Altar Boy
The Legend of Uncle Tom and the Bubble Car
Most Humorous Post Category...
The Legend of Uncle Tom and the Bubble Car
When I saw the two category nominations for the Bubble Car post I was so glad for dear old Uncle Tom. He and his wife died in recent years aged in their eighties and without offspring - it's so easy and fast for someone like that to have their memory disappear. It's nice to think that some folk today enjoy his incident from 1963.
Anyway, well done to Damien for all his hard work in the Irish Blog Awards and to the various helpers and sponsors. If you want to find out more and vote go to...
Best Blog Post Category...not one but two nominations (Yippie!)...
The Day I quit as an Altar Boy
The Legend of Uncle Tom and the Bubble Car
Most Humorous Post Category...
The Legend of Uncle Tom and the Bubble Car
When I saw the two category nominations for the Bubble Car post I was so glad for dear old Uncle Tom. He and his wife died in recent years aged in their eighties and without offspring - it's so easy and fast for someone like that to have their memory disappear. It's nice to think that some folk today enjoy his incident from 1963.
Anyway, well done to Damien for all his hard work in the Irish Blog Awards and to the various helpers and sponsors. If you want to find out more and vote go to...
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Ireland 2 San Marino 1
Everyone is being tough on our poor manager Steve Staunton and the FAI.
Let's get real in many ways...
1. We won. It wasn't a great performance but we were clearly a much better side and San Marino's strategy was all about avoiding being scored against - they worked hard and successfully on defense.
2. We are a slightly better than average international side, but nothing exceptional. We are still in a mental state since the exceptional performance in Italia 90. In a sense it's like England feeling for 40 years that they are World Cup winning class since 1966.
3. We've driven out Jack Charlton, Mick McCarthy, Brian Kerr and now we want rid of Steve Staunton. Were they all so very bad?
Let's stop looking for heads and support and build on what we have.
PS...On radio yesterday I loved one Dublin woman when asked on the street if she knew where San Marino was...."I'm not sure, but I know it's not the place near Fairview!"
Let's get real in many ways...
1. We won. It wasn't a great performance but we were clearly a much better side and San Marino's strategy was all about avoiding being scored against - they worked hard and successfully on defense.
2. We are a slightly better than average international side, but nothing exceptional. We are still in a mental state since the exceptional performance in Italia 90. In a sense it's like England feeling for 40 years that they are World Cup winning class since 1966.
3. We've driven out Jack Charlton, Mick McCarthy, Brian Kerr and now we want rid of Steve Staunton. Were they all so very bad?
Let's stop looking for heads and support and build on what we have.
PS...On radio yesterday I loved one Dublin woman when asked on the street if she knew where San Marino was...."I'm not sure, but I know it's not the place near Fairview!"
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Mystical Orion
Lastnight there were low translucent light clouds passing over the sky. This photo aimed at the constellation Orion was taken on a 30 second exposure. The cloud movement created this wispy effect and the suburban street lights illuminated the clouds. I increased the contrast slightly for more impact but that was the only PC edit.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Miss World and Miss Universe
Recently on his TV show Ryan Tubridy interviewed the current Miss Ireland and two former Miss Irelands. At one point Ryan made a brief passing remark on Miss Universe and Miss Galaxy contests. He was gently chided by Andrea Roche that there was no Miss Galaxy contest. Indeed. Silly boy.
But Ryan had touched on something which had long lurked unspoken in my mind. I've always been interested in Astronomy and hence as a kid I'd been confused by the concept of a Miss World and a Miss Universe contest. I used to wonder that if you won Miss World.....well who are you competing against if you then entered the Miss Universe contest? Aliens? Trust the Yanks to have the arrogance to come up with such a title. So far in the 50 year history of the Miss Universe contest there have been no howls of protest from stunning females on planets orbiting stars such as Sirius, Vega and Betelgeuse - not to mention from planets orbiting the trillions and trillions of other stars. But you could picture a top class American Lawyer fighting a lawsuit with a wealthy eccentric to prove the Miss Universe contest to be a complete scam and totally flaunting the rights of other intelligent females in our massive Universe.
Ryan's mention of a Miss Galaxy might be more sensible. A Miss Solar System would be even better. It's a reasonable bet that there are no beautiful females on our neighbouring planets. Any lower animal life forms won't qualify of course - although come to think of it stick insects might count. Intelligence is a must, but cynics might argue not too much of the stuff to rule out American contestants.
Lastly, can you imagine the hissy fits if Miss Universe and Miss World had to compete for the last 1st Class seat on a plane...
Miss Universe: "Me of course. Clearly my title is better than hers!"
Miss World: "As if! How come I beat you in the Miss World contest?"
Stewardess: "Forget it! Neither of you are getting that seat - my boyfriend is the Air Marshal on this flight and he wants to enjoy his book."
But Ryan had touched on something which had long lurked unspoken in my mind. I've always been interested in Astronomy and hence as a kid I'd been confused by the concept of a Miss World and a Miss Universe contest. I used to wonder that if you won Miss World.....well who are you competing against if you then entered the Miss Universe contest? Aliens? Trust the Yanks to have the arrogance to come up with such a title. So far in the 50 year history of the Miss Universe contest there have been no howls of protest from stunning females on planets orbiting stars such as Sirius, Vega and Betelgeuse - not to mention from planets orbiting the trillions and trillions of other stars. But you could picture a top class American Lawyer fighting a lawsuit with a wealthy eccentric to prove the Miss Universe contest to be a complete scam and totally flaunting the rights of other intelligent females in our massive Universe.
Ryan's mention of a Miss Galaxy might be more sensible. A Miss Solar System would be even better. It's a reasonable bet that there are no beautiful females on our neighbouring planets. Any lower animal life forms won't qualify of course - although come to think of it stick insects might count. Intelligence is a must, but cynics might argue not too much of the stuff to rule out American contestants.
Lastly, can you imagine the hissy fits if Miss Universe and Miss World had to compete for the last 1st Class seat on a plane...
Miss Universe: "Me of course. Clearly my title is better than hers!"
Miss World: "As if! How come I beat you in the Miss World contest?"
Stewardess: "Forget it! Neither of you are getting that seat - my boyfriend is the Air Marshal on this flight and he wants to enjoy his book."
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Mouse Hunt...lessons for all.
We've a nice black pet rabbit at home with the very imaginative name "Bunny". Technically Bunny belongs to our 17 year old Shona but we are all involved in his upkeep. In my own case - living with a wife and three daughters - Bunny is the nearest I get to household male bonding...blessed art thou amongst women! Our rabbit's only oddity is that he won't eat carrots - but maybe we're too conditioned to a Bugs Bunny view of the species.
Pre-Christmas an uninvited little mouse set up residence in Bunny's hutch in the back garden. The mouse was quick enough and small enough to temporarily escape through the hutch wire mesh any time we got too close.
Ostensibly it seemed like a harmony of nature scenario...the mouse didn't want to eat the rabbit and the rabbit didn't seem to want to eat the mouse, hence they were irrelevant to each other! However it created a fair bit of debate chez nous. Was Bunny stressed by the mouse? It was hard to tell. The local pet shop owner shrugged and thought "it didn't seem right". But you can never get a good rabbit psychiatrist in Dublin. I began to wonder if it was just us who was being stressed - humans trying to assign our feelings to animals....Yann Mattel's novel Life of Pi comes to mind. Much easier to get a psychiatrist for humans.
Anyhow, pressurised by majority household opinion and no doubt subliminally influenced by too much American TV, I explored the military option. We will make the rabbit's hutch a safe place for rabbits, terrorist mice have no place in this sovereign hutch. We know what is best for Bunny. No expense will be spared, the mouse will be hunted, brought to justice and yes...executed.
The most appropriate weaponry was purchased...a mouse trap.
Years of watching Tom and Gerry cartoons educates you. Mice love cheese. So I put nice cheddar cheese in the trap and placed it into the sleeping quarters of the hutch during the day - when Bunny spends his time in the separate "exercise run" - a 36 Sq ft. garden play pen I constructed for him. I was confident of success. I had made an eloquent pithy speech the previous evening to the daughters..."This is the last sunset the mouse will enjoy on Earth". Smug, cocky.
Mousey did enjoy the following sunset. Indeed he continued to enjoy sunset after sunset. The cheese was ignored. Each morning I tried different bait - variations of cheese types, chocolate, even bits bits of Bunny's cereal. I tried the trap in different parts of the sleeping area. All failed. The food was ignored.
I persevered. It took a full two weeks to catch the little fecker. In the end the food seemed unimportant. When caught, the mouse looked like he had accidentally walked sideways across the trap - the bar had crushed his torso from shoulder to hip. Poor bugger, could have been a slow death.
So we and Bunny had a peaceful mouse-free Christmas. Then one January morning, like a Hollywood nightmare, we had....Mouse 2 !
Army council recalled. Mouse trap set again. A few days later not only had I still not caught the villain but - adding insult to injury - we had yet another mouse! Now we were dealing with two mice making a home.
This was serious. It needed a rethink. Our garden backs on to a golf course and the expanse of Killiney Hill - a lot of nature out there to potentially supply even more field mice. I was also getting frustrated by my military strategy. If it takes two weeks to catch one mouse.....etc, etc. Furthermore, my women wondered if these two were mammy and daddy mice. What if they have babies? It could create all sorts of issues by killing a parent. Ya don't want that on your conscience.
Like great US Presidents of the past....I thought about a withdrawal option. We debated it at home. We decided to move Bunny's sleeping hutch into the house - we have an ideal small porch type room adjacent to the back garden. Problem solved. Bunny now plays in the big outdoor playpen by day and sleeps peacefully indoors - with the additional bonus of avoiding the cruel January night weather. No more stress, struggles, weapons (traps now decommisioned) or deaths.
Maybe I should e-mail the story to George Bush.
Pre-Christmas an uninvited little mouse set up residence in Bunny's hutch in the back garden. The mouse was quick enough and small enough to temporarily escape through the hutch wire mesh any time we got too close.
Ostensibly it seemed like a harmony of nature scenario...the mouse didn't want to eat the rabbit and the rabbit didn't seem to want to eat the mouse, hence they were irrelevant to each other! However it created a fair bit of debate chez nous. Was Bunny stressed by the mouse? It was hard to tell. The local pet shop owner shrugged and thought "it didn't seem right". But you can never get a good rabbit psychiatrist in Dublin. I began to wonder if it was just us who was being stressed - humans trying to assign our feelings to animals....Yann Mattel's novel Life of Pi comes to mind. Much easier to get a psychiatrist for humans.
Anyhow, pressurised by majority household opinion and no doubt subliminally influenced by too much American TV, I explored the military option. We will make the rabbit's hutch a safe place for rabbits, terrorist mice have no place in this sovereign hutch. We know what is best for Bunny. No expense will be spared, the mouse will be hunted, brought to justice and yes...executed.
The most appropriate weaponry was purchased...a mouse trap.
Years of watching Tom and Gerry cartoons educates you. Mice love cheese. So I put nice cheddar cheese in the trap and placed it into the sleeping quarters of the hutch during the day - when Bunny spends his time in the separate "exercise run" - a 36 Sq ft. garden play pen I constructed for him. I was confident of success. I had made an eloquent pithy speech the previous evening to the daughters..."This is the last sunset the mouse will enjoy on Earth". Smug, cocky.
Mousey did enjoy the following sunset. Indeed he continued to enjoy sunset after sunset. The cheese was ignored. Each morning I tried different bait - variations of cheese types, chocolate, even bits bits of Bunny's cereal. I tried the trap in different parts of the sleeping area. All failed. The food was ignored.
I persevered. It took a full two weeks to catch the little fecker. In the end the food seemed unimportant. When caught, the mouse looked like he had accidentally walked sideways across the trap - the bar had crushed his torso from shoulder to hip. Poor bugger, could have been a slow death.
So we and Bunny had a peaceful mouse-free Christmas. Then one January morning, like a Hollywood nightmare, we had....Mouse 2 !
Army council recalled. Mouse trap set again. A few days later not only had I still not caught the villain but - adding insult to injury - we had yet another mouse! Now we were dealing with two mice making a home.
This was serious. It needed a rethink. Our garden backs on to a golf course and the expanse of Killiney Hill - a lot of nature out there to potentially supply even more field mice. I was also getting frustrated by my military strategy. If it takes two weeks to catch one mouse.....etc, etc. Furthermore, my women wondered if these two were mammy and daddy mice. What if they have babies? It could create all sorts of issues by killing a parent. Ya don't want that on your conscience.
Like great US Presidents of the past....I thought about a withdrawal option. We debated it at home. We decided to move Bunny's sleeping hutch into the house - we have an ideal small porch type room adjacent to the back garden. Problem solved. Bunny now plays in the big outdoor playpen by day and sleeps peacefully indoors - with the additional bonus of avoiding the cruel January night weather. No more stress, struggles, weapons (traps now decommisioned) or deaths.
Maybe I should e-mail the story to George Bush.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Londonderry air!
Fair dues, the Londonderry name is staying for now.
Sure we couldn't have the entire community calling it Derry or indeed everyone calling it Londonderry. If that madness happened how the heck could you figure out what type of human you were talking to?
What city are you from?
Answer 1: "I'm from Londonderry". Mmmh, clearly a Protestant/Unionist.
Answer 2: "I'm from Derry". Mmmh, clearly a Catholic/Nationalist.
Very useful indeed. We don't have many good tools like this in the Republic. It can take years to figure the religion or political slant of new acquaintances. :-)
Sure we couldn't have the entire community calling it Derry or indeed everyone calling it Londonderry. If that madness happened how the heck could you figure out what type of human you were talking to?
What city are you from?
Answer 1: "I'm from Londonderry". Mmmh, clearly a Protestant/Unionist.
Answer 2: "I'm from Derry". Mmmh, clearly a Catholic/Nationalist.
Very useful indeed. We don't have many good tools like this in the Republic. It can take years to figure the religion or political slant of new acquaintances. :-)
Sunday, January 21, 2007
David Ervine - A life Less Ordinary
I couldn't fail to be moved listening to David Ervine on tonight's RTE programme. He made a plethora of amazing statements, things your could only admire. He spoke wisely on the power of education, the existing evidence of progress, his lack of fear of change. On a little level of detail I loved his unmistakable happiness at being recently invited as the only politician to a West Belfast Catholic school - an ex UVF man presenting prizes to students in this school once attended by Gerry Adams. It was also moving to hear him talk on how he looked forward to live to see - in maybe 20 years - Northern Ireland people looking back at their past and saying "What was all the fuss about?"
There is enough empowering material in this program to be quoted for decades. I don't care how misdirected David Ervine was in the past - education changed him and he was big enough to embrace it and use it. So can others. I was impressed and I hope his legacies are used by the people of Northern Ireland to move forward. And finally - isn't it sad how often we only pay serious attention to the wisdom of a person when they are dead.
There is enough empowering material in this program to be quoted for decades. I don't care how misdirected David Ervine was in the past - education changed him and he was big enough to embrace it and use it. So can others. I was impressed and I hope his legacies are used by the people of Northern Ireland to move forward. And finally - isn't it sad how often we only pay serious attention to the wisdom of a person when they are dead.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
I was live on the telly tonight!
Well, not my ugly face...just my voice.
It seems the author Paul McKenna liked my review on his book I can make you THIN. I was asked to talk to him by phone about the book on a live TV show on QVC satellite channel - it airs on the Sky Digital package. Of course the show was a blatant one hour promotion of his book and CDs. Anyway it all happened tonight at about 7.30pm. It was interesting to be chatting to Paul McKenna for about 10 minutes on the phone and looking at him on TV at the same time. A bit like Pat Kenny phoning you from the Late Late Show - but with Pat Kenny winning the prize! So maybe I helped Mr. McKenna get richer. But credit where due, his book genuinely helped me to lose 28 pounds in weight.
It demonstrates the power of free referrals in sales - never ignore a happy customer!
It seems the author Paul McKenna liked my review on his book I can make you THIN. I was asked to talk to him by phone about the book on a live TV show on QVC satellite channel - it airs on the Sky Digital package. Of course the show was a blatant one hour promotion of his book and CDs. Anyway it all happened tonight at about 7.30pm. It was interesting to be chatting to Paul McKenna for about 10 minutes on the phone and looking at him on TV at the same time. A bit like Pat Kenny phoning you from the Late Late Show - but with Pat Kenny winning the prize! So maybe I helped Mr. McKenna get richer. But credit where due, his book genuinely helped me to lose 28 pounds in weight.
It demonstrates the power of free referrals in sales - never ignore a happy customer!
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
George Harrison and Bangladesh Concert 1971
I liked the late George Harrison. From the start in the Beatles he was the younger quieter lad and in the shadow of the exceptional combined talents of Lennon/McCartney. George wrote some very good music and was a good performer. He also came across as a kind, friendly, humble, publicity shy individual. In a World where those who shout loudest get the most attention I often feel George Harrison didn't always get enough credit for his personal contribution to music and the World.
Recently I had reason to recall one of George Harrison's great legacies. A satellite TV channel aired a documentary on the 1971 Bangladesh concert in Maddison Square Gardens NY. I recall the concert well as a teenager. It was the first music concert of it's kind to raise significant financial aid for a humanitarian disaster. It was difficult to get artists committed for such an unknown type concept and had a good degree of risk. George Harrison was doing lots of work on the phone on an exceptionally tight timescale to organise musicians and he even wrote the Bangladesh song for the two day concert. Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton and many other good artists came along to perform and given that the Beatles had broken up a year earlier it was nice to have Ringo Starr also performing on the same stage as George. The concert raised millions for the region and created a powerful awareness of what musicians could do for the World. We think of the high profile of Bob Geldof and Bono etc. in using Music to help the Third World. But these men acknowledge that this concept all started with the serene George Harrison and his friend Ravi Shankar.
Recently I had reason to recall one of George Harrison's great legacies. A satellite TV channel aired a documentary on the 1971 Bangladesh concert in Maddison Square Gardens NY. I recall the concert well as a teenager. It was the first music concert of it's kind to raise significant financial aid for a humanitarian disaster. It was difficult to get artists committed for such an unknown type concept and had a good degree of risk. George Harrison was doing lots of work on the phone on an exceptionally tight timescale to organise musicians and he even wrote the Bangladesh song for the two day concert. Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton and many other good artists came along to perform and given that the Beatles had broken up a year earlier it was nice to have Ringo Starr also performing on the same stage as George. The concert raised millions for the region and created a powerful awareness of what musicians could do for the World. We think of the high profile of Bob Geldof and Bono etc. in using Music to help the Third World. But these men acknowledge that this concept all started with the serene George Harrison and his friend Ravi Shankar.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Domestic waste and recycling - how to improve?
Our home is in the Dun Laoghaire Rathdown County Council (DLRCC) region of Dublin. The council charge for waste collections by weight plus a flat charge for each pickup - you chose how often you leave the bin out and the bin lorry comes around every week. We are partly motivated by the price saving of reducing weight/pickups but I'm also motivated by the incredibly high proportion of what we throw out that can be recycled to help the country and the planet. At home we've got it down now to just about one bin pick-up every 4 weeks (sometimes 3 weeks) for normal waste. Not bad I guess for a family of effectively 5 adults (plus a rabbit!) and plenty of consuming friends visiting almost daily.
DLRCC arrange a green bin pickup only every 4 weeks. That is a challenge, it's often stuffed by 3 weeks - even by standing into the bin and crushing the contents down. Other good items to recycle are plastic bottles. They are not heavy but would also take up space in the regular bin leading to more regular collections. DLRCC don't let us put out plastic in the green bin - just paper based items and metal. I understand some councils in other parts of the country do take plastic on green bin collections. Anyway, at home we put a special tray in a hall cloakroom for plastic - as well as a glass bottle tray. I've a dislike for making special trips to recycle centres so my routine with the glass is to dump it in a bottle bank at my tennis club on Sunday mornings when I'm down playing. Plastics are not so easy, less places take plastic. My method at present is to put the few bits daily into my gym bag and dispose it at the gym small plastic bottle bin - as I tend to be going there regularly anyway.
So the vast bulk of our non-recycled waste is effectively food waste. There are no brown bin plans as far as I can tell in DLRCC. I suppose we should consider a compost bin but it seems like more work and we are kept busy recycling as it is. Back 40 or more years ago food waste recycling was actually quite neat. I recall as a child what was called the "Piggy Bin" for things like potato peel and the like in our kitchen. A guy came around collecting this free for use in pig feed. In Derry in the distant past my Mum said there was a similar "Brock man" who collected food waste. In fact in Derry there were others who collected the old cinders and dust from fires.
The Irish seem to be getting better at recycling in recent years but I know that if good minds are put to play it could improve a lot more. I'm glad to hear how others deal with waste and recycling, brown bins, compost bins, or ideas generally. Maybe we could get councilors or experts to listen or have a say also.
DLRCC arrange a green bin pickup only every 4 weeks. That is a challenge, it's often stuffed by 3 weeks - even by standing into the bin and crushing the contents down. Other good items to recycle are plastic bottles. They are not heavy but would also take up space in the regular bin leading to more regular collections. DLRCC don't let us put out plastic in the green bin - just paper based items and metal. I understand some councils in other parts of the country do take plastic on green bin collections. Anyway, at home we put a special tray in a hall cloakroom for plastic - as well as a glass bottle tray. I've a dislike for making special trips to recycle centres so my routine with the glass is to dump it in a bottle bank at my tennis club on Sunday mornings when I'm down playing. Plastics are not so easy, less places take plastic. My method at present is to put the few bits daily into my gym bag and dispose it at the gym small plastic bottle bin - as I tend to be going there regularly anyway.
So the vast bulk of our non-recycled waste is effectively food waste. There are no brown bin plans as far as I can tell in DLRCC. I suppose we should consider a compost bin but it seems like more work and we are kept busy recycling as it is. Back 40 or more years ago food waste recycling was actually quite neat. I recall as a child what was called the "Piggy Bin" for things like potato peel and the like in our kitchen. A guy came around collecting this free for use in pig feed. In Derry in the distant past my Mum said there was a similar "Brock man" who collected food waste. In fact in Derry there were others who collected the old cinders and dust from fires.
The Irish seem to be getting better at recycling in recent years but I know that if good minds are put to play it could improve a lot more. I'm glad to hear how others deal with waste and recycling, brown bins, compost bins, or ideas generally. Maybe we could get councilors or experts to listen or have a say also.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Good book: "I can make you THIN" - Paul McKenna
It's that time of year - I notice the gyms are getting full again with well intentioned post-Christmas fight-the-flab people. Diets have also started.
In case it's helpful to anyone I would highly recommend the titled book above. It helped me lose 2 stone over a few months before Christmas and it's philosophy does help you to keep weight off - even with Christmas temptations I only managed to creep on 2 pounds, which I'm now losing again.
The book is beautifully simple. Paul McKenna is not a dietitian. He believes that diets do not work - or if they do seem to work he reckons people will put all the weight back on again before too long. He explains that diets create an artificial tension around food. Paul studied people who are so-called naturally thin over long periods and figured it was very much an attitude of mind. There is nothing in the book on calories and what type of food to eat. Paul reckons that if you are in tune with your body's needs then you will tend to eat the right food over time. He doesn't even recommend that you weigh yourself. You will know when you look right. Naturally thin people don't bother studying diet books on what they eat nor do they obsessively weigh themselves - very often they don't know what they weigh (also see * below).
Many will say weight problems runs in families and is to do with genetics etc. However, I did listen to an interesting view by an expert - Padraig Murphy -on the RTE program "The Health Squad" on this subject. He reckons that the idea of particular families being overweight is more to do with their common mental attitude, lifestyle and behavior than genetics.
Anyway the book's idea is that you should eat when you are actually hungry. Eat slowly and enjoy every mouthful. Stop when you feel satisfied. It's very simple. Paul puts huge emphasis on the difference between emotional hunger and true hunger, which is really the key. We often eat when we are bored or for a variety of other emotional reasons. Many of us also have a thing about finishing everything on our plate. If you eat slowly and enjoy and chew your food properly you will get full and stop without overeating. It works. And you don't need to suffer - in the same way that apparently naturally thin people don't suffer.
At the end of the day of course it is a calorie equation - calories burned being greater than calories consumed - you lose weight. So Paul does encourage some exercise to speed up the process - it's good for you and should be something you enjoy.
Anyhow, I feel a lot better being lighter and it has done wonders for my fitness on the tennis court.
* There is some truth in this. A pal of one of my daughters, D, is very model sized thin and eats normally. She is 6'1" and the funny thing is she doesn't know what she weighs. At a school domestic science event she and other girls were asked their height and weight. Class mates were putting down things like 5'2" 10 stone; 5'5" 11 stone, and so forth. D was listening to this and was embarrassed that she only knew her height but not her weight. So when it came to her turn to speak she ended up thinking that because she was much taller than everyone she must also be much heavier. So she announced with sincerity and to everyone's laughter - 6'1" 18 stone! Probably nearly twice her true weight!
In case it's helpful to anyone I would highly recommend the titled book above. It helped me lose 2 stone over a few months before Christmas and it's philosophy does help you to keep weight off - even with Christmas temptations I only managed to creep on 2 pounds, which I'm now losing again.
The book is beautifully simple. Paul McKenna is not a dietitian. He believes that diets do not work - or if they do seem to work he reckons people will put all the weight back on again before too long. He explains that diets create an artificial tension around food. Paul studied people who are so-called naturally thin over long periods and figured it was very much an attitude of mind. There is nothing in the book on calories and what type of food to eat. Paul reckons that if you are in tune with your body's needs then you will tend to eat the right food over time. He doesn't even recommend that you weigh yourself. You will know when you look right. Naturally thin people don't bother studying diet books on what they eat nor do they obsessively weigh themselves - very often they don't know what they weigh (also see * below).
Many will say weight problems runs in families and is to do with genetics etc. However, I did listen to an interesting view by an expert - Padraig Murphy -on the RTE program "The Health Squad" on this subject. He reckons that the idea of particular families being overweight is more to do with their common mental attitude, lifestyle and behavior than genetics.
Anyway the book's idea is that you should eat when you are actually hungry. Eat slowly and enjoy every mouthful. Stop when you feel satisfied. It's very simple. Paul puts huge emphasis on the difference between emotional hunger and true hunger, which is really the key. We often eat when we are bored or for a variety of other emotional reasons. Many of us also have a thing about finishing everything on our plate. If you eat slowly and enjoy and chew your food properly you will get full and stop without overeating. It works. And you don't need to suffer - in the same way that apparently naturally thin people don't suffer.
At the end of the day of course it is a calorie equation - calories burned being greater than calories consumed - you lose weight. So Paul does encourage some exercise to speed up the process - it's good for you and should be something you enjoy.
Anyhow, I feel a lot better being lighter and it has done wonders for my fitness on the tennis court.
* There is some truth in this. A pal of one of my daughters, D, is very model sized thin and eats normally. She is 6'1" and the funny thing is she doesn't know what she weighs. At a school domestic science event she and other girls were asked their height and weight. Class mates were putting down things like 5'2" 10 stone; 5'5" 11 stone, and so forth. D was listening to this and was embarrassed that she only knew her height but not her weight. So when it came to her turn to speak she ended up thinking that because she was much taller than everyone she must also be much heavier. So she announced with sincerity and to everyone's laughter - 6'1" 18 stone! Probably nearly twice her true weight!
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Santa sees when you are sleeping!
I was 7 years old. First Christmas in my very own bedroom in our new house. Trying hard to sleep. Santa doesn't come if you're not asleep. But I was too excited to sleep thinking about presents.
It was still only maybe 10 pm when I heard the front door opening downstairs. Then my parents voices..."Ah, it's yourself! Come in, come in!"
Crikey...it's Santa...I'm not asleep!!
Jovial talk continued downstairs and then I heard Santa say "Is the wee fella up in bed?"
Next I could hear Santa's heavy steps on the stairs.
Oh my God! I'm in huge trouble now.....he sees when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake.
The heavy steps crossed the landing and stopped at my room. I covered my head with the blanket and tried to stay still. I'm asleep, I'm asleep.
I heard my door opening and could hear Santa breathing. He was standing at the door looking and listening to see if I was awake. I ventured one eye open and from under the blankets I could detect the light from the landing illuminating my room. Be very still...Santa will leave the presents at end of my bed...but I mustn't move a muscle.
I could still hear the breathing but no movement from Santa. This was not good... he knows when you're awake.
Then my heart sank as I heard Santa close my door and retreat down the landing and down the stairs. I could hear murmurs amongst the adults downstairs. Eventually Santa left by the hall door. I sat up and looked at the end of my bed, Nothing, no presents. I was completely deflated. Should I go downstairs, tell my parents? No, bad idea. Santa might just come back again. But maybe he won't. My mind was filling with worries and negative thoughts and eventually I cried myself to sleep.
I woke up and it was morning and bright. I looked at the end of my bed and my face lit up with joy. Presents!! What a relief.
When I spoke to my parents I told them how relieved I was that Santa came.
"Relieved? Why?" said Mum.
I told them the whole story. A smile emerged on my Mum's face.
"You had no need to worry, Santa came much later than that. The man you heard was your Uncle Tom coming on a visit. He went up to your room to give you money. Bad idea that you pretended to be asleep, I'd say you lost out on getting a 10 shilling note!"
Note: This was another childhood memory of Uncle Tom which my kids liked to hear when they were young - their second favourite after Uncle Tom and the Bubble Car
It was still only maybe 10 pm when I heard the front door opening downstairs. Then my parents voices..."Ah, it's yourself! Come in, come in!"
Crikey...it's Santa...I'm not asleep!!
Jovial talk continued downstairs and then I heard Santa say "Is the wee fella up in bed?"
Next I could hear Santa's heavy steps on the stairs.
Oh my God! I'm in huge trouble now.....he sees when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake.
The heavy steps crossed the landing and stopped at my room. I covered my head with the blanket and tried to stay still. I'm asleep, I'm asleep.
I heard my door opening and could hear Santa breathing. He was standing at the door looking and listening to see if I was awake. I ventured one eye open and from under the blankets I could detect the light from the landing illuminating my room. Be very still...Santa will leave the presents at end of my bed...but I mustn't move a muscle.
I could still hear the breathing but no movement from Santa. This was not good... he knows when you're awake.
Then my heart sank as I heard Santa close my door and retreat down the landing and down the stairs. I could hear murmurs amongst the adults downstairs. Eventually Santa left by the hall door. I sat up and looked at the end of my bed, Nothing, no presents. I was completely deflated. Should I go downstairs, tell my parents? No, bad idea. Santa might just come back again. But maybe he won't. My mind was filling with worries and negative thoughts and eventually I cried myself to sleep.
I woke up and it was morning and bright. I looked at the end of my bed and my face lit up with joy. Presents!! What a relief.
When I spoke to my parents I told them how relieved I was that Santa came.
"Relieved? Why?" said Mum.
I told them the whole story. A smile emerged on my Mum's face.
"You had no need to worry, Santa came much later than that. The man you heard was your Uncle Tom coming on a visit. He went up to your room to give you money. Bad idea that you pretended to be asleep, I'd say you lost out on getting a 10 shilling note!"
Note: This was another childhood memory of Uncle Tom which my kids liked to hear when they were young - their second favourite after Uncle Tom and the Bubble Car
Monday, December 11, 2006
Angela's Ashes and Penny Apples
I recently finished reading Angela's Ashes - Frank McCourt's memoirs of his 1930s and 1940s childhood in the worst slums of Limerick. Like most people I had seen the movie. Four years ago I read Bill Cullen's memoirs of childhood from the slightly later period of 1940s and 1950s Dublin slums in It's a Long Way from Penny Apples. It's tempting to compare and contrast the two books from my own point of view.
Both books were the author's first work which they each wrote when aged in their sixties. Both have a simplicity of style and directness. Frank being a lecturer, had a bit more flair. Bill I'm sure would admit he is no great natural writer and it particularly shows in the school essay-like style in the very early sections. In particular the conversations he attributed to his parents during the Strand bombings lacked credibility - very Famous Five stereotype nonsense - and in fact I was close to giving up on the book in the first 20-30 pages. Bill admits he did get much help in constructing the book but as the early imagination and third party sourced sections dissolve into his own actual childhood memories the power of his experiences becomes captivating and even sharpen his story telling abilities.
Angela's Ashes of course has enjoyed huge success. It helped that Frank lived in USA and was originally born there and success in the USA for a book is something to savour. And there's the movie to boost revenue and further energise the book sales. So Frank made a ton of money no doubt. Bill Cullen on the other hand was already fairly wealthy when he wrote Penny Apples and book proceeds he gave to the Irish Youth Foundation. I'm guessing its sales are nothing near the level of Angela's Ashes and that it is predominantly an Irish market. However, I'm leaving this scaling area aside and I'm judging the two books purely on their own merits to me as a reader.
Frank McCourt writes Angela's Ashes from the perspective of the child he was at the time. In that sense it is honest, simple, and contains the humour associated with a child's view. The poverty, illness and tragedies which his family endured were overwhelming. Even by local standards in Limerick at the time they were near the edge of destruction. As a child Frank was aware that they was very poor.
In contrast Penny Apples is written very much from Bill Cullen's perspective as a modern adult and includes a useful macro view of the contemporary influential people and local history. Included are studies of people and institutes like Alfie Byrne, Hector Grey, Louis Copeland, the Mitchels rosary bead factory, the Magdalene laundries and several interesting early first hand experiences of Charles Haughey and Haughey Boland Accountants. Even Rock Hudson makes an appearance on a visit to Dublin and we get an early insight into his sexual orientation and possible predatory tendency with children. The stories he related from his granny Molly Darcy were priceless treasures. One included her first hand experience of the 1916 leaders being marched down Sackville Street. Another was from when she was a teenager working in a big Dublin house and an old man working there told her about his harrowing childhood experience of he and his parents and siblings being evicted during the Famine. This was very captivating - to think there are still links to firsthand stories of the Famine.
I thought Bill gave a refreshingly honest view of the Catholic clergy as he saw it. The priests, nuns and bothers usually came out better than in many other stories from this era. It's a view I would have in general agreed with from my own slightly later experiences in Dublin. The religious orders came out somewhat worse in Angela's Ashes. In spite of considerable hardship Penny Apples was rich in optimism, survival and business ideas from a very ingenious yet commonsense angle. I found the variety of the book very enriching. I do understand Bill's view that they were poor as children, but that as children they didn't know they were poor. Everyone else around them was similar. Frank's situation in Limerick was much worse and more depressing and there seemed to be no escape except for a distant notion of somehow getting to America.
Many common threads are clear in both books. The huge influence of the Catholic Church, poverty, illness, children dying, the demon drink. In addition, strong women stand out - maternal grandmothers in particular and contrasted with weak or unhelpful fathers. I get an impression that Bill over-glamorised his parents and relations to some degree but he did say negative things as his father went a bit off the rails later. It's possible that - as Bill has lived his full life in Ireland - he is conscious of many living family and friends and decided to steer a cautious approach. Frank McCourt was probably somewhat freer being in USA and you do detect greater openness to his descriptions of people, although it tends to lack depth.
Both books are important works which capture an Ireland which has gone. In all truth I took away much more from Penny Apples. It was so multidimensional in what it touched on, the events and people encountered were fascinating. I was enriched with knowledge. It also is a tidy work in that it progresses logically and reaches a clean ending. It's main downside was dialogues attributed to people - it was usually oversimplistic and often lacked credibility. Penny Apples is no masterclass literature in presentation skills but it's raw content is brilliant.
Angela's Ashes was reasonably well written but I found it too long, too simple and continuous in one-dimensional wall-to-wall poverty as seen by a child. It was certainly poignant, sad, mixed with child humour, but it could have been told with more attention to the variety of characters and extract a bigger picture. For instance - the title of the book leans on images of his mother staring quietly into the ashes in the fireplace. She was a complex character and must have had many thoughts to wrestle with. I would have loved to understand her and others more. There are many clues but just not enough analysis. It's a feature of telling the book from a child's firsthand view - you lose Frank's analytical perspective as an adult looking back. I suppose he was leaving the reader to think things through. The closest he came to serious analysis was in the powerful opening page overview before he drifts into the child vision. Also the book ends as Frank leaves Ireland so in that sense it is an incomplete view of his life (his later book 'Tis covers the rest). Angela's Ashes is a very good book and the poverty was painfully hit home, but I think it just missed out on a genuine opportunity to be a classical masterpiece.
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Both books were the author's first work which they each wrote when aged in their sixties. Both have a simplicity of style and directness. Frank being a lecturer, had a bit more flair. Bill I'm sure would admit he is no great natural writer and it particularly shows in the school essay-like style in the very early sections. In particular the conversations he attributed to his parents during the Strand bombings lacked credibility - very Famous Five stereotype nonsense - and in fact I was close to giving up on the book in the first 20-30 pages. Bill admits he did get much help in constructing the book but as the early imagination and third party sourced sections dissolve into his own actual childhood memories the power of his experiences becomes captivating and even sharpen his story telling abilities.
Angela's Ashes of course has enjoyed huge success. It helped that Frank lived in USA and was originally born there and success in the USA for a book is something to savour. And there's the movie to boost revenue and further energise the book sales. So Frank made a ton of money no doubt. Bill Cullen on the other hand was already fairly wealthy when he wrote Penny Apples and book proceeds he gave to the Irish Youth Foundation. I'm guessing its sales are nothing near the level of Angela's Ashes and that it is predominantly an Irish market. However, I'm leaving this scaling area aside and I'm judging the two books purely on their own merits to me as a reader.
Frank McCourt writes Angela's Ashes from the perspective of the child he was at the time. In that sense it is honest, simple, and contains the humour associated with a child's view. The poverty, illness and tragedies which his family endured were overwhelming. Even by local standards in Limerick at the time they were near the edge of destruction. As a child Frank was aware that they was very poor.
In contrast Penny Apples is written very much from Bill Cullen's perspective as a modern adult and includes a useful macro view of the contemporary influential people and local history. Included are studies of people and institutes like Alfie Byrne, Hector Grey, Louis Copeland, the Mitchels rosary bead factory, the Magdalene laundries and several interesting early first hand experiences of Charles Haughey and Haughey Boland Accountants. Even Rock Hudson makes an appearance on a visit to Dublin and we get an early insight into his sexual orientation and possible predatory tendency with children. The stories he related from his granny Molly Darcy were priceless treasures. One included her first hand experience of the 1916 leaders being marched down Sackville Street. Another was from when she was a teenager working in a big Dublin house and an old man working there told her about his harrowing childhood experience of he and his parents and siblings being evicted during the Famine. This was very captivating - to think there are still links to firsthand stories of the Famine.
I thought Bill gave a refreshingly honest view of the Catholic clergy as he saw it. The priests, nuns and bothers usually came out better than in many other stories from this era. It's a view I would have in general agreed with from my own slightly later experiences in Dublin. The religious orders came out somewhat worse in Angela's Ashes. In spite of considerable hardship Penny Apples was rich in optimism, survival and business ideas from a very ingenious yet commonsense angle. I found the variety of the book very enriching. I do understand Bill's view that they were poor as children, but that as children they didn't know they were poor. Everyone else around them was similar. Frank's situation in Limerick was much worse and more depressing and there seemed to be no escape except for a distant notion of somehow getting to America.
Many common threads are clear in both books. The huge influence of the Catholic Church, poverty, illness, children dying, the demon drink. In addition, strong women stand out - maternal grandmothers in particular and contrasted with weak or unhelpful fathers. I get an impression that Bill over-glamorised his parents and relations to some degree but he did say negative things as his father went a bit off the rails later. It's possible that - as Bill has lived his full life in Ireland - he is conscious of many living family and friends and decided to steer a cautious approach. Frank McCourt was probably somewhat freer being in USA and you do detect greater openness to his descriptions of people, although it tends to lack depth.
Both books are important works which capture an Ireland which has gone. In all truth I took away much more from Penny Apples. It was so multidimensional in what it touched on, the events and people encountered were fascinating. I was enriched with knowledge. It also is a tidy work in that it progresses logically and reaches a clean ending. It's main downside was dialogues attributed to people - it was usually oversimplistic and often lacked credibility. Penny Apples is no masterclass literature in presentation skills but it's raw content is brilliant.
Angela's Ashes was reasonably well written but I found it too long, too simple and continuous in one-dimensional wall-to-wall poverty as seen by a child. It was certainly poignant, sad, mixed with child humour, but it could have been told with more attention to the variety of characters and extract a bigger picture. For instance - the title of the book leans on images of his mother staring quietly into the ashes in the fireplace. She was a complex character and must have had many thoughts to wrestle with. I would have loved to understand her and others more. There are many clues but just not enough analysis. It's a feature of telling the book from a child's firsthand view - you lose Frank's analytical perspective as an adult looking back. I suppose he was leaving the reader to think things through. The closest he came to serious analysis was in the powerful opening page overview before he drifts into the child vision. Also the book ends as Frank leaves Ireland so in that sense it is an incomplete view of his life (his later book 'Tis covers the rest). Angela's Ashes is a very good book and the poverty was painfully hit home, but I think it just missed out on a genuine opportunity to be a classical masterpiece.
http://www.technorati.com/search/irishblogsandbooks
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
The night the Pope bombed appropriate parts of Derry!
My mother grew up in Derry and was a young adult there during Word War II. She and her family were nationalists (and Catholic) and lived in a predominantly loyalist (and Protestant) part of Derry. A story she had told of one of her experiences still makes me smile....
One night a German bombing raid over Derry resulted in some devastation of houses. There was considerable talk about it the following day around Derry. The big subject for some of the loyalist people was that the houses destroyed were all in Protestant areas of the city. This caused a bitter debate and speculation that the bombing raid was a Popish plot. They always had a thing about the Pope. The theory spread like fire and imaginations flared. It culminated in one woman claiming that she actually saw the Pope himself in the German bomber and that he must have been pointing out to the pilot which areas of the city were Protestant so that they could just bomb those places. When challenged on her exceptional eyesight in the dark the women said she knew it was the Pope because she could just make out his tall distinctive hat at the window of the bomber! Coupled with popular talk of Pope Pious XII being at least Nazi neutral due to his non-condemnation of Nazi actions, there was a firm body of people who believed and spread the rumour of the Pope directing the bomber. The local nationalists where my mother lived kept publicly silent due to being badly outnumbered!
The image of the Pope with all his robes and tall hat in a German bomber pointing out Protestant parts of the city would make an excellent Monty Python or Father Ted type TV sketch! I feel awkward writing this blog in our modern all-inclusive Ireland, but it was funny at the time it was told.
One night a German bombing raid over Derry resulted in some devastation of houses. There was considerable talk about it the following day around Derry. The big subject for some of the loyalist people was that the houses destroyed were all in Protestant areas of the city. This caused a bitter debate and speculation that the bombing raid was a Popish plot. They always had a thing about the Pope. The theory spread like fire and imaginations flared. It culminated in one woman claiming that she actually saw the Pope himself in the German bomber and that he must have been pointing out to the pilot which areas of the city were Protestant so that they could just bomb those places. When challenged on her exceptional eyesight in the dark the women said she knew it was the Pope because she could just make out his tall distinctive hat at the window of the bomber! Coupled with popular talk of Pope Pious XII being at least Nazi neutral due to his non-condemnation of Nazi actions, there was a firm body of people who believed and spread the rumour of the Pope directing the bomber. The local nationalists where my mother lived kept publicly silent due to being badly outnumbered!
The image of the Pope with all his robes and tall hat in a German bomber pointing out Protestant parts of the city would make an excellent Monty Python or Father Ted type TV sketch! I feel awkward writing this blog in our modern all-inclusive Ireland, but it was funny at the time it was told.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Traveling through Northern Ireland...briskly!
My wife and I traveled up to Moville in Donegal on Thursday. We were bringing an aunt up to a funeral of a cousin's husband. It was a tough days driving up and down - ten and a half hours in the car - not helped by an hour each way on the M50 as we hit it at morning and evening rush hours.
Anyway, we went through Northern Ireland to get to Moville via Derry. I'm used to traveling in NI since I was very young as my Mum's family are from Derry. However in recent years I'm beginning to notice it's often easier to live with Continental Europe than these six counties on our island. Here are some niggles from Thursday's trip....
1. We decided to eat in Donegal before we returned via NI. I couldn't cope with having to deal with Sterling after spending the last four years using Euros at home and in trips to to much further places like Portugal, Spain, France and Italy.
2. The roads in NI are still marked in mph, which is weird having just got adjusted to kph both in the Republic and in the continent. Given that there is no noticeable border point to/from NI you have to start thinking what units the speed signs are in at border areas.
3. The Republic actually in general now has better roads than NI. I remember when it was the opposite.
4. As well as not eating in NI I wasn't tempted to buy petrol either - it seemed to work out at an average of around 1.50 Euro per litre!!
5. Our mobiles phones roamed into Orange and Vodafone respectively in NI - strange as we are both O2 and O2 claim to be one rate for the island. I suppose we could have stopped the car and forced the phones onto O2, but we were in a hurry and we couldn't be bothered.
So it was a case of - let's get through NI briskly - don't eat or spend sterling, don't buy petrol, don't use the phone, be careful on the narrow main roads and interpret where mph signs begin and end.
I'd feel a lot neater in NI if the UK would become more committed Europeans.
Anyway, we went through Northern Ireland to get to Moville via Derry. I'm used to traveling in NI since I was very young as my Mum's family are from Derry. However in recent years I'm beginning to notice it's often easier to live with Continental Europe than these six counties on our island. Here are some niggles from Thursday's trip....
1. We decided to eat in Donegal before we returned via NI. I couldn't cope with having to deal with Sterling after spending the last four years using Euros at home and in trips to to much further places like Portugal, Spain, France and Italy.
2. The roads in NI are still marked in mph, which is weird having just got adjusted to kph both in the Republic and in the continent. Given that there is no noticeable border point to/from NI you have to start thinking what units the speed signs are in at border areas.
3. The Republic actually in general now has better roads than NI. I remember when it was the opposite.
4. As well as not eating in NI I wasn't tempted to buy petrol either - it seemed to work out at an average of around 1.50 Euro per litre!!
5. Our mobiles phones roamed into Orange and Vodafone respectively in NI - strange as we are both O2 and O2 claim to be one rate for the island. I suppose we could have stopped the car and forced the phones onto O2, but we were in a hurry and we couldn't be bothered.
So it was a case of - let's get through NI briskly - don't eat or spend sterling, don't buy petrol, don't use the phone, be careful on the narrow main roads and interpret where mph signs begin and end.
I'd feel a lot neater in NI if the UK would become more committed Europeans.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Near Death Experiences
I seem to be in a weird blogging mood lately, spooky. Maybe it's November being a dead month.
Stories of near death experiences are often interesting. I'm willing to accept that many of them may be some elaborate dream type experience. However many are difficult to explain due to the hard evidence they provide. An example of one experience I read of which always sticks in my mind is as follows...
An American middle aged woman had a heart attack in a US city which she was visiting and which she was not very familiar with. She was rushed to a local hospital and at one stage on the ground floor theatre her heart stopped and the medics took quite awhile to restart her heart. As she recovered later that day in a 3rd floor ward she related a near death experience to her nurse. She claimed she had floated up out of her body, out of the walls and upwards until she was even a bit above the roof of the hospital. She was able to describe the hospital well for someone who was unfamiliar with this city. In particular she described floating above the top floor of the hospital and remarked that she saw a tennis shoe sitting on a ledge outside a window. The nurse listened to her and consoled her but didn't take her story at all seriously. A dying person's mind plays tricks, she reckoned.
Later that day the nurse had occasion to be on the 7th floor and was doing something at the window. Over at the other wing of the L-shaped hospital she noticed an object sitting on a ledge. She then thought of what the women had said and decided she might chance a closer look. When she got over to the correct room she looked out the window and sure enough there was a tennis shoe on the ledge. At this stage the nurse was more than intrigued. She picked up the shoe and went right back down to the ward on the 3rd floor where the women was in bed. She wanted to test her further and walked up to her with the shoe hidden behind her back.
"When you were dying you said you floated up and you saw a tennis shoe on the top floor ledge?
"Yes".
"you never told me what colour it was."
"It was blue" the woman said without hesitation.
The nurse was stunned and showed the woman the blue tennis shoe she had hidden. The woman had only come into the hospital that day and had never been taken beyond the 3rd floor, nor had she been off her back in bed. The nurse hugged her and later became a serious student of near death experiences.
I've read other stories verified by doctors and surgeons of patients who almost died during an operation describing exact details of instruments and objects in operating theatres when they were clearly unconscious coming in and out of the room.
It's yet another strange area which requires study.
Stories of near death experiences are often interesting. I'm willing to accept that many of them may be some elaborate dream type experience. However many are difficult to explain due to the hard evidence they provide. An example of one experience I read of which always sticks in my mind is as follows...
An American middle aged woman had a heart attack in a US city which she was visiting and which she was not very familiar with. She was rushed to a local hospital and at one stage on the ground floor theatre her heart stopped and the medics took quite awhile to restart her heart. As she recovered later that day in a 3rd floor ward she related a near death experience to her nurse. She claimed she had floated up out of her body, out of the walls and upwards until she was even a bit above the roof of the hospital. She was able to describe the hospital well for someone who was unfamiliar with this city. In particular she described floating above the top floor of the hospital and remarked that she saw a tennis shoe sitting on a ledge outside a window. The nurse listened to her and consoled her but didn't take her story at all seriously. A dying person's mind plays tricks, she reckoned.
Later that day the nurse had occasion to be on the 7th floor and was doing something at the window. Over at the other wing of the L-shaped hospital she noticed an object sitting on a ledge. She then thought of what the women had said and decided she might chance a closer look. When she got over to the correct room she looked out the window and sure enough there was a tennis shoe on the ledge. At this stage the nurse was more than intrigued. She picked up the shoe and went right back down to the ward on the 3rd floor where the women was in bed. She wanted to test her further and walked up to her with the shoe hidden behind her back.
"When you were dying you said you floated up and you saw a tennis shoe on the top floor ledge?
"Yes".
"you never told me what colour it was."
"It was blue" the woman said without hesitation.
The nurse was stunned and showed the woman the blue tennis shoe she had hidden. The woman had only come into the hospital that day and had never been taken beyond the 3rd floor, nor had she been off her back in bed. The nurse hugged her and later became a serious student of near death experiences.
I've read other stories verified by doctors and surgeons of patients who almost died during an operation describing exact details of instruments and objects in operating theatres when they were clearly unconscious coming in and out of the room.
It's yet another strange area which requires study.
Monday, October 30, 2006
How our toddler offered thoughts of an after-life
Let me initially give a little background to a strange experience. My wife's parents died aged in their 50s and it was many years before any of our three children were born. So my own parents were the only grandparents our kids knew. My Dad died suddenly when the girls were each aged 6 years, 3 years and 7 months old. The older two knew their grandad. It saddened them when he died and they then avoided talking about him to anyone. Our youngest, Shona, was far too young to have any recollections of him. She grew up just knowing her granny, who lived until Shona was almost 12. Hence the word Grandad and the concept of what it meant were unknown to her when she was a toddler.
Shona learned to talk very early, she could make sense and have reasonably good conversations by about the age of two years old. One Saturday afternoon, a month before Shona's 2nd birthday, we were all in the kitchen about to eat a meal. We were talking about what might be on the telly and Shona was sitting at the kitchen table just generally humming to herself.
Quite out of context to anything we had been discussing, Shona said...
"Grandad loves me."
I was sitting opposite Shona and it seemed odd to me for her to use that name. She was never even taught such a word at her age as there was no such person in her life.
"You mean Granny loves you", I corrected.
"No, no, Grandad loves me".
This was becoming a little intriguing. I thought I better test her further.
"Is Grandad a man or a woman?" Maybe she was getting the terms granny/grandad mixed up and really meant her granny.
"A man".
Mmmh. I had to think a bit on this and my wife was also now showing some interest. The older two girls also thought it strange for her to mention a grandad.
I wondered if she really did mean one of her actual deceased grandads and if so, which one.
"Where did you see Grandad?" I asked.
"In Granny's house".
"You sure you don't mean you just saw Granny?"
"No, Grandad".
"Where in Granny's house did you see him?"
"Not Granny room, other room."
There followed a tricky bit of conversation to extract from a toddler as to what room she meant. It turned out she meant the front downstairs room of my Mum's house. It was a sitting room but never used much. My Dad had tended to use this room to sit in sometimes as it was cooler for him - my mother liked extra heat.
On digesting this later something else clicked in my mind. It was a minor incident a few weeks earlier when we were over in my Mum's house visiting. Shona had been walking around and had wandered into the front room. When she returned to us in the back room she came over to my wife and I and said gently...
"There's a man in the other room".
My wife and I looked at each other and at my Mum. We knew it couldn't be true what Shona said and shrugged her off. However she repeated that there was a man, so I reluctantly got up from my seat and brought her into the front room.
"See Shona, no man here", I said.
Shona didn't say anything further and that was the end of that. However this little incident came back in my mind after Shona explained to us that this was the room where grandad talked to her.
Still in our own kitchen I asked Shona another question...
"Is Grandad a big man or a small man?"
"A big man".
By Dad was big and heavy for sure, but then I thought that to a toddler every man is big I suppose.
My wife then asked Shona...
"Is grandad happy?"
"Yes. He said he's on his holidays".
Following a few seconds reflection on this answer the hair almost stood up on my head. It seemed to me exactly how a person might explain a concept of Heaven to a small toddler. I tried to subdue my brain from racing away from remaining balanced and objective. But we had never taught her any religion or any such concepts whatsoever at her age.
It was difficult to get much more detail from Shona due to her limited communications skills. She did however give a vague impression that grandad played with her...
"He's like a doggy" she smiled and did little doggy panting sounds with her tongue out to imitate him. At first this didn't make much sense. On further reflection though I do recall my Dad getting on his hands and knees on the floor playing with children when he was a younger man, usually pretending to be a horse actually. He used to give me horse rides on his back when I was a small child.
Over the following days I managed to learn a bit more from Shona. I decided to try a careful experiment. There was no photo of my Dad on display in our house or indeed my Mums, so I knew there was no way on Earth she should relate a photo of my Dad to being her grandad. I reiterate that my Dad died when Shona was a baby of 7 months old, she was now almost 2 years old. Nobody but myself and my wife had access to photo albums with my Dad's picture. I sat on the floor with Shona and opened a photo album in which I knew that in about the 5th page there was a photo of my Dad. I opened each page slowly and just let her talk about who she recognised. There were mainly pictures of myself, my wife and the kids. She smiled and knew each person in her family and pointed them out by name. When I opened the page which contained a photo of my Dad I deliberately said nothing. Shona didn't hesitate though...
"There's grandad", she pointed with glee.
My heart missed a beat, I was floored. It seemed impossible. I stake my life that none of us had ever discussed or shown photos of my Dad to Shona. I later quizzed the other girls separately and I'm quite certain they never discussed nor had access to a photo of grandad to show her. They didn't even talk about grandad to us and they only did baby talk to Shona to make her laugh.
After Shona had recognised my Dad in the photo I felt reluctantly like asking her another question. I was reluctant for a few reasons - firstly it was a selfish question, coming from me being an only child perhaps, and also because I didn't expect her to be able to answer it. After a reflective pause I found I couldn't let it pass and I asked Shona if grandad had ever mentioned myself to her. What happened next from a child of this age was strange, both in what she said and how she said it.
Shona turned her head up from the photo album to me and looked me in the eyes with a purpose which surprised me.
"Grandad said he will mind you."
This was rather overwhelming as you can imagine.
As the weeks and months passed Shona's memory of these incidents faded and she reverted to not knowing who grandad was. The phase had lasted maybe 2 weeks.
I've little idea how to explain any of this logically. Was she reading our own minds, was she psychic? If you ask Shona today aged 17, she has no memory of grandad, except what we told her she had said.
My views on potential afterlife tend to be rather openminded, coloured by what I know of matter and energy and the physical universe. I could accept that there is no afterlife if it happens to be true, but I also realise that there are many things that we cannot yet grasp. It's unwise to be closed minded in this area. I can't explain how Shona came to communicate to us as she did for a few short weeks as a toddler. But any time I'm feeling that death is final, I think of what Shona had told us fifteen years ago. How strange that a tiny child still in nappies could offer us such depth of thought and even hope.
Shona learned to talk very early, she could make sense and have reasonably good conversations by about the age of two years old. One Saturday afternoon, a month before Shona's 2nd birthday, we were all in the kitchen about to eat a meal. We were talking about what might be on the telly and Shona was sitting at the kitchen table just generally humming to herself.
Quite out of context to anything we had been discussing, Shona said...
"Grandad loves me."
I was sitting opposite Shona and it seemed odd to me for her to use that name. She was never even taught such a word at her age as there was no such person in her life.
"You mean Granny loves you", I corrected.
"No, no, Grandad loves me".
This was becoming a little intriguing. I thought I better test her further.
"Is Grandad a man or a woman?" Maybe she was getting the terms granny/grandad mixed up and really meant her granny.
"A man".
Mmmh. I had to think a bit on this and my wife was also now showing some interest. The older two girls also thought it strange for her to mention a grandad.
I wondered if she really did mean one of her actual deceased grandads and if so, which one.
"Where did you see Grandad?" I asked.
"In Granny's house".
"You sure you don't mean you just saw Granny?"
"No, Grandad".
"Where in Granny's house did you see him?"
"Not Granny room, other room."
There followed a tricky bit of conversation to extract from a toddler as to what room she meant. It turned out she meant the front downstairs room of my Mum's house. It was a sitting room but never used much. My Dad had tended to use this room to sit in sometimes as it was cooler for him - my mother liked extra heat.
On digesting this later something else clicked in my mind. It was a minor incident a few weeks earlier when we were over in my Mum's house visiting. Shona had been walking around and had wandered into the front room. When she returned to us in the back room she came over to my wife and I and said gently...
"There's a man in the other room".
My wife and I looked at each other and at my Mum. We knew it couldn't be true what Shona said and shrugged her off. However she repeated that there was a man, so I reluctantly got up from my seat and brought her into the front room.
"See Shona, no man here", I said.
Shona didn't say anything further and that was the end of that. However this little incident came back in my mind after Shona explained to us that this was the room where grandad talked to her.
Still in our own kitchen I asked Shona another question...
"Is Grandad a big man or a small man?"
"A big man".
By Dad was big and heavy for sure, but then I thought that to a toddler every man is big I suppose.
My wife then asked Shona...
"Is grandad happy?"
"Yes. He said he's on his holidays".
Following a few seconds reflection on this answer the hair almost stood up on my head. It seemed to me exactly how a person might explain a concept of Heaven to a small toddler. I tried to subdue my brain from racing away from remaining balanced and objective. But we had never taught her any religion or any such concepts whatsoever at her age.
It was difficult to get much more detail from Shona due to her limited communications skills. She did however give a vague impression that grandad played with her...
"He's like a doggy" she smiled and did little doggy panting sounds with her tongue out to imitate him. At first this didn't make much sense. On further reflection though I do recall my Dad getting on his hands and knees on the floor playing with children when he was a younger man, usually pretending to be a horse actually. He used to give me horse rides on his back when I was a small child.
Over the following days I managed to learn a bit more from Shona. I decided to try a careful experiment. There was no photo of my Dad on display in our house or indeed my Mums, so I knew there was no way on Earth she should relate a photo of my Dad to being her grandad. I reiterate that my Dad died when Shona was a baby of 7 months old, she was now almost 2 years old. Nobody but myself and my wife had access to photo albums with my Dad's picture. I sat on the floor with Shona and opened a photo album in which I knew that in about the 5th page there was a photo of my Dad. I opened each page slowly and just let her talk about who she recognised. There were mainly pictures of myself, my wife and the kids. She smiled and knew each person in her family and pointed them out by name. When I opened the page which contained a photo of my Dad I deliberately said nothing. Shona didn't hesitate though...
"There's grandad", she pointed with glee.
My heart missed a beat, I was floored. It seemed impossible. I stake my life that none of us had ever discussed or shown photos of my Dad to Shona. I later quizzed the other girls separately and I'm quite certain they never discussed nor had access to a photo of grandad to show her. They didn't even talk about grandad to us and they only did baby talk to Shona to make her laugh.
After Shona had recognised my Dad in the photo I felt reluctantly like asking her another question. I was reluctant for a few reasons - firstly it was a selfish question, coming from me being an only child perhaps, and also because I didn't expect her to be able to answer it. After a reflective pause I found I couldn't let it pass and I asked Shona if grandad had ever mentioned myself to her. What happened next from a child of this age was strange, both in what she said and how she said it.
Shona turned her head up from the photo album to me and looked me in the eyes with a purpose which surprised me.
"Grandad said he will mind you."
This was rather overwhelming as you can imagine.
As the weeks and months passed Shona's memory of these incidents faded and she reverted to not knowing who grandad was. The phase had lasted maybe 2 weeks.
I've little idea how to explain any of this logically. Was she reading our own minds, was she psychic? If you ask Shona today aged 17, she has no memory of grandad, except what we told her she had said.
My views on potential afterlife tend to be rather openminded, coloured by what I know of matter and energy and the physical universe. I could accept that there is no afterlife if it happens to be true, but I also realise that there are many things that we cannot yet grasp. It's unwise to be closed minded in this area. I can't explain how Shona came to communicate to us as she did for a few short weeks as a toddler. But any time I'm feeling that death is final, I think of what Shona had told us fifteen years ago. How strange that a tiny child still in nappies could offer us such depth of thought and even hope.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Bertie-Gate and latest opinion polls
I wrote about Bertie-Gate earlier this month before the latest opinion polls which now show major increase in support for Fianna Fail.
The dichotomy contained in the recent public opinion poll results is that people thought Bertie was wrong BUT that he shouldn't resign and also support for Fianna Fail surged and support for opposition declined. Many columnists (including Irish Times editorial) are interpreting this as that the people just don't care about dodgy dealings in politics. I believe this view is close to being an insult to the people.
A logical interpretation on the poll finding that Bertie was wrong but shouldn't resign is that the people feel the Opposition chose too strong an attack on a relatively modest bad practise. Also the leek was not allowed and the Tribunal was the right place to work on this. The people believe Bertie was wrong but I think many believe the level of attack and its method was disproportionate to the deed and it backfired really badly. I think Bertie's relatively modest lifestyle and the circumstances also helped reduce his sins to a venial level. If the same level of intensity of attack was directed at something more serious it might have helped the Opposition. Instead they looked like whingers trying to hurt a man whose private financial divorce settlements were made public in a completely wrong way. The people disliked their intense use of valuable Dáil time on this matter and in my opinion punished the Opposition for it in the opinion polls.
The dichotomy contained in the recent public opinion poll results is that people thought Bertie was wrong BUT that he shouldn't resign and also support for Fianna Fail surged and support for opposition declined. Many columnists (including Irish Times editorial) are interpreting this as that the people just don't care about dodgy dealings in politics. I believe this view is close to being an insult to the people.
A logical interpretation on the poll finding that Bertie was wrong but shouldn't resign is that the people feel the Opposition chose too strong an attack on a relatively modest bad practise. Also the leek was not allowed and the Tribunal was the right place to work on this. The people believe Bertie was wrong but I think many believe the level of attack and its method was disproportionate to the deed and it backfired really badly. I think Bertie's relatively modest lifestyle and the circumstances also helped reduce his sins to a venial level. If the same level of intensity of attack was directed at something more serious it might have helped the Opposition. Instead they looked like whingers trying to hurt a man whose private financial divorce settlements were made public in a completely wrong way. The people disliked their intense use of valuable Dáil time on this matter and in my opinion punished the Opposition for it in the opinion polls.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
The Good Teacher
In my last few years of primary school in Dublin we had a most inspiring young teacher. It's worth naming him because I'm only going to say good things. He was Seán P. Ó Hógain, from Limerick I recall, and I'd guess he might today be aged in his sixties.
Seán P was first introduced to the class by the school Headmaster who also treated Seán P to a lengthy dissertation on how our class had many temporary teachers in the last year and how we were way behind in what needed to be covered etc. When the Headmaster departed there followed our usual nervous silence with a new teacher in the room. Would he be tough, loud, threatening? Our bodies were rigid and our senses were on stalks like small animals studying a larger potential predator.
But something strange started to emerge. Seán P. was talking to us as if we were friends, even threw in some humour. It was not childish though, it was as if he respected us as almost young adults. We didn't quite know how to react, was it a trick, would he suddenly turn nasty? This was 1966, as 11 year old lads we were not used to teacher's being nice. Our reaction to a teacher being soft would be to go a bit out of control, be unruly. But this was different. He was being very direct with us, probing us, challenging us, it demanded thought. Seán P seemed to be able to think a bit like us. But he also turned out to be radically better at teaching than anyone we had before.
Seán P helped the class appreciate complex parts of Shakespeare's plays such as Julius Caesar, Hamlet, big poems like Tennyson's Ulysses, complex literature etc. Lord of the Flies was a book he read to us in class and encouraged us all to read it, which we did. Everyone I spoke to could relate to it and think deeper - it was based on school boys our own age. He also did a brilliant analysis of the "Friends, Romans, Countrymen..." speech in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar and how Mark Anthony gradually aroused the crowd to the opposite view.
It was all light years off the curriculum stuff and I recall once a school inspector admonishing Seán P in the class for covering material which was far too difficult for our age group. But our teacher had a great bond with the class and patiently deciphered complex material to help us both understand and - more importantly - enjoy it.
As his name suggests, Seán P also had a strong interest in the Irish language. He tried to make Irish cool I suppose - in the way TG4 are doing today. It didn't fully work for me, I was always very cosmopolitan and felt Irish was a drag. However I did learn Irish better via Seán P. He also went through a phase of teaching us history through Irish. Very democratically, he actually got the class to vote on this - amazingly we agreed, a sign of his credibility in class. After about 6 months of learning history though Irish he gave up on it as we were not grasping history enough through our limited powers in Irish language. But he was never afraid of trying new ideas.
A notable feature of Seán P was his sense of humour. He was so funny at times. He could help you remember anything by seeing the funny side of it. Even various Irish battles in the middle ages he could give a wickedly funny insight into how the factions might be thinking.
In religion Seán P covered a famous book called "God is for real, man". It was a book published to help modern American inner city dudes understand the message of Christianity. It was hilarious - especially in the way Seán P amplified it - but we remembered every single parable!
I remember a sobering debate Seán P brought up regarding proof for God existing. He claimed to our mild shock at the time that there was no proof at all. This created an interesting tail-wagging-the-dog spectacle of many in the class putting together arguments to prove to the teacher that God did exist. He was playing devils advocate so well that he had everyone's active attention. Seán P was able refute all of our feeble attempts at proof. He ended it all by saying that he believed in God himself but that we should realise it's not provable. In those times if the headmaster or the priests had been fully aware of this debate he would have been in trouble.
Other things Seán P covered were appreciation of modern art, encouraging us at stamp collecting, science experiments in class etc. It was stuff never covered in primary school in the 1960s, he was way before his time.
Seán P helped me in many ways. He taught me to think for myself and question things. He gave me an initial appreciation of the arts and literature which I never lost in spite of moving in a more science and technology career direction (which he also helped with through his good handling of science). Seán P. was also the teacher who got our class going on learning Chess - see my blog of same - and I've described how that had both a direct and indirect groundbreaking affect on me.
If Seán P is still on the planet - a big thanks from me - and I'm sure I speak for the entire class, we all liked him!
Seán P was first introduced to the class by the school Headmaster who also treated Seán P to a lengthy dissertation on how our class had many temporary teachers in the last year and how we were way behind in what needed to be covered etc. When the Headmaster departed there followed our usual nervous silence with a new teacher in the room. Would he be tough, loud, threatening? Our bodies were rigid and our senses were on stalks like small animals studying a larger potential predator.
But something strange started to emerge. Seán P. was talking to us as if we were friends, even threw in some humour. It was not childish though, it was as if he respected us as almost young adults. We didn't quite know how to react, was it a trick, would he suddenly turn nasty? This was 1966, as 11 year old lads we were not used to teacher's being nice. Our reaction to a teacher being soft would be to go a bit out of control, be unruly. But this was different. He was being very direct with us, probing us, challenging us, it demanded thought. Seán P seemed to be able to think a bit like us. But he also turned out to be radically better at teaching than anyone we had before.
Seán P helped the class appreciate complex parts of Shakespeare's plays such as Julius Caesar, Hamlet, big poems like Tennyson's Ulysses, complex literature etc. Lord of the Flies was a book he read to us in class and encouraged us all to read it, which we did. Everyone I spoke to could relate to it and think deeper - it was based on school boys our own age. He also did a brilliant analysis of the "Friends, Romans, Countrymen..." speech in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar and how Mark Anthony gradually aroused the crowd to the opposite view.
It was all light years off the curriculum stuff and I recall once a school inspector admonishing Seán P in the class for covering material which was far too difficult for our age group. But our teacher had a great bond with the class and patiently deciphered complex material to help us both understand and - more importantly - enjoy it.
As his name suggests, Seán P also had a strong interest in the Irish language. He tried to make Irish cool I suppose - in the way TG4 are doing today. It didn't fully work for me, I was always very cosmopolitan and felt Irish was a drag. However I did learn Irish better via Seán P. He also went through a phase of teaching us history through Irish. Very democratically, he actually got the class to vote on this - amazingly we agreed, a sign of his credibility in class. After about 6 months of learning history though Irish he gave up on it as we were not grasping history enough through our limited powers in Irish language. But he was never afraid of trying new ideas.
A notable feature of Seán P was his sense of humour. He was so funny at times. He could help you remember anything by seeing the funny side of it. Even various Irish battles in the middle ages he could give a wickedly funny insight into how the factions might be thinking.
In religion Seán P covered a famous book called "God is for real, man". It was a book published to help modern American inner city dudes understand the message of Christianity. It was hilarious - especially in the way Seán P amplified it - but we remembered every single parable!
I remember a sobering debate Seán P brought up regarding proof for God existing. He claimed to our mild shock at the time that there was no proof at all. This created an interesting tail-wagging-the-dog spectacle of many in the class putting together arguments to prove to the teacher that God did exist. He was playing devils advocate so well that he had everyone's active attention. Seán P was able refute all of our feeble attempts at proof. He ended it all by saying that he believed in God himself but that we should realise it's not provable. In those times if the headmaster or the priests had been fully aware of this debate he would have been in trouble.
Other things Seán P covered were appreciation of modern art, encouraging us at stamp collecting, science experiments in class etc. It was stuff never covered in primary school in the 1960s, he was way before his time.
Seán P helped me in many ways. He taught me to think for myself and question things. He gave me an initial appreciation of the arts and literature which I never lost in spite of moving in a more science and technology career direction (which he also helped with through his good handling of science). Seán P. was also the teacher who got our class going on learning Chess - see my blog of same - and I've described how that had both a direct and indirect groundbreaking affect on me.
If Seán P is still on the planet - a big thanks from me - and I'm sure I speak for the entire class, we all liked him!
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Bertie-Gate
It's a messy spectacle for sure and the affair is being made to look embarrassing for Ireland and for Bertie.
In the past there have been so many genuinely evil wrongdoings and corruptions by the likes of Haughey and others. Hence many are mentally programmed to equating Bertie's situation to the same level. Although perhaps wrong by today's ethics, Bertie's aired mistakes are lightweight in comparison. He lives very humbly compared to Haughey's extravaganza. The donations/loans were from the time of his separation and it seems blatantly clear that friends and others were just trying to help him out in his separation difficulties. Marital separation is awful and also not an easy time financially for people of even respectable income. We agree it was ill advised but everyone tries to be tax efficient and clinically Bertie didn't break any law. On a scale of 1-10 of sharp practice and ethics it registers as a 2. I know we want our leaders to be spotless and to have a crystal clear vision of how future generations will view past practices, but I'm afraid there is no such person.
The main ugliness in my opinion has been the disrespect and sidestepping of the Tribunal as the correct place for analysis of Bertie's payment transactions. Bertie has been accomodating in handling the unallowed leaks in a public fashion - but in respect to his own privacy and the Tribunal he has been trying to stick to the most summary facts. This of course leads on to the media and the Opposition probing further and acting like a kangaroo court in public. This is no way to handle matters and is an innefficient and embarrasing mess as a result. It's highly unfair to the Taoiseach and not a scientific way to get answers. His willingness to make comments in public while attending functions is well intended but ill advised for proper clarity. A case of damned if you do and damned if you don't.
In any event one could argue that Bertie has now had a thorough personal investigation of his past very publicly via the media. His bill of health is probably better that the majority in political life. I wonder how many others would come up this well? Bertie has lost some of his teflon image but I believe he is still up there with the best there is in politics - and latest opinion polls still show him in a good light.
In the past there have been so many genuinely evil wrongdoings and corruptions by the likes of Haughey and others. Hence many are mentally programmed to equating Bertie's situation to the same level. Although perhaps wrong by today's ethics, Bertie's aired mistakes are lightweight in comparison. He lives very humbly compared to Haughey's extravaganza. The donations/loans were from the time of his separation and it seems blatantly clear that friends and others were just trying to help him out in his separation difficulties. Marital separation is awful and also not an easy time financially for people of even respectable income. We agree it was ill advised but everyone tries to be tax efficient and clinically Bertie didn't break any law. On a scale of 1-10 of sharp practice and ethics it registers as a 2. I know we want our leaders to be spotless and to have a crystal clear vision of how future generations will view past practices, but I'm afraid there is no such person.
The main ugliness in my opinion has been the disrespect and sidestepping of the Tribunal as the correct place for analysis of Bertie's payment transactions. Bertie has been accomodating in handling the unallowed leaks in a public fashion - but in respect to his own privacy and the Tribunal he has been trying to stick to the most summary facts. This of course leads on to the media and the Opposition probing further and acting like a kangaroo court in public. This is no way to handle matters and is an innefficient and embarrasing mess as a result. It's highly unfair to the Taoiseach and not a scientific way to get answers. His willingness to make comments in public while attending functions is well intended but ill advised for proper clarity. A case of damned if you do and damned if you don't.
In any event one could argue that Bertie has now had a thorough personal investigation of his past very publicly via the media. His bill of health is probably better that the majority in political life. I wonder how many others would come up this well? Bertie has lost some of his teflon image but I believe he is still up there with the best there is in politics - and latest opinion polls still show him in a good light.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Michael McDowell - the leader to make the PDs grow.
I'm gonna stick my neck out an make a prediction. I've a feeling that the PDs are going to become a bigger and more successful party under McDowell. I'm not saying that McDowell is brilliant in every way, he has flaws, but I do think he is good leadership material. He has plenty of fresh ideas and energy and is not afraid to go for it. There's always risks with an enfant terrible but I think he has enough skills and intelligence to pull off success. Winning ugly at times no doubt!
The PDs should always have been destined to make a big impact. They made a promising start in the mid 1980s. I know they were a reactionary to the Dessie versus Charlie fallout which filled a gap but they then lost their momentum eventually. I think Mary Harney was and is a great worker who gets things done. Excellent in Environment (smog free Dublin!) and Industry, doing her best in Health (tough job). Also a great people person. I'm not convinced she was an expansion type leader for the PDs. But the good thing is that the PDs under Harney did manage to punch way above their weight. Considering their size they are doing very well.
McDowell has the potential to bring the PDs to another level. The neat thing about a small party is flexibility and freshness. McDowell is the leader who can make or break them. I'm betting on the former.
The PDs should always have been destined to make a big impact. They made a promising start in the mid 1980s. I know they were a reactionary to the Dessie versus Charlie fallout which filled a gap but they then lost their momentum eventually. I think Mary Harney was and is a great worker who gets things done. Excellent in Environment (smog free Dublin!) and Industry, doing her best in Health (tough job). Also a great people person. I'm not convinced she was an expansion type leader for the PDs. But the good thing is that the PDs under Harney did manage to punch way above their weight. Considering their size they are doing very well.
McDowell has the potential to bring the PDs to another level. The neat thing about a small party is flexibility and freshness. McDowell is the leader who can make or break them. I'm betting on the former.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
High Definition TV - Wow!
I'm known by family and friends to get fun from latest technical breakthroughs in gadgets etc.
One of the reasons my blog has been quiet in the last few weeks is because I got our TV and Sky upgraded to include High Definition content. The Wow factor is huge.
For those who haven't heard of it or not seen a demo, High Definition TV (HDTV) shows four times finer detail than standard TV. Resolution, colour and contrast are all excellent on big plasma or LCD screens. I've been watching so many National Geographic and Discovery channel documentaries - landscape filming in Africa, underwater coral reef stuff etc would take you breath away. Movies and sport are all amazing also in HD. It has to be the biggest breakthrough in TV since colour.
Even though Sky is expensive enough, I have to give them credit for launching HDTV broadcasts. It is superb. Also the Sky+ facility of recording programmes onto the satellite box hard disk is fantastic - easy to use, can record two channels at once, is a perfect digital recording like the original broadcast and it has a huge storage capacity - we must have at least 20 movies and documentaries stored on the disk -many in high definition.
One word of advise if any of you are considering HDTV. With normal TV it is advised that you view from no more than 5 times the screen diagonal size - e.g. is you are viewing from 10 feet away then a 24 inch screen is about right. In the case of HDTV in order to see the extra fine detail you need to be a bit less than 3 times the diagonal size from the TV. Hence you tend to need a somewhat larger screen that you might realise. So if you are trying to justify the huge TV to your spouse - ya need to throw plenty of physics like this at them - it's vital! If that doesn't work then you (reluctantly!) sit much nearer to a smaller TV. The latter sucks!
One of the reasons my blog has been quiet in the last few weeks is because I got our TV and Sky upgraded to include High Definition content. The Wow factor is huge.
For those who haven't heard of it or not seen a demo, High Definition TV (HDTV) shows four times finer detail than standard TV. Resolution, colour and contrast are all excellent on big plasma or LCD screens. I've been watching so many National Geographic and Discovery channel documentaries - landscape filming in Africa, underwater coral reef stuff etc would take you breath away. Movies and sport are all amazing also in HD. It has to be the biggest breakthrough in TV since colour.
Even though Sky is expensive enough, I have to give them credit for launching HDTV broadcasts. It is superb. Also the Sky+ facility of recording programmes onto the satellite box hard disk is fantastic - easy to use, can record two channels at once, is a perfect digital recording like the original broadcast and it has a huge storage capacity - we must have at least 20 movies and documentaries stored on the disk -many in high definition.
One word of advise if any of you are considering HDTV. With normal TV it is advised that you view from no more than 5 times the screen diagonal size - e.g. is you are viewing from 10 feet away then a 24 inch screen is about right. In the case of HDTV in order to see the extra fine detail you need to be a bit less than 3 times the diagonal size from the TV. Hence you tend to need a somewhat larger screen that you might realise. So if you are trying to justify the huge TV to your spouse - ya need to throw plenty of physics like this at them - it's vital! If that doesn't work then you (reluctantly!) sit much nearer to a smaller TV. The latter sucks!
Thursday, August 17, 2006
I recommend Sorrento!
What a great holiday spousey and I had together - it befitted our 25th wedding anniversary this month. Marvelous place Sorrento, Italy. Our hotel was high up on a cliffside with a panoramic view of Sorrento, the Bay of Naples, Mt. Vesuvius etc. It truly must be one of the best views in the World.
We had wonderful 5-star waiter service evening meals on the great hotel rooftop restaurant watching the sunset over the stunning Bay of Naples, our ears serenaded with a singer gently performing lovely Italian songs inc. Sancta Lucia etc. as our palates and senses were pampered by exquisite food and glasses of the beautiful local wine Lacryma Christi del Vesuvio *. The nearest it gets to Heaven on Earth!
* Aside - this wine name translates as "The Tears of Christ" and amusingly is so named from Christ's emotions during his ascension into heaven at seeing the beauty of the Bay of Naples!
We had a guided tour of nearby Pompeii and Mt. Vesuvius. What struck me about Pompeii was how large it is and the extent of excavation. It really is a city in scale. Most interesting. They have actually only uncovered 80% of the place - plenty more for future archaeologists.
Also visited the famous Isle of Capri and had boat tour around it. It's a spectacular island visually with high cliffs and peaks.
Best holiday spousey and I have had in years.
We had wonderful 5-star waiter service evening meals on the great hotel rooftop restaurant watching the sunset over the stunning Bay of Naples, our ears serenaded with a singer gently performing lovely Italian songs inc. Sancta Lucia etc. as our palates and senses were pampered by exquisite food and glasses of the beautiful local wine Lacryma Christi del Vesuvio *. The nearest it gets to Heaven on Earth!
* Aside - this wine name translates as "The Tears of Christ" and amusingly is so named from Christ's emotions during his ascension into heaven at seeing the beauty of the Bay of Naples!
We had a guided tour of nearby Pompeii and Mt. Vesuvius. What struck me about Pompeii was how large it is and the extent of excavation. It really is a city in scale. Most interesting. They have actually only uncovered 80% of the place - plenty more for future archaeologists.
Also visited the famous Isle of Capri and had boat tour around it. It's a spectacular island visually with high cliffs and peaks.
Best holiday spousey and I have had in years.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Italia!
Okay leaving for the airport in an hour, 1 week holiday in Sorrento, Italy, just spousy and I, excellent! It has been said that my local area of Killiney Bay and Hill, Vico Road, Sorrento Terrace area, Dalkey Island etc. is a bit like the Italian Bay of Naples/Sorrento area - hence the various copied names. I have my doubts but we'll soon find out.
Anyway, blog free until about 11th Aug.
Ciao!
Anyway, blog free until about 11th Aug.
Ciao!
Monday, July 31, 2006
You speak English?
The regional variations of accents and pronouncing of words can be both interesting and entertaining.
Here in Ireland notice how the Belfast accent is very flat and bassy. Further west in Derry it's higher pitched and when you get to West Donegal it's often like a high pitched scream. It's as if people's voices are increasingly competing with the screech of winds as you approach the Altantic seaboard!
My mother had a strong Derry accent and in Dublin when I was small our neighbouring family's parents had strong Cork accents. They had plenty of challenges in the early years trying to communicate with each other!
Regional accents come out stronger the more excitable or passionate the conversation becomes. Once in Tralee, Kerry I had occasion to be sitting beside two local businessmen. They were having a very intense talk about some serious matter. I'm convinced that they were talking in English, but their passion, speed of delivery and Kerry accents were so strong that I did not have a clue what they were saying. I could make out the odd "yerra" and "jaysus" but it was truly the only sustained time I can recall where I couldn't understand people in my own country! I think a degree of local understanding and body language was also kicking in as I've normally no problem understanding the Kerry accent.
The Dublin accent has it's own variations. In extreme cases the unique pronunciations of words get very ingrained. Recently I was reading a work related e-mail from a woman I had spoken to earlier that day. One sentence included something like "....air services to air customer". It puzzled me for a minute. Then I tried to imagine her speaking the sentence out loud and it suddenly made sense. Her strong Dublin accent pronouncing of "our" as "air" was so ingrained that she was even spelling it that way!
You expect TV news people to be accurate and neutral at pronouncing things, but there are many exceptions - including a Dublin TV reporter who says keeps saying "Are T E" for RTE. Then there are the other variations within Dublin - e.g. the newsreader accent would pronounce Lorry as Laurie and the stronger accent would say Lurry.
There are great English pronunciation and accent variations throughout Ireland, around the UK and all over USA and eleswhere. Once a gym coach was helping me and ran some tests and discussed ranges of exercises and diet etc. He kept mentioning how certain things would help me with my tinis. I was getting increasingly nervous as tinis sounded like some medical condition he thought I had. I then swallowed and bravely consulted him on what tinis was. Turned out it was just tennis with his Australian accent!
Americans often love their Irish roots but its fun watching them trying to cope with Irish words and names. I visited a supplier in Minneapolis some years ago. I brought a present of a traditional Irish doll for the small daughter of my regular contact. The packaging box named the doll as RóisÃn. I was back with the supplier 5 years later and the guy raved about how much his daughter still loved the Irish doll. For the past 5 years she had been calling the doll Rose-in (e.g. there is a rose in the garden). There was shock and horror on his face when I laughed and told him the correct pronunciation was "Rosheen". Too late for the child, it was Rose-in forever.
Speaking of Americans, I can't resist one last quick story, not too related to accents. Not long ago my sister-in-law brought some American friends to the 14th century Bunratty Castle, which is beside the motorway linking Limerick and Shannon. One of the American ladies said on exiting - "Gee, it's a lovely castle, but why did they build it so close to the freeway?" I suppose to some Americans Billy the Kid is their idea of ancient history!
Glad to hear any tales or views others have on accents and pronunciations.
Here in Ireland notice how the Belfast accent is very flat and bassy. Further west in Derry it's higher pitched and when you get to West Donegal it's often like a high pitched scream. It's as if people's voices are increasingly competing with the screech of winds as you approach the Altantic seaboard!
My mother had a strong Derry accent and in Dublin when I was small our neighbouring family's parents had strong Cork accents. They had plenty of challenges in the early years trying to communicate with each other!
Regional accents come out stronger the more excitable or passionate the conversation becomes. Once in Tralee, Kerry I had occasion to be sitting beside two local businessmen. They were having a very intense talk about some serious matter. I'm convinced that they were talking in English, but their passion, speed of delivery and Kerry accents were so strong that I did not have a clue what they were saying. I could make out the odd "yerra" and "jaysus" but it was truly the only sustained time I can recall where I couldn't understand people in my own country! I think a degree of local understanding and body language was also kicking in as I've normally no problem understanding the Kerry accent.
The Dublin accent has it's own variations. In extreme cases the unique pronunciations of words get very ingrained. Recently I was reading a work related e-mail from a woman I had spoken to earlier that day. One sentence included something like "....air services to air customer". It puzzled me for a minute. Then I tried to imagine her speaking the sentence out loud and it suddenly made sense. Her strong Dublin accent pronouncing of "our" as "air" was so ingrained that she was even spelling it that way!
You expect TV news people to be accurate and neutral at pronouncing things, but there are many exceptions - including a Dublin TV reporter who says keeps saying "Are T E" for RTE. Then there are the other variations within Dublin - e.g. the newsreader accent would pronounce Lorry as Laurie and the stronger accent would say Lurry.
There are great English pronunciation and accent variations throughout Ireland, around the UK and all over USA and eleswhere. Once a gym coach was helping me and ran some tests and discussed ranges of exercises and diet etc. He kept mentioning how certain things would help me with my tinis. I was getting increasingly nervous as tinis sounded like some medical condition he thought I had. I then swallowed and bravely consulted him on what tinis was. Turned out it was just tennis with his Australian accent!
Americans often love their Irish roots but its fun watching them trying to cope with Irish words and names. I visited a supplier in Minneapolis some years ago. I brought a present of a traditional Irish doll for the small daughter of my regular contact. The packaging box named the doll as RóisÃn. I was back with the supplier 5 years later and the guy raved about how much his daughter still loved the Irish doll. For the past 5 years she had been calling the doll Rose-in (e.g. there is a rose in the garden). There was shock and horror on his face when I laughed and told him the correct pronunciation was "Rosheen". Too late for the child, it was Rose-in forever.
Speaking of Americans, I can't resist one last quick story, not too related to accents. Not long ago my sister-in-law brought some American friends to the 14th century Bunratty Castle, which is beside the motorway linking Limerick and Shannon. One of the American ladies said on exiting - "Gee, it's a lovely castle, but why did they build it so close to the freeway?" I suppose to some Americans Billy the Kid is their idea of ancient history!
Glad to hear any tales or views others have on accents and pronunciations.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Mediterranean Dublin
Following on my last blog, this one really seems trivial. But weather is always a topic we Irish banter about.
It has been hot and rain free for so long now. Our lawn is yellow, but at least I don't have to cut it so often.
We've had painters just finished tackling the entire outside of our house including balconies, railings, downpipes, roofboards, porches, chimneys, perimeter walls, the lot. It was tough for them in the sun heat and the glare from the white masonry. The four of them suffered for two weeks working flat out as it's a very large house, and this included them baking in the 30C peaks of last week. We were keeping the plastic recycling bins full with the number of drinks they went through each day.
It's hard to work when it's hot. In the office I feel our productivities are down as even with fans running the rooms are at 30C. I'm using any excuse to get out in the airconned car to visit a customer! Yesterday I lingered for longer than normal in a customer site with welcoming airconned offices. The workers looked comfortable and fresher than folk in our place.
I'm not good in high heat. Worst was when we were on holiday in Turkey in 2001. Temperatures hit a dangerous 46C. Given that this is 9C warmer than our blood it was often medically essential to use outdoor cold showers fully clothed - we were bone dry again in 5 minutes! The apartments were not airconned. We hardly slept at night, the building was a furnace. The unfortunate hot and bothered cleaning lady who came in each day seemed to have only three words of English which formed a mantra she repeated to us daily - "Give me water!". When we came back to Dublin I nearly did a papal kissing of the ground and we didn't go on a sun holiday for another 3 years!
I like the temperate climate of Ireland. You can be safely busy outdoors any time. But 20C is more than enough. This 30C type heat from last week was weird. I'm not built for it. Spousey has a more Latin dark haired makeup and normally likes the heat and sun, but she is even complaining lately - especially on how warm the house gets indoors in evening. The masonry seems to soak the sun's heat and give it out at night into the house.
Well we've a holiday in Sorrento Italy coming up end of next week, so I guess more heat. But I'm looking forward to the break, it seems an interesting area to visit and the hotel will be airconned. And of course we are getting aclimatised in Mediterranean Dublin.
Postscript: Saturday 29 July: Aaagh... I jinxed the weather - it's pouring rain here today.
It has been hot and rain free for so long now. Our lawn is yellow, but at least I don't have to cut it so often.
We've had painters just finished tackling the entire outside of our house including balconies, railings, downpipes, roofboards, porches, chimneys, perimeter walls, the lot. It was tough for them in the sun heat and the glare from the white masonry. The four of them suffered for two weeks working flat out as it's a very large house, and this included them baking in the 30C peaks of last week. We were keeping the plastic recycling bins full with the number of drinks they went through each day.
It's hard to work when it's hot. In the office I feel our productivities are down as even with fans running the rooms are at 30C. I'm using any excuse to get out in the airconned car to visit a customer! Yesterday I lingered for longer than normal in a customer site with welcoming airconned offices. The workers looked comfortable and fresher than folk in our place.
I'm not good in high heat. Worst was when we were on holiday in Turkey in 2001. Temperatures hit a dangerous 46C. Given that this is 9C warmer than our blood it was often medically essential to use outdoor cold showers fully clothed - we were bone dry again in 5 minutes! The apartments were not airconned. We hardly slept at night, the building was a furnace. The unfortunate hot and bothered cleaning lady who came in each day seemed to have only three words of English which formed a mantra she repeated to us daily - "Give me water!". When we came back to Dublin I nearly did a papal kissing of the ground and we didn't go on a sun holiday for another 3 years!
I like the temperate climate of Ireland. You can be safely busy outdoors any time. But 20C is more than enough. This 30C type heat from last week was weird. I'm not built for it. Spousey has a more Latin dark haired makeup and normally likes the heat and sun, but she is even complaining lately - especially on how warm the house gets indoors in evening. The masonry seems to soak the sun's heat and give it out at night into the house.
Well we've a holiday in Sorrento Italy coming up end of next week, so I guess more heat. But I'm looking forward to the break, it seems an interesting area to visit and the hotel will be airconned. And of course we are getting aclimatised in Mediterranean Dublin.
Postscript: Saturday 29 July: Aaagh... I jinxed the weather - it's pouring rain here today.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Please be an organ donor
We've been shattered for the past week as a very close friend of my wife and I died suddenly from a stroke.
Our special friend for the last 33 years was wonderful, generous and kind to everyone in life and was the same even as she faced her own death. She was an organ donor and as she was conscious for awhile after the stroke in hospital she made sure her husband and family would carry out her wishes. When she became brain dead her body was kept alive on a ventilator for a further day so the best outcome for her organ usage would ensue. This also had the indirect benefit of allowing time for family and close friends to sit with her and say a final goodbye. We can now tell you from experience that although a very sad event, it is nice to sit and hold the warm hand of a loved one, whose heart still beats, whose chest still rises and falls as her lungs breathe air, whose normal face just looks like someone taking a nap.
Our friend also has a wonderful family. They allowed the transplant medics to ensure a good outcome and it's quite a quick process - a day or less. But there are now two people who have use of our friend's kidneys and another who carries her liver. So three people have been given life from our friends organs which were no use to her in death. This in turn releases vital hospital machines to help further people. It seems there are only a total of about 300 organ transplants per year in Ireland and our friend is responsible for three of these. She could even have given her lungs and heart also except there were no suitable recipients of the right size (she was a small lady). So you can see how one person simply carrying an organ donor card can make a big difference.
There is a lot of grief going around us all as our special friend was far too young to die (51, and indeed biologically and visibly was much younger). My thoughts are constantly with her husband who is my best pal and their four terrific children. But her generosity to others in death is truly of help in dealing with the pain and is a lasting legacy. To give multiple people life from your own death just by agreeing to be an organ donor has to make sense to everyone. But remember, it's equally important to have your family's co-operation, it's useless being an organ donor if your next of kin will not also give their consent when the vital time comes.
Please be an organ donor and encourage others to do it also. I've seen the benefits, it's truly remarkable. And lastly, make sure you enjoy life and all your loved ones, the unexpected can happen all to easily.
Written with kind permission of my best pal
Our special friend for the last 33 years was wonderful, generous and kind to everyone in life and was the same even as she faced her own death. She was an organ donor and as she was conscious for awhile after the stroke in hospital she made sure her husband and family would carry out her wishes. When she became brain dead her body was kept alive on a ventilator for a further day so the best outcome for her organ usage would ensue. This also had the indirect benefit of allowing time for family and close friends to sit with her and say a final goodbye. We can now tell you from experience that although a very sad event, it is nice to sit and hold the warm hand of a loved one, whose heart still beats, whose chest still rises and falls as her lungs breathe air, whose normal face just looks like someone taking a nap.
Our friend also has a wonderful family. They allowed the transplant medics to ensure a good outcome and it's quite a quick process - a day or less. But there are now two people who have use of our friend's kidneys and another who carries her liver. So three people have been given life from our friends organs which were no use to her in death. This in turn releases vital hospital machines to help further people. It seems there are only a total of about 300 organ transplants per year in Ireland and our friend is responsible for three of these. She could even have given her lungs and heart also except there were no suitable recipients of the right size (she was a small lady). So you can see how one person simply carrying an organ donor card can make a big difference.
There is a lot of grief going around us all as our special friend was far too young to die (51, and indeed biologically and visibly was much younger). My thoughts are constantly with her husband who is my best pal and their four terrific children. But her generosity to others in death is truly of help in dealing with the pain and is a lasting legacy. To give multiple people life from your own death just by agreeing to be an organ donor has to make sense to everyone. But remember, it's equally important to have your family's co-operation, it's useless being an organ donor if your next of kin will not also give their consent when the vital time comes.
Please be an organ donor and encourage others to do it also. I've seen the benefits, it's truly remarkable. And lastly, make sure you enjoy life and all your loved ones, the unexpected can happen all to easily.
Written with kind permission of my best pal
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
The legend of Uncle Tom and the Bubble Car
My uncle Tom (Dad's eldest brother) passed away last year. He was a colourful interesting character and I've fond memories of him when I was a kid. He was the only businessman of the family at the time and ran pubs in the UK and later a supermarket in Ireland. In 1963 he and his wife came back from England for the summer with an impressive big Ford Consul car. My tongue was hanging out looking at this fine big car. Very few around us had cars at all and certainly nothing this size. Here's a link showing the model of Consul which Uncle Tom had.
One sunny day Uncle Tom and his wife took my Mum, Dad and I out for a long drive in the lovely big white Consul. It felt like we were royalty. We went to Dublin Airport and stopped in the countryside at the end of the runway. We had a picnic and waited for planes to take off and land.
After all the excitement of witnessing two aircraft take-offs in an hour (how different today), we got back into the presidential car. However our feelings of grandeur soon evaporated. The car would not start! Much under-the-bonnet inspection ensued by my Dad and Tom but nothing could be done.
Uncle Tom was sensibly a member of the Automobile Association. So he could phone them for assistance of course. Eh, that's if he could get to a phone. The only mobile phones in 1963 were in science fiction movies. So Tom attempted to thumb a lift to get to a phonebox. Cars passed by for awhile but then we noticed a bubble car approaching. Ah, the wonderful and enigmatic little bubble car, explanation diversion needed....
The Bubble Car was a tiny 3 wheeled and 3 seater car made by Heinkel - and actually assembled in Dundalk. Here's a site with photos of bubble cars. You entered the car through a single door - the entire front of the car was a door! There were two cramped side-by side seats in the front and a very tight single seat in the back - due to the teardrop shape of the car it was very narrow at the rear. The contraption was powered by a tiny engine of less than 200cc at the very back which drove the single rear wheel. It was like a lawn mower on steroids. The Bubble Car was popular for about 10 years from 1955-1965 and then was stopped for a combination of being dangerous in an accident and also losing market share to sensible and much bigger compact cars like the still famous Austin Mini.
Uncle Tom scanned the bubble car approaching with trepidation. I could hear faint murmurs from him like " Sweet Jaysus, don't let it stop, please don't let it stop!"
The bubble car stopped.
The front of the tiny car unfolded and somewhat appropriately there emerged a small skinny weed of a man. Uncle Tom's large hulking frame was a huge contrast. The little man listened to Uncle Tom and offered him a lift.
Very gingerly big Tom attempted entry to the bubble car. We all sniggered. I recall wondering if Uncle Tom weighed more than the car. The skinny man then sat beside him and was squashed against the side of the car by Uncle Tom's shoulders. This was getting funnier by the second. The last straw was watching the car drive away leaning precariously over to the side where Tom sat. We were in tears laughing by now. My mother got a bad cramp in her stomach from laughter and had to be helped to sit down. Eventually when Tom returned my Dad had to physically pull him from the bubble car. More uncontrolled laughter.
The AA were soon on the scene, fixed the Ford Consul and Uncle Tom was then back at the helm of a car that fitted him well.
There are other stories I could tell about Uncle Tom which were fun. When my own kids were small they used to enjoy me telling some of the tales at bedtime. But the favourite request was always..."Dad, tell us the story again of Uncle Tom and the Bubble Car!"
One sunny day Uncle Tom and his wife took my Mum, Dad and I out for a long drive in the lovely big white Consul. It felt like we were royalty. We went to Dublin Airport and stopped in the countryside at the end of the runway. We had a picnic and waited for planes to take off and land.
After all the excitement of witnessing two aircraft take-offs in an hour (how different today), we got back into the presidential car. However our feelings of grandeur soon evaporated. The car would not start! Much under-the-bonnet inspection ensued by my Dad and Tom but nothing could be done.
Uncle Tom was sensibly a member of the Automobile Association. So he could phone them for assistance of course. Eh, that's if he could get to a phone. The only mobile phones in 1963 were in science fiction movies. So Tom attempted to thumb a lift to get to a phonebox. Cars passed by for awhile but then we noticed a bubble car approaching. Ah, the wonderful and enigmatic little bubble car, explanation diversion needed....
The Bubble Car was a tiny 3 wheeled and 3 seater car made by Heinkel - and actually assembled in Dundalk. Here's a site with photos of bubble cars. You entered the car through a single door - the entire front of the car was a door! There were two cramped side-by side seats in the front and a very tight single seat in the back - due to the teardrop shape of the car it was very narrow at the rear. The contraption was powered by a tiny engine of less than 200cc at the very back which drove the single rear wheel. It was like a lawn mower on steroids. The Bubble Car was popular for about 10 years from 1955-1965 and then was stopped for a combination of being dangerous in an accident and also losing market share to sensible and much bigger compact cars like the still famous Austin Mini.
Uncle Tom scanned the bubble car approaching with trepidation. I could hear faint murmurs from him like " Sweet Jaysus, don't let it stop, please don't let it stop!"
The bubble car stopped.
The front of the tiny car unfolded and somewhat appropriately there emerged a small skinny weed of a man. Uncle Tom's large hulking frame was a huge contrast. The little man listened to Uncle Tom and offered him a lift.
Very gingerly big Tom attempted entry to the bubble car. We all sniggered. I recall wondering if Uncle Tom weighed more than the car. The skinny man then sat beside him and was squashed against the side of the car by Uncle Tom's shoulders. This was getting funnier by the second. The last straw was watching the car drive away leaning precariously over to the side where Tom sat. We were in tears laughing by now. My mother got a bad cramp in her stomach from laughter and had to be helped to sit down. Eventually when Tom returned my Dad had to physically pull him from the bubble car. More uncontrolled laughter.
The AA were soon on the scene, fixed the Ford Consul and Uncle Tom was then back at the helm of a car that fitted him well.
There are other stories I could tell about Uncle Tom which were fun. When my own kids were small they used to enjoy me telling some of the tales at bedtime. But the favourite request was always..."Dad, tell us the story again of Uncle Tom and the Bubble Car!"
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
The Supreme Court shows that the Law may not be an ass!
I wrote passionately on the Mr. A release in May - see The Law is an ass .
I'm delighted with the very good sense of genuine justice and logical interpretations of law provided by the Supreme Court judges yesterday on ordering the re-arrest of Mr. A following the appeal.
It just goes to show that the law does not need to be an ass when good people take control.
I'm delighted with the very good sense of genuine justice and logical interpretations of law provided by the Supreme Court judges yesterday on ordering the re-arrest of Mr. A following the appeal.
It just goes to show that the law does not need to be an ass when good people take control.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Chess - this game helped me as a kid.
When I was growing up my parents had a few of my older cousins from Donegal and Derry lodging in our house when they started working in Dublin. At one stage the two lads took an interest in the game of chess. I watched them playing chess with each other with curiosity.
Then to my surprise I discovered that my Dad was a good chess player - he had learned to play chess in the Irish army during his time in the Curragh camp in the WWII years. So now I watched the three adults playing chess and they discussed the game regularly. I kept nagging at them all to teach me and they each put varying but small amounts of time into helping me learn. I guess I was maybe eleven years old at the time. My Dad was patient and put the most time into teaching me. This also felt like good bonding to me because Dad was a quiet man and not strong at communicating with his child. Lots of Dads were like that in the 1960s, he was far from unique.
So I found myself playing my cousins and my Dad at chess and getting beaten all the time. But every time I made a mistake or lost I learned something new which I didn't forget. Unlike the flighty cousins my Dad would play any time I asked him if he happened to be in the house. Dad was fond of going to the pub to drink with his friends and my eager youth made me hungry for greater access to his time for playing chess. He gave me tips on chess and it shaped a lot of ideas in clever moves and lateral thinking. It's a great strategy game. The length of the games improved as I learned more and I started to provide a challenge to the adults.
Next another thing happened. Completely unrelated, our primary school teacher decided it was a good idea for the class to learn to play chess. He asked the class if anyone could already play chess. Myself and another boy - Sean - put our hands up. The teacher taught the class how to play and he used myself and Sean to help out in the chess training. I was a very average pupil academically at the time, there were loads better than me in class - mainly because I was too bashful to fight for teacher time in the large class sizes of the 1960s. But chess was something where I had a head start over most of the others, for the first time I felt special and the teacher giving me an important job was brilliant.
The other boys in the class improved a lot at chess over the following months. The teacher then decided to have a class chess competition. It was a straight knockout tournament. The teacher had myself and Sean seeded on opposite parts of the draw so that we could potentially meet in the final.
Sean and myself played through all our rounds beating the other boys. They were not very easy matches as the class had improved a lot, but we won them nevertheless. So Sean and I met in the chess final for the best of 3 games. I won the first game and then Sean won the second. So it was down to the wire on the final game. I managed to win it. It was quite a thrill, first competition of any kind I'd ever won. And the prize was a beautiful orange 10 shilling note. In 1966 it would be the equivalent of a kid being handed a 50 Euro note today I suppose, and it meant more to me because we were a fairly poor family. I couldn't wait to get home to hold the note up to my parents and especially my Dad. Their excitement was equal to mine.
The win was a small thing in reality but it's funny how it inspired me. I tried to learn more about chess, even got out library books. The teacher then offered me a challenge at chess. When I managed to beat the teacher it was an amazing feeling. I often had a low opinion of myself in primary school and these little successes gave me such a badly needed boost.
I continued to play chess regularly with my Dad. He was a very pensive player, took a long time between moves, tough to beat. We were eventually fairly evenly matched, each winning as much as losing, which always kept it interesting.
So chess was a helpful little game for me as a kid - it drew me closer to my Dad and it did wonders for my confidence building in school. In hindsight I think it helped to make me believe in myself and build other goals.
Today as I watch my own kids enjoy little successes at school and other events I think on how important it is to offer kids a challenge, how it stimulates the natural enthusiasm of youth and maybe prepares them for greater goals later in life.
Then to my surprise I discovered that my Dad was a good chess player - he had learned to play chess in the Irish army during his time in the Curragh camp in the WWII years. So now I watched the three adults playing chess and they discussed the game regularly. I kept nagging at them all to teach me and they each put varying but small amounts of time into helping me learn. I guess I was maybe eleven years old at the time. My Dad was patient and put the most time into teaching me. This also felt like good bonding to me because Dad was a quiet man and not strong at communicating with his child. Lots of Dads were like that in the 1960s, he was far from unique.
So I found myself playing my cousins and my Dad at chess and getting beaten all the time. But every time I made a mistake or lost I learned something new which I didn't forget. Unlike the flighty cousins my Dad would play any time I asked him if he happened to be in the house. Dad was fond of going to the pub to drink with his friends and my eager youth made me hungry for greater access to his time for playing chess. He gave me tips on chess and it shaped a lot of ideas in clever moves and lateral thinking. It's a great strategy game. The length of the games improved as I learned more and I started to provide a challenge to the adults.
Next another thing happened. Completely unrelated, our primary school teacher decided it was a good idea for the class to learn to play chess. He asked the class if anyone could already play chess. Myself and another boy - Sean - put our hands up. The teacher taught the class how to play and he used myself and Sean to help out in the chess training. I was a very average pupil academically at the time, there were loads better than me in class - mainly because I was too bashful to fight for teacher time in the large class sizes of the 1960s. But chess was something where I had a head start over most of the others, for the first time I felt special and the teacher giving me an important job was brilliant.
The other boys in the class improved a lot at chess over the following months. The teacher then decided to have a class chess competition. It was a straight knockout tournament. The teacher had myself and Sean seeded on opposite parts of the draw so that we could potentially meet in the final.
Sean and myself played through all our rounds beating the other boys. They were not very easy matches as the class had improved a lot, but we won them nevertheless. So Sean and I met in the chess final for the best of 3 games. I won the first game and then Sean won the second. So it was down to the wire on the final game. I managed to win it. It was quite a thrill, first competition of any kind I'd ever won. And the prize was a beautiful orange 10 shilling note. In 1966 it would be the equivalent of a kid being handed a 50 Euro note today I suppose, and it meant more to me because we were a fairly poor family. I couldn't wait to get home to hold the note up to my parents and especially my Dad. Their excitement was equal to mine.
The win was a small thing in reality but it's funny how it inspired me. I tried to learn more about chess, even got out library books. The teacher then offered me a challenge at chess. When I managed to beat the teacher it was an amazing feeling. I often had a low opinion of myself in primary school and these little successes gave me such a badly needed boost.
I continued to play chess regularly with my Dad. He was a very pensive player, took a long time between moves, tough to beat. We were eventually fairly evenly matched, each winning as much as losing, which always kept it interesting.
So chess was a helpful little game for me as a kid - it drew me closer to my Dad and it did wonders for my confidence building in school. In hindsight I think it helped to make me believe in myself and build other goals.
Today as I watch my own kids enjoy little successes at school and other events I think on how important it is to offer kids a challenge, how it stimulates the natural enthusiasm of youth and maybe prepares them for greater goals later in life.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Wimbledon...Space Shuttle...World Cup
Okay. Some good reflections from yesterday...America's 4th July....
1. I took the afternoon off for various reasons - but partly to watch some Wimbledon live tennis. I enjoyed Maria Shapapova (my hero) beating Elena Dementieva in the ladies quarter finals.
2. I watched the US Space Shuttle launch live in the evening. It's always exciting to watch. I know it is mad expensive and risky putting people into space but the technological achievement blows me away. The raw power of that monster going vertically up into the air and reaching 4,000mph within a minute and 18,000 mph orbital speed within about 10 minutes - it's truly awesome. It brings me back to the glory days of Apollo launches and putting men on the Moon.
3. I watched most of the Italy - Germany World Cup semi-final. HOWEVER - I went to the bathroom for 2 minutes and missed BOTH GOALS at the end. That sucks!
1. I took the afternoon off for various reasons - but partly to watch some Wimbledon live tennis. I enjoyed Maria Shapapova (my hero) beating Elena Dementieva in the ladies quarter finals.
2. I watched the US Space Shuttle launch live in the evening. It's always exciting to watch. I know it is mad expensive and risky putting people into space but the technological achievement blows me away. The raw power of that monster going vertically up into the air and reaching 4,000mph within a minute and 18,000 mph orbital speed within about 10 minutes - it's truly awesome. It brings me back to the glory days of Apollo launches and putting men on the Moon.
3. I watched most of the Italy - Germany World Cup semi-final. HOWEVER - I went to the bathroom for 2 minutes and missed BOTH GOALS at the end. That sucks!
Saturday, June 24, 2006
The day I quit as an Altar Boy. The Genesis of success!!??
I was an altar boy for a few years in the 1960s when I was about 11 or 12 years old. It was technically an interesting little job. It made you feel important and it was a bit like acting out a play on stage. Most of my altar boy peers were also school pals and we used to have fun. There was always something to have a laugh about, usually without the priests knowing about it.
When I was an altar boy it was just before full English mass so we had to know a lot of Latin responses etc. Priests were major figures of authority to us of course and they would often criticise us after Mass for little mistakes and we took it seriously but then got over it quickly.
However I recall one incident when I was serving at an early Sunday morning Mass. I was helping with Communion distribution. This involved following along beside the priest at the rails as he put Communion onto each person's tongue. My job was to hold a gold plate - called the paten - under each person's chin to collect fragments of Holy Communion particles which might fall as the priest delivered the Communion to the person's tongue.
After Communion I was also supposed to bring the paten up to the altar so that the priest could wipe the Communion dust from the paten back into the chalice. This normally was quite a routine exercise. However, on this occasion as I started to walk up the steps to the altar the priest gestured to me from the altar with his hands that he didn't want me to come up.
Strange, I thought. I was confused. I looked down at the paten in my hand and there were clearly some particles of Communion dust on the paten. Normally my next task was to put the paten into a padded cloth storage glove. However I had the dilemma of the Communion dust. I surely can't put this in with Jesus dust on it!!?? But the priest doesn't want me to bring it to him.
I felt I had to think fast and I made an executive decision. I dusted the Communion particles off the paten myself with the back of my hand! However just as I did it I felt that maybe I had been too hasty. I looked up at the altar to see if the priest had noticed.
Oh yes he had noticed - big time! There was absolute fury on the priest's face as he looked down at me and I froze in fear. I also felt that the entire congregation in the church was witnessing my error through the priest's visible wrath. It was like a judge handing down a sentence and the entire courtroom agreeing with the guilty verdict. I could almost hear ghostly words from the priest's facial expression....
Only an ordained priest handles Holy Communion! And YOU....YOU...YOU touched the sacred Holy communion and much more besides. YOU threw bits of Jesus Christ all over the floor!! YOU ARE CONDEMNED!!!
The mass was almost over and I was freaking in fear as we went through the closing formalities. Finally when Mass ended, myself and the three other altar boys marched with the priest in procession style off the altar and into the sacristy.
What would happen to me now? The priest turned around and calmly blessed us as he always did after Mass. Then he said to us warmly and softly "Thank you boys" as he always did.
I was starting to feel signs of relief. But then he suddenly walked to me and turned from a Dr. Jekyll calm to a Mr. Hyde rage....
"BUT YOUUUUU!!!"
What followed was a blur of loud verbal anger and major admonishment. It was severe, long lasting and terrifying. I can't even remember what he said...it was just a torrent of pure rage. We all had a huge respect for priests - they were like Gods, everything they said was absolutely correct. So a litany of abuse like this from a priest to a child was like being made more than worthless in the extreme. I would have much preferred if he had just hit me instead, as teachers did.
As we left the sacristy I do recall one of my pals saying to me - "Jaysus! That was rough, are ye alright?" The other two boys remained silent and it looked like the intensity of the barrage had shaken them up a bit too.
We went our separate ways and I remember running home full of guilt and fear. My mother turned white when she saw me coming in the door visibly very upset. She thought something terrible had happened. She had to hold me by both shoulders, eyeball me and talk assertively to stop me shaking. She tried to get sense out of me and halt my hyperventilating.
When she heard what I had done my mother was the parent of dreams. She was kind, helpful, played it all down, brought me back from hell. My mother was a very serious Catholic but her relationship with God was a soft personal friendship. She knew I was not evil and as I listened to her a calmness slowly descended.
But I never went back to the church as an altar boy. I never wanted to hear rage like that again from a priest.
As I write this and reflect also on other incidents, it helps me to clarify a few things in my head about myself. I think I grew up into early adulthood with some fear and discomfort towards people who had strong authority over me, especially if it seemed badly used and was accompanied by anger. I also had a few part time jobs in my teens with absolutely moronic bosses.
I think it all helped me to develop over time some goals. The initial and most basic goal was that I was determined to work in a carreer in which I was respected as a person. This, coupled with a natural interest in science and technology, helped to drive me forward educationally. When I eventually graduated and worked in various large companies things were good. However I still felt some imprint of unease in a general sense at authority. This would apply in a moderate level to either individual bosses or - in the case of multi-nationals - of faceless forces who could control my own and other's direction and fate. I suppose it was one factor in getting out of it all and forming my own company, although there were other better reasons. I find I can cope with and enjoy challenges, pressures and deadlines from customers and even worries of failure much better than dealing with powerful - and especially unpredictable - figures of authority.
So who knows - often dark clouds have a silver lining.
When I was an altar boy it was just before full English mass so we had to know a lot of Latin responses etc. Priests were major figures of authority to us of course and they would often criticise us after Mass for little mistakes and we took it seriously but then got over it quickly.
However I recall one incident when I was serving at an early Sunday morning Mass. I was helping with Communion distribution. This involved following along beside the priest at the rails as he put Communion onto each person's tongue. My job was to hold a gold plate - called the paten - under each person's chin to collect fragments of Holy Communion particles which might fall as the priest delivered the Communion to the person's tongue.
After Communion I was also supposed to bring the paten up to the altar so that the priest could wipe the Communion dust from the paten back into the chalice. This normally was quite a routine exercise. However, on this occasion as I started to walk up the steps to the altar the priest gestured to me from the altar with his hands that he didn't want me to come up.
Strange, I thought. I was confused. I looked down at the paten in my hand and there were clearly some particles of Communion dust on the paten. Normally my next task was to put the paten into a padded cloth storage glove. However I had the dilemma of the Communion dust. I surely can't put this in with Jesus dust on it!!?? But the priest doesn't want me to bring it to him.
I felt I had to think fast and I made an executive decision. I dusted the Communion particles off the paten myself with the back of my hand! However just as I did it I felt that maybe I had been too hasty. I looked up at the altar to see if the priest had noticed.
Oh yes he had noticed - big time! There was absolute fury on the priest's face as he looked down at me and I froze in fear. I also felt that the entire congregation in the church was witnessing my error through the priest's visible wrath. It was like a judge handing down a sentence and the entire courtroom agreeing with the guilty verdict. I could almost hear ghostly words from the priest's facial expression....
Only an ordained priest handles Holy Communion! And YOU....YOU...YOU touched the sacred Holy communion and much more besides. YOU threw bits of Jesus Christ all over the floor!! YOU ARE CONDEMNED!!!
The mass was almost over and I was freaking in fear as we went through the closing formalities. Finally when Mass ended, myself and the three other altar boys marched with the priest in procession style off the altar and into the sacristy.
What would happen to me now? The priest turned around and calmly blessed us as he always did after Mass. Then he said to us warmly and softly "Thank you boys" as he always did.
I was starting to feel signs of relief. But then he suddenly walked to me and turned from a Dr. Jekyll calm to a Mr. Hyde rage....
"BUT YOUUUUU!!!"
What followed was a blur of loud verbal anger and major admonishment. It was severe, long lasting and terrifying. I can't even remember what he said...it was just a torrent of pure rage. We all had a huge respect for priests - they were like Gods, everything they said was absolutely correct. So a litany of abuse like this from a priest to a child was like being made more than worthless in the extreme. I would have much preferred if he had just hit me instead, as teachers did.
As we left the sacristy I do recall one of my pals saying to me - "Jaysus! That was rough, are ye alright?" The other two boys remained silent and it looked like the intensity of the barrage had shaken them up a bit too.
We went our separate ways and I remember running home full of guilt and fear. My mother turned white when she saw me coming in the door visibly very upset. She thought something terrible had happened. She had to hold me by both shoulders, eyeball me and talk assertively to stop me shaking. She tried to get sense out of me and halt my hyperventilating.
When she heard what I had done my mother was the parent of dreams. She was kind, helpful, played it all down, brought me back from hell. My mother was a very serious Catholic but her relationship with God was a soft personal friendship. She knew I was not evil and as I listened to her a calmness slowly descended.
But I never went back to the church as an altar boy. I never wanted to hear rage like that again from a priest.
As I write this and reflect also on other incidents, it helps me to clarify a few things in my head about myself. I think I grew up into early adulthood with some fear and discomfort towards people who had strong authority over me, especially if it seemed badly used and was accompanied by anger. I also had a few part time jobs in my teens with absolutely moronic bosses.
I think it all helped me to develop over time some goals. The initial and most basic goal was that I was determined to work in a carreer in which I was respected as a person. This, coupled with a natural interest in science and technology, helped to drive me forward educationally. When I eventually graduated and worked in various large companies things were good. However I still felt some imprint of unease in a general sense at authority. This would apply in a moderate level to either individual bosses or - in the case of multi-nationals - of faceless forces who could control my own and other's direction and fate. I suppose it was one factor in getting out of it all and forming my own company, although there were other better reasons. I find I can cope with and enjoy challenges, pressures and deadlines from customers and even worries of failure much better than dealing with powerful - and especially unpredictable - figures of authority.
So who knows - often dark clouds have a silver lining.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Bebo...I think it's good
My three daughters (aged 16-22) use Bebo almost daily as do every one of their friends.
I put myself up on Bebo for a laugh and to learn more about it. It generated great amusement by my daughters and their pals for awhile that a 50+ dude would be on Bebo. The comments were generous though!
My overall view is that Bebo is quite a good service and particularly suited to Ireland in my opinion. Here is why I think it's good...
1. It is sociable and has helped young people network with both friends and friends of friends and school peer groups etc. It has been said that in Ireland everyone is almost a friend of a friend away from everyone else.
2. It encourages less time watching TV and using computer games so creates some balance.
3. It facilitates a certain amount of creative imagination and freedom of expression in sharing writing, pictures, video etc. It's hardly the stuff of genius but it's a start. Some of the participants are certainly hilarious and have good imaginations.
4. It's well used as a free alternative to mass texting and is great for organising parties and outings. When pals are abroad it's just as easy to stay in touch. It also marries well with Skype for talking free PC to PC.
One possible negative I notice is that a lot of macho talk goes on especially in relation to joking on male-female stuff and relationships generally. I could imagine a degree of bullying might simmer. However it's such an exposed medium that I think it tends to find it's limitations and gets sorted by good peer group pressures. Of course Bebo also has internal mechanisms to report and deal with bad behaviour.
Bebo is hugely popular and it's biggest advantage is that it's a good tool for fun sociable interactions and keeping and extending networks of pals.
I put myself up on Bebo for a laugh and to learn more about it. It generated great amusement by my daughters and their pals for awhile that a 50+ dude would be on Bebo. The comments were generous though!
My overall view is that Bebo is quite a good service and particularly suited to Ireland in my opinion. Here is why I think it's good...
1. It is sociable and has helped young people network with both friends and friends of friends and school peer groups etc. It has been said that in Ireland everyone is almost a friend of a friend away from everyone else.
2. It encourages less time watching TV and using computer games so creates some balance.
3. It facilitates a certain amount of creative imagination and freedom of expression in sharing writing, pictures, video etc. It's hardly the stuff of genius but it's a start. Some of the participants are certainly hilarious and have good imaginations.
4. It's well used as a free alternative to mass texting and is great for organising parties and outings. When pals are abroad it's just as easy to stay in touch. It also marries well with Skype for talking free PC to PC.
One possible negative I notice is that a lot of macho talk goes on especially in relation to joking on male-female stuff and relationships generally. I could imagine a degree of bullying might simmer. However it's such an exposed medium that I think it tends to find it's limitations and gets sorted by good peer group pressures. Of course Bebo also has internal mechanisms to report and deal with bad behaviour.
Bebo is hugely popular and it's biggest advantage is that it's a good tool for fun sociable interactions and keeping and extending networks of pals.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Haughey...it pains me to say more.
So much has been written in the last few days following the funeral. It will continue and become more interesting, complex and revealing. To quote Churchill following the defeat of Rommel in North Africa in WWII - "Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning".
I wrote a short piece on Haughey on the day of his death and I wanted to leave it there. The man pains me too much and has always done so since I was in my teens. I decided to try and move on by writing on Joyce's Ulysses on his funeral day (the old goat probably smiled from the grave at being buried on Bloomsday like another little man - Paddy Dignam). I've read many interesting things in recent days which were tempting to comment on. However I wasn't going to bother at all until I read John Waters in the Irish Times today.
I've respect for John Waters, a great writer, and I've agreed with him so many times. I can also forgive him for writing in my opinion a total load of rubbish on Haughey today. However, there is something much more sinister about what John wrote today which represents a bigger picture. It's the effect Haughey has had on intelligent people. It must be something approaching witchcraft. What else could make an intelligent man say about Haughey "He showed us a way we might live, by living it himself. That this emerged as another illusion was part of its value". I don't like just pulling out one part of his article, but the entire piece builds a picture of Haughey as showing the way for the masses who had it hard.
What bothers me is that so many good people were beguiled by Haughey. It was at it's most dangerous at the attempted illegal import of arms which could have easily caused a civil war bloodbath in Northern Ireland. As a Government Minister at the time he certainly (along with others) at the very least offered a quasi-morality to the acceleration of the Provisional IRA. He thought he was backing the winning game and of course when it went pear-shaped and he was caught - it was into his favourite pastime of lying and cheating his way out of trouble. I lived through all this as a teenager and I was in my 20s when my jaw dropped (along with Jack Lynch and most of the nation) as he became leader of Fianna Fail. His ability to beguile was laid bare for all. And yet supporters of Fianna Fail voted for him. Business men gave him truck loads of money, he tapped phones, he continued borrowing and swept the country into crippling debt. At it's peak I remember him in a televised pre-election debate with Garret Fitzgerald saying that Ireland had a good credit standing abroad for borrowing...i.e. let's keep doing it. He was proved to owe hugely in personal tax from wrongly channeled donations over his time as leader of the country and only made limited settlements recently when fully cornered. The beguiled authorities couldn't see fit to have him trialed and jailed.
What possessed Ben Dunne to give him so much money - 1.3 million? He spoke after Haughey's death on RTE radio that he felt guilty of the pain he caused Charlie after this (he generously gives Haughey money AND manages to feel guilty!!). Ben then said his own biggest weakness is his own BRAIN . Frightening stuff. More beguiling of a successful businessman - reduced to self criticism and self doubt.
There is so much more, not to mention Haughey's cheating on his poor wife, but I've had enough of him. I'm all spent, I was weakened and let down by a leader whose salary I paid. I feel a bit like Scott of Antarctica as he awaited death in the frozen wastelands...."It seems a pity but I don't think I can write any more".
However I hope many more keep writing on Haughey. It needs to be said.
I wrote a short piece on Haughey on the day of his death and I wanted to leave it there. The man pains me too much and has always done so since I was in my teens. I decided to try and move on by writing on Joyce's Ulysses on his funeral day (the old goat probably smiled from the grave at being buried on Bloomsday like another little man - Paddy Dignam). I've read many interesting things in recent days which were tempting to comment on. However I wasn't going to bother at all until I read John Waters in the Irish Times today.
I've respect for John Waters, a great writer, and I've agreed with him so many times. I can also forgive him for writing in my opinion a total load of rubbish on Haughey today. However, there is something much more sinister about what John wrote today which represents a bigger picture. It's the effect Haughey has had on intelligent people. It must be something approaching witchcraft. What else could make an intelligent man say about Haughey "He showed us a way we might live, by living it himself. That this emerged as another illusion was part of its value". I don't like just pulling out one part of his article, but the entire piece builds a picture of Haughey as showing the way for the masses who had it hard.
What bothers me is that so many good people were beguiled by Haughey. It was at it's most dangerous at the attempted illegal import of arms which could have easily caused a civil war bloodbath in Northern Ireland. As a Government Minister at the time he certainly (along with others) at the very least offered a quasi-morality to the acceleration of the Provisional IRA. He thought he was backing the winning game and of course when it went pear-shaped and he was caught - it was into his favourite pastime of lying and cheating his way out of trouble. I lived through all this as a teenager and I was in my 20s when my jaw dropped (along with Jack Lynch and most of the nation) as he became leader of Fianna Fail. His ability to beguile was laid bare for all. And yet supporters of Fianna Fail voted for him. Business men gave him truck loads of money, he tapped phones, he continued borrowing and swept the country into crippling debt. At it's peak I remember him in a televised pre-election debate with Garret Fitzgerald saying that Ireland had a good credit standing abroad for borrowing...i.e. let's keep doing it. He was proved to owe hugely in personal tax from wrongly channeled donations over his time as leader of the country and only made limited settlements recently when fully cornered. The beguiled authorities couldn't see fit to have him trialed and jailed.
What possessed Ben Dunne to give him so much money - 1.3 million? He spoke after Haughey's death on RTE radio that he felt guilty of the pain he caused Charlie after this (he generously gives Haughey money AND manages to feel guilty!!). Ben then said his own biggest weakness is his own BRAIN . Frightening stuff. More beguiling of a successful businessman - reduced to self criticism and self doubt.
There is so much more, not to mention Haughey's cheating on his poor wife, but I've had enough of him. I'm all spent, I was weakened and let down by a leader whose salary I paid. I feel a bit like Scott of Antarctica as he awaited death in the frozen wastelands...."It seems a pity but I don't think I can write any more".
However I hope many more keep writing on Haughey. It needs to be said.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Ulysses
It's Bloomsday.
I've been a part time student of James Joyce's Ulysses for years. I use the word student carefully as I believe it's not a book anyone can take lightly and just "read" it.
There have been times when I've agreed with Roddy Doyle that Ulysses needed a damn good editor to shorten it. However I can never help dipping back into it in phases and researching or learning more from it. I like it on many levels....
* In a simplistic way, as a Dubliner I enjoy it. It's full of places I know well. Also, some of the little expressions which come out in dialogue remind me of things I heard my paternal grandparents saying. A small example would be a description of Paddy Dignam at his funeral..."As decent a little man as ever wore a hat." My Grandad was always using such an expression. I've heard many say that it's a book that is better read out loud, and there is some truth in this. I think there are some parts of the book where you can just chill out and have a laugh, you don't always have to take it so seriously and it includes many interesting working class characters.
* Some of the descriptive images were very powerful. Stephen's description of his mother and her death are very strong. Even a simple description of the sea by Buck Mulligan will strike a chord with many people used to the Dublin coastline..."The snot-green sea...the scrotum tightening sea."
* Its depths and paralleling are of course hunting grounds for scholars. The Homer parallels and the little linked events in different chapters. Then of course each chapter is often in a different style altogether, it's almost like reading multiple but linked stories from different writers. And we have the Stream of Consciousness revised style at the time.
* In another way I'm interested in Joyce's wonderful blend of Dublin and Irishness and the greater World. He is a very free spirit globally. We see considerable analysis of Shakespeare's work and other English writers and Greek literature of course. I can't yet figure out if he was before his time in his view of Irishness or was somewhat taken in by the strong English influence on the artistic Dublin at the time - which maybe encouraged the wider global study. I suppose both views are compatible. There is mention of the Irish language in the book and Irish heritage but it seems subdued and almost strikes one as being of historical interest. The Irish freedom struggle from England is not given any serious analysis to the best of my recollection. This is interesting even though it would have been highly topical as he wrote Ulysses from 1914-1921(albeit abroad), but maybe in the setting of 1904 it was less topical. Joyce clearly liked Dublin and had strong memories as an exile. He used to say he felt he never left Dublin in his heart.
* Some of the beauty of Ulysses is that it constantly causes debate and analysis of meaning for scholars. This is assisted by Joyce's refusal afterwards to offer any help in answering detailed questions on the book. Nothing like a bit of innuendo to get literary sleuths excited.
I could waffle on longer about Ulysses, but one think is certain. The book is considered essential study for literary scholars Worldwide and by many as one of the most important works of literature in the last century. And it is all set on one summer day in Dublin - 102 years ago today. What a national treasure for us.
I've been a part time student of James Joyce's Ulysses for years. I use the word student carefully as I believe it's not a book anyone can take lightly and just "read" it.
There have been times when I've agreed with Roddy Doyle that Ulysses needed a damn good editor to shorten it. However I can never help dipping back into it in phases and researching or learning more from it. I like it on many levels....
* In a simplistic way, as a Dubliner I enjoy it. It's full of places I know well. Also, some of the little expressions which come out in dialogue remind me of things I heard my paternal grandparents saying. A small example would be a description of Paddy Dignam at his funeral..."As decent a little man as ever wore a hat." My Grandad was always using such an expression. I've heard many say that it's a book that is better read out loud, and there is some truth in this. I think there are some parts of the book where you can just chill out and have a laugh, you don't always have to take it so seriously and it includes many interesting working class characters.
* Some of the descriptive images were very powerful. Stephen's description of his mother and her death are very strong. Even a simple description of the sea by Buck Mulligan will strike a chord with many people used to the Dublin coastline..."The snot-green sea...the scrotum tightening sea."
* Its depths and paralleling are of course hunting grounds for scholars. The Homer parallels and the little linked events in different chapters. Then of course each chapter is often in a different style altogether, it's almost like reading multiple but linked stories from different writers. And we have the Stream of Consciousness revised style at the time.
* In another way I'm interested in Joyce's wonderful blend of Dublin and Irishness and the greater World. He is a very free spirit globally. We see considerable analysis of Shakespeare's work and other English writers and Greek literature of course. I can't yet figure out if he was before his time in his view of Irishness or was somewhat taken in by the strong English influence on the artistic Dublin at the time - which maybe encouraged the wider global study. I suppose both views are compatible. There is mention of the Irish language in the book and Irish heritage but it seems subdued and almost strikes one as being of historical interest. The Irish freedom struggle from England is not given any serious analysis to the best of my recollection. This is interesting even though it would have been highly topical as he wrote Ulysses from 1914-1921(albeit abroad), but maybe in the setting of 1904 it was less topical. Joyce clearly liked Dublin and had strong memories as an exile. He used to say he felt he never left Dublin in his heart.
* Some of the beauty of Ulysses is that it constantly causes debate and analysis of meaning for scholars. This is assisted by Joyce's refusal afterwards to offer any help in answering detailed questions on the book. Nothing like a bit of innuendo to get literary sleuths excited.
I could waffle on longer about Ulysses, but one think is certain. The book is considered essential study for literary scholars Worldwide and by many as one of the most important works of literature in the last century. And it is all set on one summer day in Dublin - 102 years ago today. What a national treasure for us.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Charles J. Haughey died today
Well well, the man has passed away. Much will be said. I wonder how many times in the next week we will hear the Shakespearean quotation...."I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him!"
I think it's all best summed up by Fine Gael's Alan Dukes who was quoted as saying that Haughey was a gifted politician who ultimately wasted his talents - "I have never known anybody with such ability and who squandered it all spectacularly. It was incredible".
Footnote 6.00pm....
Speaking of Shakespeare - I almost forgot that Haughey quoted Othello when he resigned as Taoiseach around 1992 - "I have done the State some service." Things are bad when you need to go for self praise in a resignation speech. I head a cynical re-parsing of above recently for Mr. Haughey...
"I have DONE the State. Some service!"
I think it's all best summed up by Fine Gael's Alan Dukes who was quoted as saying that Haughey was a gifted politician who ultimately wasted his talents - "I have never known anybody with such ability and who squandered it all spectacularly. It was incredible".
Footnote 6.00pm....
Speaking of Shakespeare - I almost forgot that Haughey quoted Othello when he resigned as Taoiseach around 1992 - "I have done the State some service." Things are bad when you need to go for self praise in a resignation speech. I head a cynical re-parsing of above recently for Mr. Haughey...
"I have DONE the State. Some service!"
DANGER - Daughter on route to domestic training....
Our middle daughter has just turned 20 and has finished 2nd year as student nurse. She travelled last week with a pal to Vancouver, Canada, for 3 months summer work. She is staying in dorm in a University. She is a little too used to home comforts as you will notice from below e-mail she sent me today...unedited from her text style and typos....
Hi dad,
Could u do a favour and print this letter off for mum to read or else read it to her. I thought you should both know how your favourite daughter had a reality check yesterday due to a sheltered life of never doing chores!!
So I woke up and decided I would have some breakfast only to discover I only had rashers, no bread, no drink. So a very parched Jill decided it was time to do a shop. Out came my big rucksack and down I treked to the bus stop. Got onto the bus and travelled the 7 minutes to the closest "tesco" as such where I signed up for a discount card because of low funds. I travelled up and down each aisle remembering that this is wat my good mother does so she dusnt forget anything!! I was quite chuffed with myself I bought lots of healthy things and it wasnt so expensive. I bought basmati rice, chicken fillets, tikka masala sauce, yogurts orange juice, spaghetti, soup apple juice oh and of course chicken nuggets n chips!!
So off i went after packing it into my bag. It weighed a tonne!!!! My poor back was broken....and i had to walk UP the hill to the bustop. I then got off a bus stop too late and had to walk 15 mins to our house by which stage my back was as gud as done in!!
So I made it home in one piece. I had bought myself all these nice foods......but i forgot i dont even no how to boil the rice!!! So all the girls had a great time laughing at me try to put my dinner together wondering where id been living all my life. But in the end I was quite proud of myself. With alot of help I barbqued a chicken fillet and cut it up n simmered it in tikka masala sauce and had it with the basmati rice!! It was the best and most proper meal Iv had since I got here!! I had a yop to follow and felt so much better !! Didnt realize I was eating so badly!! Anyways so I had learnt how to boil rice, cook chicken and masala sauce and how to shop for myslef and get the bus alone......wat else did i need to do? oh yes clean up after myself. So I had to go into the kitchen for 40 minutes and scrub all the pots and pans my plates and knives and forks ect. ect.
Then it dawned on me its Sunday....therefore its chore day in the house which means evryone is given a chore to do. Mine is to sweep and scrub down the second floor corridor......which I am realizing at 9pm. So up i go to my room and i realize i dont have any clothes to put on cuz ther ALL DIRTY. So once again the girls came to the rescue...i had to sort out my whites from my dark colours and bright colours and woollens from something else ITS ALL SO CONFUSING!! i had to trek three flights of stairs to put my washing on. Then back up the stair to sweep the corridor. Then I had to bleach and clean the mop and bucket with boiling hot water which i scorched my feet with on numerous occasions!! Then out to the corridor where I scrubbed it from top to bottom......
At this stage its almost midnight and the sweat was dripping of me. I went down the three flights of stairs to get my washing and put a new load on.....I didnt have money to put clothes into the drier so i had to hang my pants and clothes around the room...i then cleaned my room made my bed and then went bak down to get the second load of washing ad hang them around my room...
Finally i got into bed about 2am absolutly wiped ........and i no its only a matter of days before i have to do it all again....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So growing up sucks......Im not enjoying doing chores MOMMY!!!! I DONT WANT TO CLEAN ANYMORE!!!!
u wont even recognize me wen i get home if i keep this up!!! anyway thought ud find this email amusing...i will not take u for granted anymore mother...........this is NOT fun!!!!
Other than my chores i still absolutely love vancouver and as hard as all my chores where it was actually very funny we all had a great time laughin at my expense!!! so for now its slightly amusing....!!!!
Still waiting to hear back on sum jobs....other then that not much news!! Gettin on great with aisling and all the girls in the house are lovely!!
Better go make sum breakfast.........
Ill call u guys soon!!!
Love ya lots!!
Jill!!!
x xx x x
Hi dad,
Could u do a favour and print this letter off for mum to read or else read it to her. I thought you should both know how your favourite daughter had a reality check yesterday due to a sheltered life of never doing chores!!
So I woke up and decided I would have some breakfast only to discover I only had rashers, no bread, no drink. So a very parched Jill decided it was time to do a shop. Out came my big rucksack and down I treked to the bus stop. Got onto the bus and travelled the 7 minutes to the closest "tesco" as such where I signed up for a discount card because of low funds. I travelled up and down each aisle remembering that this is wat my good mother does so she dusnt forget anything!! I was quite chuffed with myself I bought lots of healthy things and it wasnt so expensive. I bought basmati rice, chicken fillets, tikka masala sauce, yogurts orange juice, spaghetti, soup apple juice oh and of course chicken nuggets n chips!!
So off i went after packing it into my bag. It weighed a tonne!!!! My poor back was broken....and i had to walk UP the hill to the bustop. I then got off a bus stop too late and had to walk 15 mins to our house by which stage my back was as gud as done in!!
So I made it home in one piece. I had bought myself all these nice foods......but i forgot i dont even no how to boil the rice!!! So all the girls had a great time laughing at me try to put my dinner together wondering where id been living all my life. But in the end I was quite proud of myself. With alot of help I barbqued a chicken fillet and cut it up n simmered it in tikka masala sauce and had it with the basmati rice!! It was the best and most proper meal Iv had since I got here!! I had a yop to follow and felt so much better !! Didnt realize I was eating so badly!! Anyways so I had learnt how to boil rice, cook chicken and masala sauce and how to shop for myslef and get the bus alone......wat else did i need to do? oh yes clean up after myself. So I had to go into the kitchen for 40 minutes and scrub all the pots and pans my plates and knives and forks ect. ect.
Then it dawned on me its Sunday....therefore its chore day in the house which means evryone is given a chore to do. Mine is to sweep and scrub down the second floor corridor......which I am realizing at 9pm. So up i go to my room and i realize i dont have any clothes to put on cuz ther ALL DIRTY. So once again the girls came to the rescue...i had to sort out my whites from my dark colours and bright colours and woollens from something else ITS ALL SO CONFUSING!! i had to trek three flights of stairs to put my washing on. Then back up the stair to sweep the corridor. Then I had to bleach and clean the mop and bucket with boiling hot water which i scorched my feet with on numerous occasions!! Then out to the corridor where I scrubbed it from top to bottom......
At this stage its almost midnight and the sweat was dripping of me. I went down the three flights of stairs to get my washing and put a new load on.....I didnt have money to put clothes into the drier so i had to hang my pants and clothes around the room...i then cleaned my room made my bed and then went bak down to get the second load of washing ad hang them around my room...
Finally i got into bed about 2am absolutly wiped ........and i no its only a matter of days before i have to do it all again....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So growing up sucks......Im not enjoying doing chores MOMMY!!!! I DONT WANT TO CLEAN ANYMORE!!!!
u wont even recognize me wen i get home if i keep this up!!! anyway thought ud find this email amusing...i will not take u for granted anymore mother...........this is NOT fun!!!!
Other than my chores i still absolutely love vancouver and as hard as all my chores where it was actually very funny we all had a great time laughin at my expense!!! so for now its slightly amusing....!!!!
Still waiting to hear back on sum jobs....other then that not much news!! Gettin on great with aisling and all the girls in the house are lovely!!
Better go make sum breakfast.........
Ill call u guys soon!!!
Love ya lots!!
Jill!!!
x xx x x
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Busy Saturday
Today has been busy. In morning I cut the grass and attacked some ivy which was attacking our shed and did general tidy up. Spousy did more though - washed every window in the house inside and outside - there's about 22 of them.
Whilst having lunch I alternated between England's World Cup opener against Paraguay and the ladies French Open tennis final on TV - I'm an expert channel flicker. I made sure I listened to BBC's experts views at half time and also Dunphy and gang on RTE. Predictably you would think they were commenting on two different matches - BBC guys thought England were playing great, Dunphy and gang didn't.
At 4.00pm I'd an inter-club singles tennis match. It was exhausting and lasted 3 sets and almost 3 hours. It was close but the other guy won. I'm absolutely shagged this evening, can hardly move, I was even too tired to do serious stretches afterwards - hence I can hardly walk. But I better learn as I've more tennis in morning.
Whilst having lunch I alternated between England's World Cup opener against Paraguay and the ladies French Open tennis final on TV - I'm an expert channel flicker. I made sure I listened to BBC's experts views at half time and also Dunphy and gang on RTE. Predictably you would think they were commenting on two different matches - BBC guys thought England were playing great, Dunphy and gang didn't.
At 4.00pm I'd an inter-club singles tennis match. It was exhausting and lasted 3 sets and almost 3 hours. It was close but the other guy won. I'm absolutely shagged this evening, can hardly move, I was even too tired to do serious stretches afterwards - hence I can hardly walk. But I better learn as I've more tennis in morning.
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