goodbye to all that

Had a great lazy Christmas with family and quite a few nice evenings with friends. Our first Christmas without one of the kids at home, but our eldest rang Christmas morning and chatted for half an hour or so. Told us to turn the turkey upside down for the first three hours. Didn't do it any harm. Had two humbling experiences over the week. One was getting to play a session with Mairtin O'Connor and his lovely young daughter at a friend's house. The second was reading Kurt Vonnegut's last book. It's incredible how people of true genius (not a term I bandy about)make everything seem so simple. Anyway, go mbeirfidh muid beo ar an am seo aris! (that we may be alive at this time next year!)
love and lunacy to all!

singinging

Went to hear Declan O'Rourke Weds night. The boy can sing. Going to hear the third class Christmas play at 11.30. The girls can also sing. The bedroom is filling up with things which need wrapping, leading to a lack of floor space which has necessitated the temporary removal of the bathroom scales (en suite being too small for same). hohoho indeed. Finished work for Christmas already The old mince pie fetish is starting to kick in and the kids are pacing up and down in the hall complaining about dad's "24/7 online scrabble addiction". While we're on the subject, what kind of deluded wierdo would use a scrabble site to try and pick up "saucy young girls" or "hot young gay men". It's SCRABBLE, for God's sake. Scrabble is what you do when you want your social life to be temporarily suspended. When you want to prove to yourself that your brain is not dead, just because it hasn't been used for a while. It's not for writing dirty words and sniggering to yourself. Is it?

blank expression

So if you're supposed to do lots of stuff on Saturday, starting early in the morning and you have to go to the pub Friday night (in the line of duty), you limit yourself to a small number of pints. Obvously. Then when you get home you go upstairs to bed and go to sleep. Naturally. you don't look into the room where your new pc with the big colouredy screen is sitting there, newly installed broadband box winking at you from under the table. Even if you're stupid enough to have a quick spin, you do not start to investigate the online scrabble thing that one of the Fabulous Galway Gospel Choir pointed out to you the previous week. Upon deciding that you might have a quick look you ABSOLUTELY DO NOT START EIGHT ONLINE GAMES, INCLUDING ONE IN BLEEDING FRENCH AND STAY UP TILL FIVE BEING HAMMERED BY PEOPLE FROM COUNTRIES WHERE IT'S STILL BRIGHT OUTSIDE!
when will we ever learn, when will we ever learn?

busy w/end

The fabulous Galway Gospel Choir are doing their Christmas thang at 8.30 tomorrow in the Abbey Church in Galway city, immediately prior to going on the piss. Before that my u14s are playing Offaly Lions at rugby. Sunday my two ballerinas are flitting across the stage in the Town Hall Theatre in their biennial show. Looking forward to a rest at work on monday!

too much information!

Been tagged by Jack mcBastard.
Seven facts about me.
1. For my third birthday my Grandad bought me a drum. My parents hid the drumsticks and told me it was a stool. I sat on it for six months.

2. Though totally not superstitious, not interested in tarot readings, palmistry and would run a mile from a seance, I have seen three ghosts in my lifetime, all of whom were cycling bikes at the time.

3. Once peed on Dermot Morgan's shoe (accidentally).

4. Gospel music makes me cry (listening, not singing)

5. Ditto brass bands

6. Are we there yet? no? shit! I've developed a safety valve which stops me drinking any more when I'm (just about)pissed.

7. I get annoyed whenever anyone mentions star signs or enneagrams.

Right then, I tag macdara, http://macdara.wordpress.com/, Ellie. http://whenthebelfastchildsinsagain.blogspot.com/, Tonii,http://next2lastchapter.wordpress.com/, govstooge, http://govstooge.blogspot.com/ Annie,http://annierhiannon.blogspot.com/ savannah,http://savmarshmama.blogspot.com/and Bock,http://www.bocktherobber.com/

generation gap

Scary thing happened the other day. I was teaching a song to a 12 year old, so I told him I was going to record it so he could play along with it at home. I produced a blank cassette and went to put it in the recorder. "what's that?" says he. "A cassette", says I. One you can record on? Cool!" says he. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, having spent the last week or two trying to find a mini hi fi system that incorporates a cassette player, but still!

Word games.

I suppose I'm probably the last person on the planet to know about this, but just in case I'm the second last, www.freerice.com was recommended to me by someone who should know better. Bad enough that I'm addicted to verbotomy and that none of my family will play scrabble with me any more, (me? Smug expression? me?) and that I'm a three sudoku a day man, (Irish Times). I had one of my madey-uppey words published in a Toronto newspaper last week, which has to officially confirm my anorakdom. So midway through the busiest week of my working year, this Swiss git sends me the url of a friggin word game!

OK stop press! I was pausing a couple of seconds ago, wondering what noun to use after the word Swiss, when my phone rang. I picked it up, to find it was a call from Geneva! How scary is that! I know two Swiss people, both of whom live in Galway (but only one of whom is a git). Maybe that big particle accellerator yoke that they built over there picks up on Swiss vibes or something. Where's that Scully bitch when you need her?

christmas fear

Just reading about Govstooges' pre-christmas panic (http://govstooge.blogspot.com/) is enough to put the fear of God into you about the Christmas shopping. I know it's irrational, but I hate people who have their Christmas shopping done by the time the kids go back to school. What the fuck kind of lives do these people lead? I seceretely (well, not secretely any more now) hope that all their presents suddenly become useless through sudden onset allergies, baldness, impotence or legal proceedings. The only people more deserving of our sympathy than last minute shoppers are the poor shop assistants who have to try to assist, talk down, and suffer the moods of us panickers. I spent a decade or so in retail management in the nineties and the re is nothing quite like the dread of waking up on Christmas Eve morning, knowing that you would be dealing with a lethal cocktail of panicking punters, hungover staff wearing santa hats, bosses phoning on the half-hour looking for up to date figures, drunk punters, thieves, pickpockets, staff wondering can they leave early to get a bus to Donegal/Roscommon/London, staff not wanting to work in the same area as the staff member they shifted at the drunken staff party three days before, lost children, lost parents, lost grannies and the knowledge that you had to come in on Stephen's day to organize the displays for the sales.
Ho Ho Ho indeed!

I'm Back

Aapologies to my dedicated reader. Had a hectic month at work and neglected all my regular blog reading/writing duties. Had a few nice experiences during the hecticity (sorry, too long away from www.verbotomy.com, obviously). Had the Uachtarain visit our workplace, where my youngest daughter (8)presented her with flowers. Saw lots of kids having great fun at science shows that we organized around the county. The Fabulous Galway Gospel Choir got to sing support to the Even More Fabulous Harlem Gospel Choir, who were realy nice with compliments and hugs! Great buzz! Saw my 16 year old son dancing quite competantly in his school play, while managing to look mortified at the same time. Priceless!

can't talk now

can't talk now. running Science Festival.

Scary stories

We're on a major halloween party carousel at the moment. Our eight year old had a party yesterday and has two today, with a 1 hour window in between for trick or treating. She went to yesterday's party as cinderella's ghost. My lady wife works in the health services, primarily with primary school children. Yesterday she asked all of the kids who came to see her what they would be dressing up as for trick or treat. the response was as follows;
6 witches
4 vampires
1 werewolf
1 priest.
I see Twenty Major is getting into the halloween spirit, sporting a rather scary looking eye injury, picked up in the line of Damien Rice dissing. I think he's just trying to look sufficiently ugly so John Kelly won't feel threatened, and will invite him to talk about his new buke. Let's be careful out there!

What do we like about the Irish soccer team

1. They make the Irish Rugby team look competant.
2. They work wonders for the self-esteem of crap soccer nations
3. The press conferences
4. errrrrr....ehhhhhm.......ehhhh (actual transcript of some of the press conferences)

I'm scared

I'm not a "new man" type. I generally keep my personal feelings to myself and I am careful about who confide in. However, there are times when the nerve endings become so frayed that discretion goes out the window and the bottling up of emotions brings with it a steady increase in pressure, until the decision about who to tell and in what circumstances goes out the window. A safety valve somewhere takes over before the overproduction of bile and the endless anguished sleepless nights lead to a screaming mental eruption.
I'm really really scared that there is a slight slight chance that England might win the Rugby World Cup. Not because of any xenophobic, political or historic reasons. Not because they wouldn't deserve it if they did win. Not because it could have been us (it couldn't). No.
We could never watch or listen to rugby commentry on a british channel ever ever ever again. Ever. Even if England were beaten. Even if England weren't playing. Even if it wasn't international rugby. Even if it was under 10 rugby. So when George Hook loses what remains of his marbles or Trevor Brennan quits punditry to take up a career in poetry, or the creeping paralysis finally reaches Neil Francis' face, we'll have to watch sailing on Setanta.
Sorry, just had to get it off my chest.

Finglas Sweet Factory Explosion

Cherchez la ooompah loompah?

Eddie Eddie Eddie....

Does anyone have the address of yer man/woman that whacked the Pakistani cricket manager? We might be able to start a whip around. Now there's a contract negotiation involving the Irish manager which might prove more popularwith the Irish fans.

world leaders

Listening to the news on my phone while on the bus to work this morning, I heard the latest about the very scary situation which has developed in Myanmar. While the powers that be in the region get all muscled up, "world leaders appealed for calm". Which is great. I'm just wondering exactly who these world leaders are and how you qualify to be a world leader? Do you have to pass any exams, do a degree in world leadership? Do they have business cards with their title on it? What are the wages like? If anyone can let me know more about it I'd be very interested in it. I reckon that world leadership mioght be just my kind of thing. I have five kids ranging in age from eight to twenty, so I know all about appealing for calm.

I still have had no takers for Ellie's Pay it Forward project. Does no one want a gift from a future world leader?

Exposing the soft underbelly

The wonderful Ellie posted the following on her website yesterday. who could pass up such an offer?
"There is a book written by Catherine Ryan Hyde called "Pay It Forward", that has been adapted into a film starring Helen Hunt and Kevin Spacey. The premise is simple. When someone does something nice for you in any way you don't pay that person back, you "pay it forward" by doing something nice for another person. It's kind of like the gift that keeps on giving.So here's how the Blog world version of PIF goes.

I'll send a handmade gift (although my gift may not be made by me I will try to make it personal to the recipient )to the first 3 people who leave a comment on my blog saying they want to play. The only thing you have to do in return is "Pay it Forward" by making the same promise on your blog. If you don't have a blog you would be on the honour system of paying it forward in your day to day life. Of course, eventually I'd need your address to send you your goodies, so you'd need to be willing to part with that."
So let me know if you want to partake.

English (Ireland)

What is this English (Ireland) option when picking a language on your computer? does it mean that the spellcheck will recognise feck? That "so it will" or "so it is" at the end of a sentance does not get underlined in green? Does "Bertie" get automatically get capitalised? is an e automatically tagged on to the word "shit" does it automatically italicise "British justice" when it sees it in a sentence?
Does it always insert the word "crucial" into the phrase "another match for Irish soccer team" ?

recategorisation of sports

Ok, time for drastic action. We were always crap at soccer, give or take about four or five years since caveman started kicking stuff around the cave. We've become crap at rugby relatively recently and our international success at other sports are due to a combination of fluke, doping, fixing competitions and novenas. We need to push for the acceptance of some of our natural hobbies as international sports. Irish dancing in the Olympics, A ballad singing world cup, embassy-mooning test matches, sub-contracting marathons, slagging endurance events, Porter swallowing three day eventing. Fleadh-ceol-on-a-single-pair-of-underpants survival competitions. Lowest score in song contest contests.... Come on Ireland where's your fucking pride!

back to business

Busy week. New guitar students vary in age from 12-72, youngest and oldest indistinguishable in terms of enthusiasm, which is nice. Back to gospel choir practice on wednesday, big turnout and everyone is in great form. Our choir leader has had a trying summer. She holds joint Canadian-US citizenship, married to a man who has lived here since his family moved over from Germany when he was 8, but has never changed his german citizenship. So now they are making noises about deportation. Number one son is surfing and making chicken nuggets in Oz. Number two son, is demonstrating in Rossport, and the remainder of the clan are back to school, piano, flute, ballet, Irish dancing, swimming, jiu jitsu and music. The dog has a cough and the cat has furballs. Oh, and we're not allowed to drink the water..............again!

not getting any easier

In the absence of some of my coaching colleagues, I actually had to show my underage team the dynamic stretching excercises I wanted them to do. Wasn't able to get up from a chair yesterday without crying quietly to myself.

scary stereotypes

Coming home over the quincentennial bridge Monday evening haven't dropped my 16 year-old training ninja to ninja school, I saw a Mercedes directly behind me driven by a woman who was plaiting her hair while she drove.

it's not getting any easier

Another birthday last weekend, got a package from eldest son on his year in Australia. He sent me a wooly bobble hat to rub in the fact that our summer is over. He's using the money earned from making chicken nuggets wisely, having bought a bicycle and a surfboard so far. My eldest daughter (13) bought me the new Harry Potter book and my darling wife bought me a couple of shirts with the lines in the direction that are supposed to disguise the fuller figure, (haven't had my bum pinched by any nubile young wans since, so i don't think they're working). Watched some of the rugby of late and have come to the following conclusions:
Connacht should be in the world cup instead of Scotland.
Munster should be there instead of USA
France are cruising without firing on all cylinders yet.
Ireland sould move their training base to Lourdes immediately.

To hell or to Connacht

I notice that Connacht's match v South Africa doesn't merit one sentence on the RTE News website. As someone who marched on IRFU HQ to save Connacht rugby a few years back, It's sad to notice that nothing has changed. Anyway, Well done lads, a great performance

small world

Overheard by boss while shopping in Tesco yesterday:
Glenamaddy customer"We're from Glenamaddy, Do you know it?"
Cashier " no, I'm not from here"
GC"It's about 40 miles away, you head towards Tuam Where are you from anyway?"
C" Australia"
GC "We went to Stockport near Manchester for two weeks. I'd hate to live there. We're going out to a cousin who lives in San Francisco in January. he's gwetting married. Michael McManus. you might know him?"

Vague Reminiscences of the Ayurts Festival

Back at choir practice with the fabulous Galway Gospel Choir last night ahead of our street gig tomorrow lunchtime (1.00 city centre). One of the altos is doing a thesis on the Galway Arts Festival since its inception in the late seventies. In terms of the origin of the Festival in my age riddled mind it was the product of a very active and enlightened students union in UCG which just outgrew the College and spilled onto the streets of the city. Initially the gig scene in Galway improved dramatically, with the likes of Eric Clapton, The Jam, Dr. Feelgood, Graham Parker and the Rumour being brought to town. The small cafeteria on campus became Smokey Joes by night and was the most exciting venue in town, bringing the many of the major players in Ireland's exploding folk scene to town. My first experience of a real gig was with a couple of mates from school (we were fifth years in the Jes), when we played support to a semi-professional Stockton's Wing in the late seventies.Then a natural momentum developed with the enthusiastic leadership of the likes of Ollie Jennings, Pat Boran et al. The gigs outgrew the small terrapin building and moved into the newly built main lecture theatres as Clannad, De Dannann, Freddie White etc did their thing. The Druid Theatre, itself a product of the energy of a group of students, started to shine. At some stage the burden of major funding shifted from the college to the drinks companies and private sector companies and thus it lost its best kept secret status and began to attract non Galwegians. In the early days it seemed to be very much about giving Galway people a chance to be wonderstruck by doing things that shouldn't really have been possible. The main venue was a large tent set up in a field owned by the college, as the city didn't have anything like enough suitable venues for what was being undertaken. The memories aren't clear, it's difficult to put dates on performances, but I remember the buzz on the streets, the anticipation in the weeks before the Festival. Contacting all your friends (by land-line) if you had seen something spectacular that shouldn't be missed. The sense of wonder and amazement like the one that you felt when you saw and heard your first fireworks display.

basting in Brittany

Working away on the lobster colour, on the third book having read candlemoth (not bad, but heavy on the social commentary of 60s usa and the new book by the kite runner guy (sorry! been a lot of rehydration required on a regular basis) excellent! Hitting mid forties does bring it's fair share of anxiety ( as does trying to type with a fucking french keyboard!!). Top of the pile include getting burnt everywhere except that white line directly under the moobs where the sun can never go. Also wondering whether tha thing is a freckle, a mole, or something iffy. There is the anxiety about the extra trips to the bathroom during the night, until you remember that you're drinking more before bed. The worst so far though is the realisation that the thatch is definitely thinning, as the severely scaldy top of head prove...

Noah it's not funny

I'm not one to complain about events outside my control but...for fuck's sake this weather is scary. I was down town yesterday buying some gifts for some Breton buddies we're going to visit and it rained so hard that the rain bounced up eight feet in to the air and fell again! Wet twice by the same shower. It wouldn't happen when Michael D. was minister for fun, I can tell you. Arts Festival my large spotty Arse, it's a fucking ark festival we need in Galway! Bridges washed away in Leenane in Fucking July! I've noticed that Twink has been getting some work subbing on radoi stations of late. I'm not saying that I have categoric proof that both events are related, but why doesn't the country's main crime outer Paul (scumbag) Williams get up off his arse and investigate that? Anyway, I'm off to Carnac for a couple of weeks, which will probably be even wetter than here.

praise the lord and curse the bride

A mini version of the gospel choir (eight of us)sang at a wedding on friday. The wedding was at one so we arrived at 12.00 to do our lalalalalalalalas and tune up and all that stuff. Church started filling at 12.50ish 1 o clock came and a couple of us wondered whether we would have time to climb down for the choir loft and run to the loo and be back in time to sing as herself walked up the isle! We decided to stay put as she could arrive at any minute. Imagine the consternation as we waited until she finally arrived at twenty five past fecking two! As you can imagine the high notes were no problem at all. the service ended at three thirty and we all rushed down the spiral stairs as fast as our tightly clenched knees would let us and speed shuffled to the nearest pub as fast as our scuffed soles would let us. The locals must have raised a few eyebrows as the orgasmic shrieks emanated from the loos!

multicultural city

How Galway has changed over the years. When I was growing up in the sisties, Galway was a big town. Everybody knew you or someone belonging to you and they certainly knew the skeletons in your family closet (be very scared Kav). If you saw a coloured person in the street, they were a Cazabon (who had and continue to have a better Galway accent than 99% of Galwegians). I was looking through the classifieds in a local paper yesterday and came across an advertisement by a qualified shaman! Now there were feck all of those around when I was in short pants (on holidays last year). There was also an ad for a thigh massage.

talking 'bout my generation

Teaching guitar, you get the feeling that you're probably regarded as somewhat cooler than the average parent. Never mind the fact that you don't have a trophy car, a holiday home somewhere warm or go skiing every February, at least you have skills that the average teenager would see as desirable. This consolation quickly evaporates once you get down to the nitty gritty of guitaristy role models. When did you manage to go for the hundred year nap, only to awaken and discover that nobody with the word "teen" in their middle name has ever heard of John Martyn, Eric Clapton, Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson, Andre Segovia, Scullion, Paul Brady, Joan Armatrading or anybody else who ever raised a guitar in anger. In fairness, most of them are delighted to have their eyes opened, and being a part of that process is probably what makes life so enjoyable, but you get the feeling that somebody somewhere is not doing their job. I'm aware that there is some serious talent out there today, but probably only because somebody turned them on to some important pioneers at some stage during their development. If you draw a parallel with the health of the traditional/folk music scene in recent years, which owes a lot to the resurgence in interest by the previous generations, where your Sweeney's Men, Planxty, Bothy Band, De Dannann and many more breathed fresh life into the tradition.

plug

Come to Galway this weekend! The fabulous Galway Gospel Choir are singing at the end of "The Right Hook" which is being broadcast form the Galway Bay Hotel, You might catch a glimpse of the Swearing Lady as she rushes from one social engagement to another and there is no indication that anyone will have to drink water anytime soon! Just bring a helicopter proof umbrella in case it rains doors again.

hum thoughts from abroad

Got a call from Australia as I was heading into work. "Hey Dad, any news? Things are ok here. (pause) Can you tell me on the phone how to tune the guitar to D for that Jose Gonzales Tune?" It's great to feel needed!

journalists in racist slur

I read in yesterday's Irish Times a report that there had been a low turn out in the Congo Elections. How do they get away with that?

jet lag

The normal industrious hum of the office has been interrupted for the past hour or so by the sound of low flying fighter jets. They're practicing for the Salthill air show, which takes place on sunday afternoon. There has been the usual level of controversy in the local media, Complaints about local government funding events that glorify war etc. I'm probably naive, but I generally feel that the event and the practice runs the days before it give us some tiny insight into the plight of the normal people living in warzones. If anything they are probably delivering a stronger anti-war message than those who complain against them in the letters pages of local papers. Maybe i'm missing the point.

love and other traumas

We (the Fabulous Galway Gospel Choir) were just starting our warm up lalalalalalalas last night at rehearsal, when one of the basses ran across the room to the alrtos, dropped on one knee, produced a ring and proposed to his beloved. they got together 14months ago on a choir trip to the French Alps. What was most interesting was the reaction of the women in the general area. It would have been hard to differentiate between the reaction to a very romantic gesture, or a threatening situation. They all went bright red. Some cried. Some took two or three rapid steps away. Loads grabbed for somebody near them and shrieked (thank God it wasn't one of the sopranos!). The men's reaction varied between embarrassed smirks and applause. Anyway, it made for a very animated rehearsal!

cold fish

Question. If Padraig mcCormack has been lying in a freezer in Galway for the past few years, how did he manage to get elected for Fine Gael in Galway Wesht a couple of weeks ago?

seeing chickens bits

Eldest son was in touch from Brisbane over the weekend. He needed a copy of his optician's prescription because he has a medical exam for a job today. He's never worn glasses, doesn't like the idea. he wore lenses for a day or two recently and decided he'd prefer to have bad eyesight. He'll be working in a chicken nugget factory if all goes according to plan. Hasn't bought a guitar or a copy of "songlines" yet but will do so as soon as he gets a job. I have very good eyesight but have never seen Brisbane. Or a chicken nugget factory. He rang again to wish me a happy father's day and to let me know he got the prescription by e-mail.

rtfm

Haha! finally figured out how to edit links. Amazingly, this involved clicking on one of the existing links (confusingly named edit me)and following the instructions on how to edit links. Who'd have thought? My approach to technology is to assume it won't work for me even if it's second nature to everyone else. I have difficulty coming to grips with the need to read instructions, preferring to rely on some type of magical intuition to guide me through technology. The fall back position is a selfdeprecating reference to lack of brain power or you can't teach an old dog new tricks. l largely thought myself to play the guitar from the age of fifteen or thereabouts, primarily from watching and listening to others playing, rather than textbooks etc. and I probably use that too much as a reference for learning. Similarly my first exposure to computers was as a temp in the accounts department of a software company about ten years ago. I literally didn't know how to switch the computer on. Luckily there were some really sound people working there who had great patience. Now every little breakthrough is great fun! My next challenge will be to find out what happened to the photo on my profile, wehich disappeared after a couple of days.

worrying side effects

Went and had my jab for hay fever. Doctor gave me a rather serious look and went through the list of possible side effects, basically saying that taking large doses of steroids was not a great idea in the long term, and suggesting I try a new treatment next year (this year didn't suit because you have to take them two months before hay fever season) OK says I, and bared my buttock for the needle (they really do earn their money, these women). Mission accomplished, I started to walk home. I hadn't gone 150 metres when I was involved in a bizarre and fatal incident. I was hit on the head by a large chick which fell from a tree I was passing. It fell to the pavement, dead. I went home and checked the literature associated with the medication, but couldn't find any reference to kamikaze chick attack as a side effect. Is this another cover up by the pharmaceutical industry? Your thoughts please.

travolta bum

Heading to the doctor today for the annual hay fever injection. I tried everything over the years, every tablet, wild honey, sacrificing chickens etc, but am still left a sneezing, watery eyed, hoarse wreck. Doctor always looks a bit nervous and explains possible mood swings as a side effect. Mind you, at that stage a mood swing could only be upward in direction. Two years ago, my usual GP was on holiday and her locum, a young lady not too long qualified I would guess, wouldn't give me the jab, as she was afraid that the deep muscular injection could lead to "dimpling". She suggested I wait till my usual doc came back from holidays. I went home and told Moira. She laughed for three days.

stingy scammers

Checked my e-mails this morning to discover I had won 500,000 yoyos in a lottery. what's wrong with these people? If they're going to try to scam me, they need to offer me more than the price of a shed in connemara! For shame!

forgetfoot

I've been doing salsa classes with my wife Moira for the last 18 months or so. She started going to lessons and when I told people I was thinking of joining her, they laughed so hard that it sealed the deal. I trundle around the Claddagh hall for an hour every thursday evening for an hour as graceful and attractive as the latest SUV in the hands of Jeremy Clarkson. I've been in the intermediate class for a year now and have discovered that I have the dancing equivalent of a goldfish memory. Steps go in one gill and out the other. It's great. Every week is a voyage of discovery as I don the slidey shoes and venture out to the strains of very strange Spanishy versions of Beatles songs. This amnesia seems to be foot specific. I coach rugby to teenagers, and can name all 40+ players on the squad(after only two years). I play guitar and can remember the names of all the songs that I used to know how to play. I remember most of the digits of my pin numbers most of the time and only call my daughters by each other's names about half the time. What is it with dance?

manners

On the bus across town to work, Monday morning, four young lads get on complete with schoolbags, uniforms and really tight haircuts, ages vary from 10 or 11 down to about 8, I'm guessing. They all cram into two seats conspiritorially and after a brief converstaion one of the older lads starts to describe his weekend which involved:
Running away from two guys in cars because his brother told their sister she had got fat Sneaking out of the house and heading down salthill with a couple of teenage girls after midnight.
Hitting some fellah that he fell over a wall and landed on his dog.
The audience (myself included) listen in complete silence, hanging on every word
Then he turns to the guy sitting next to him and asks" and how was your weekend?".

Sun Spaniards and Sacraments

Busy weekend. Youngest lady did the first communion thang with great style and not too much fuss. Heard from eldest sun(oops freudian slip), who has arrived in Australia much to the relief of his mammy. He spent two days in Bangock and got badly sunburnt, which isn't too bad compared with what he could have ended up with. He's been a biteen obsessed with the fact that it would be winter by the time he got down under and has therefore been sunbathing at every opportunity. He nearly froze his nipples off, stripping every time the sun came out in Galway since Paddy's day. Went to Paco Pena Concert in the Town hall Thatre last night. Magic show. Nine Spaniards onstage creating magical music and dance and making as much noise as a medium sized town after winning the hurling All Ireland. Pity they weren't around last week. I would have voted for them!

voting

Went to the polling station at 7.45am, figuring I'd get there and do my thing before any canvass type people were awake. Voted and went to the bus stop to wait for a bus to work. In the rain. No bus for 45 minutes even though they were scheduled every 15 minutes. Went back to the polling station because I wanted to change my vote to the Greens to get them to sort the busses out, but they wouldn't let me. Bastards

blogging virginity

Having spent months and months reading blogs, I realise now I know absolutely nothing about computers. I think i saved a photo yesterday, meaning to put it on my profile, but its obviously floating out in the blogosphere as we speak. I hope to God it doesn't end up being photoshopped (whatever that is) and winding up on the front page of the Sun as "gay parish priest's secret shame", or worse, shaking Bertie's hand on a poster. Anyway we all survived yesterday's departure, although the house is very quiet. this is added to by the fact that son number two is in Dublin, working with Joe Higgin's election team. I think it must have been all the woody guthrie songs he heard as a child. Still it could have been worse. He heard a lot of John martyn growing up too!

aaargh i'm supposed to be grown up.

Evan,my eldest at 20, is heading off for the seemingly mandatory year in Australia today. It seems to have crept up on me. I mean, when did my baby boy get to this level of independence? It seems like yesterday i was off touring around Europe trying to find myself, only to wake up one morning to find I have a son the same age I was, embarking on a trip i wouldn't have dreamt of back then. Should I start to behave more conservatively and leave the devil-may-care attitude to those young and fit enough to carry it off? Have I been behaving more conservatively for years unbeknownst to myself? Is this where the mid-life crisis kicks in? If so, please shoot me if you see me wedged into a small convertable car in the next decade or so.