The Galway Growl

Spring

2011-02-21T16:12:00.002Z

Be very careful out there. Went out to clear away some gardeny shtuff in the first bit of warumth from the sun this year and I came across a worm the size of middling big anaconda! i blame the government.

The facts

2010-05-26T09:36:00.001+01:00

Does shouting FACT! after making a statement make it sound more factual?

What's that about? - part 1

2010-05-24T09:30:00.002+01:00

Buying petrol at a local station, they were offering designer sunglasses for 4.99 with a petrol purchase. What makes them designer glasses? If they weren't designer glasses, would they have three lenses and one ear hoder thingy? your thoughts please.

Where did the time go?

2009-06-27T10:24:00.002+01:00

So Son number two is twenty one next week and is home from London for a few days, thereby ensuring a watertight alibi for the time of the death of the King of Pop. He's being exactly what every young person should be, a political activist. He was a very long baby, according to all the expert mammies twenty one years ago, and remains long today, about 6'3" (don't know what that is in euros)in his fundamentalist sandals. He has long hair and a sporadic beard giving him a look of one of the morte commercially successful apostles,(due to lack of obvious ribs). He still knows everything, which is good, because i started to lose that particular skill when i was about 18. It's nice to have him around have him around the place again, pottering about and playing a few bits and pieces on the piano or guitar, interacting with the other kids, who haven't seen him for six months or so. he's off into town shortly to man some stand complaining about Shell or Iran or the government or riverdance. Fair play to him!

The Weshtern Wampire and the Walwo Race

2009-06-05T09:09:00.004+01:00

So the Volvo Ocean race, or the Walwo race as it's called by my Spiddal friends has proved a remarkabe happening. The city looks great the beaches spotless, the buzz is definately pre-recession decadence, the craic and music first rate. the place is wedged all day and night even by Galway standards, even by race week when the fianna Fail Tint was the place to be standards. Massive Sailing craft in the bay flanked by dozens of hookers and gleoteogs, ribs, dinghies and everything else that floats (apart from human turds, God be with the days) but Oh Lord what weather! Unimaginably wonderful sunshine for the past week! yes! A Whole fucking week of it!!! In Galway!!!! the whole experience has been surreal. The vast majority of Galwegians would have probably assumed it was going to be a flop that would be a further slap in the face to a country deflating quicker than a really quickly deflating baloon. But it's been glorious. The experience is as if someone told you that the real Santa only starts coming to you when you're forty. Everything in the previous thirty nine year's life experience tells you that it's just more bullshit designed to break you're spirit, until you wake up that morning to tjhe most wonderful (insert fantasy here). Fair play to ye walwo People of Galway, each and every one.
Unfortunately the bit of decent weather has me shuffling indoors to my dark smelly crypt for large periods of time due to the emergence of a shitload of pollen which is almost as irritating as canvassing politicians, or the people who canvass for the politicians who are too scared shitless to canvass themselves. Every year sees me snuffling and feeling my way along walls to my doctor's surgery for the annual steroid injection, fearlessly running the risk of arse puckering in the quest for relief. Hot yet this year however. I've been following advice I got from a nun and eating mostly radishes. I know, I know, it sounds like yet another chapter in the clerical abuse report, but so far the jury is out. This week has been the first week I've suffered with symptoms, which is about a month later than usual. now it's also been the wettest May in 14 million years which may be the cause. We'll see (or not as the case may be)

Deceit

2009-05-22T16:36:00.002+01:00

My earliest memory is of looking out of a playpen at my father. He was in the living room carrying on a conversation with my mother who was in the kitchen. She would occasionally miss what he said and would ask him to repeat it. He would rephrase what he had originally said, which i found puzzling, so I assume I had a very limited vocabulary. I knew my mother was asking him to repeat something. I knew he was saying something different the second time around. Whereas I may have been mistaken in then jumping to the conclusion that he was deceiveing her the second time around, it may have been that i could sense something unspoken in his actions. There was a large amount of deceit going on, as we found out later when he left home and married his mistress of many years. however, before this happened, my parents came to an agreement that he would continue to live with us until my sister and i were finished school, so they then cooperated in keeping the deceit going. Growing up, I never had a great level of certainty about what was really going on and who or what to rely on. I remember as a young teenager I spent a lot of time in a friends house, where the several sibling and parents were constantly having standing up rows with each other and storming out and slamming doors, only to resolve their differences minutes later in waves of laughter and hugs. It took me a year or two to figure out that my family was the disfunctional one! but the worst deceit of all took place when I was three and my granfather bought me a red drum with pictures of soldiers on it for my birthday. My parents hid the drumsticks and told me it was a stool. I sat on that drum for a year. Probably explains my distrust of drummers ever since!

pin ups

2009-05-11T12:19:00.002+01:00

Local election fever has kicked in on the streets and the villages of Galway, even if the only feverish people are the candidates i was driving through Oranmore yesterday on a family drive (remember those?) when among the thousands of posters we passed, I noticed a one picturing a young blonde with rather scary lipstick. Underneath her name, slogan, and sundry other information in a font so small that i practically had to park the car and stand onm the roof in order to make it out was the party name, Fianna Fail(The senior party in the current government). It was the first Fianna Fail poster I had seen so far. On another poster in the city centre I spotted a nicely suited, earnest looking gentleman whose face rang a bell. Then I remebered that I had had previous dealings with him many moons ago , in the early eighties when he did a passable line in Moroccan black. Only in Ireland!!

Where does the time go?

2009-05-01T13:03:00.002+01:00

Just about recovered from last weekend spent with 41 12 year old rugby players on a trip to London. We had a great trip, played in Ealing and at London irish. Drank much cider, met my socialist son for a few very nice hours. It was a strange experience visiting the UK the weekend after a visit to France. London and it's environs felt more different, more foreign to me than did La Rochelle. Not sure why. There seems to be a different attitude about the place, as if everybody is within their own bubble and interaction with strangers isn't part of the plan. Eye contact seems to be seen as strange or threatening. Then again...maybe eye contact from a sunburnt hungover rugby coach may not be the most welcome sight in the world. Anyhoo, off to the land of the people who come from Cork for the weekend with the Fabulous Galway Gospel Choir. Other choirs go to the Cork Choral Festival to win. We just go to spread the love and make the world a better place for mankind, while spear tackling everything that looks like another choir.

The joys of good living

2009-04-24T09:03:00.003+01:00

Spent most of last week in France with the Fabulous Galway Gospel Choir. We did two gigs and had a ball with a choir of lunatics from a French choir called Contre Ut et Maree, which means something very clever in French. The frivolity was compounded by the fact that I , being a good little catlick, had given up the dhrink for Lent, (with the exception of St. Patrick's day. Not drinking on the feast of the Patron Saint of Ireland is still a mortal sin, seemingly). I got happily soused on fumes. Roll on November. Heading off with a million under twelve rugby players to London this weekend for a blitz at London Irish. the kids will be fine, it's the half a million parents going with them that worry me!

Up and down the Wesht Coast

2009-04-14T09:57:00.003+01:00

had two journeys over the weekend. Sunday I drove to a funeral in Doonbeg, Kilrush co. Clare, via Gort and Ennistymon, and came back on the coast road through Lahinch, Milltown Malbay, etc. The Burren was spectacularly beautiful in the evening sunshine and the bejewelled sea was a treasure. Monday Morning early left Galway with a car full of sleepy gospel singers in the pissing rain. Mike McGoldrick belted out of the speakers as we headed north through Ballinrobe and as we went on through Mayo towards Castlebar the clouds dispersed. After a quick coffee and pee break we drove on for Belmullet to sing at a wedding. Ry Cooder took over as we took the undulating route northwest through long expanses of bogland with mountains cutting the horizon. The sun beamed down on the countryside. The wedding was lovely, apart from the singing which was, well, lobvely too!:). We were very well looked after by Isobelle and Brian and their friends and family. Came back down the long and winding road with the Beatles singing in sympathy. What had seemed like a couple of chores over the bank holiday weekend ended up being thoroughly enjoyable. Sure It's a greeeeeeat little country really!

Breaking news........Jesus does a runner!

2009-04-07T09:40:00.002+01:00

Daughter number two has a very busy Easter coming up. She's singing in a children's choir at a local church and they're reenacting the stations of the cross on Good Friday, and singing on Easter Sunday. She has been cast as the Good Thief, which she doesn't really know how to react to. I think she likes the idea of the baddy turned good, high street cred quotient and the ability to diss all the other baddies fron her high horse, or in this case... high cross. But when anyone mentions her role she looks straight into their eyes looking for the slightest hint of amusement or mockery. A scary sight I can tell you! Anyway, they went for a practice laat night to find that the kid who was cast as Jesus didn't show up. Pandemonium reigned for about twenty minutes, and the normally beatific lady who looks after the kids tunrned scary as a high priest who smelt a nest of blasphemers. After much soul searching the job was given to an adult who was in the vicinity and had the required level of maturity to accept his destiny or lack of speed needed to do a legger. No wonder Jesus waited till he was no spring chicken before he started stirring the.... hearts and minds. In the meantime keep an eye out for a ten year old fugitive with a long dress and a dodgy beard. Let's be careful out there!

Good News

2009-04-06T12:31:00.002+01:00

So the smart money says that the newspaper industry is bolloxed. We all get our news faster, free and for nothing on the interweb. I buy the paper less regularly. monday and wednesday for the sports supplement, tuesday for the Health supplement (for my lady wife btw) and saturday for the review section, sport, tely guide etc. Don't bother with a sunday except every second week or so, depending on the front page stories, sports reports which interest me, or free dvd. This cut back is not for monetary reasons, although the arse of my trousers ios getting thinner by the day. No. It's because the news is so scary, irritating to maddening and depressing so much of the time.
We need more good news. I know that the common knowledge is that newspapers dedicated to good news stories wouldn't last pissing time, because there are so few that don't involve dogs saving drowning babies and singing frogs or other such wierdness. I believe that there are many more good news stories that could be published that could cheer the world just as long as they didn't have to be true. No problem there, as a large proportion of stories and opinion pieces in the papers habve little or no connection with the truth. So cheer us all up. tell us the good news. Leave a positive post here. Lie through your teeth if necessary. If you can't think of one send money to help me employ some good cheerful liers. you know it makes sense!!

Ears to you Mrs Robinson

2009-04-01T10:53:00.003+01:00

I know the madness that yer man Wincent must have suffered. At present Son number one is eviscerating the bowels of a cheap chinese fiddle, Son number three is practicing singing for his leaving cert musical exam. He selected the six songs for same on the eve of his exam i.e. yesterday. Daughter number one is practicing the piano and singing bloody "Run" for her junior cert exam on Friday in which I'm apparently backing her. Daughter number two practices the piano nicely for about three minutes, comes out and asks if that was twenty minutes, when disabused of that notion she stamps back in and beats the shite out of the poor piano for the remainder of her(and our)sentence. My wife is addicted to Elbow, whioh, though quite pleasant and soulful means I'm scared shitless every time I turn the key in the ignition of the car, in case my head is going to be lifted off by the same Elbow. Add to the mix a barking dog and a persistantly hungry cat, sure wouldn't anyone be into lopping a couple of ears off!

beautiful game?

2009-03-28T22:33:00.002Z

Ireland 1 Bulgaria 1. Ireland score in the first minute run around failing to pass to each other for an hour then score an own goal. Whoever called it a beautiful game should be beaten to death with their own white stick. Speaking of balls, son number three awoke on tuesday morning ready to go to school for his oral french axam, only to find upon looking in the mirror that he had turned into a basketball with legs due to mumps. He tore a ligament in his knee on paddy's day dancing in a pub while his shoe was stuck to the floor by whatever strange brew had been spilt there earlier. Ah, youth is wasted on the young!

What a game

2009-03-22T10:16:00.003Z

Went out to a gig in the Róisin Dubh last night (Paraic Rushe, nice voice, apostolic looking, good backing vocalists and some good original material, most cringingly awful version of Hallelluiah heard so far), walking around many drunk happy people wearing Ireland jersies and enjoying their first cigarettes in years. It was that kind of match. I stayed at home in solitary confinement for the watching it. Didn't want any distractions or anyone to see me in an emotional wipeout. Lucky choice on my part. Fear, frustration, elation, more elation, concern , anger, nausea, ecstasy, blind panic, and relief in that order. Wondering whether it was possible to perform heart massage on onesself. That's it. the country is fucked for good now. We've used up at least ten years woth of good luck by using the Irish mind-meld on that ball for the last kick.

The mandoline mamma

2009-03-19T08:45:00.004Z

In the far off days of the last recession in the late seventies and early eighties, when nobody had any money but we were all delerious apparently, 80% or so of the population were bohemian. There were no credit facilities or ATM machines. You knew on Friday morning exactly how pissed you were going to get that night by checking the contents of your pocket. You wouldn't be spending your money on anything else. There were only about seven cars in the whole province. You didn't need to buy cloths, other than the standard bohemian costume; wooly jumper and jeans. I was always interested in traditional and folk music, so you couldn't have picked a better time to be coming of age.
There was a magical, enchanted dragon's lair of a place in Galway city at the time called Cullen's Bar on Forster Street near the train station, (where the Púcán is now). A night in Cullens was a chance to play a part as an extra in an epic tale of homeric proportions as all kinds of heroes and heroines, gods and demons played out drink fuelled sagas of love, loss, lust, lechery, lunacy and liibidinousness (should have quit while i was ahead). The place drew not only the hardiest of the townies, but a large cohort of Spiddalonians who would have hitch hiked east at some stage during that week. The place would be alive with Thorntons, and Keadys, O' Connaires led by the inimitable sean nós singer Seán, known as 007 and a fair smattering of Conlons on a good night. They were a different breed in those days, living on mackerels, poteen and the chance of a lustful encounter with one of the miriad student teachers who came west in search of a bit of gaeilge. if Des Bishop had tried do do his thing in those days he would have been treated to many a dose of "the shleeping tablet" (Irish for lump hammer). This shower of lunatics were presided over by the regal Mrs Cullen, a lady to her fingertips who beatifically managed to keep something resembling decorum in this smoky wild theatre of dreams.
The pub consisted of one small bar and a back room. In those days there used to be a music session in both rooms every night. The back room was for the serious drinkers and the local heroes on the music scene, where sessions would involve Mickey Finn, Fred Johnson, Charlie Brown, Peter Galligan, a youthful Máirtin O' Connor, a babyfaced Joe Skelton to name but a few. Corky would occasionally launch into his life's opus "The Swan" which always started in the same place, but never ended up in the same place twice. Naj would treat us to some surreal crossover between sean nos dancing and ballet, but no one could remember anything of the dancesteps as one could not look away from the amazing expression on his face while he danced.
The front room session was a different animal entirely. It was about a welcome and setting an atmosphere. a musician catching your eye and giving you a smile as you entered. The music was every bit as full of soul and life and virtuousity, but without the need for genuflecting and silence. These sessions were created by Breda Lewis and her teenaged children Liam on the fiddle and Patsy on the Concertina. Her husband John would regularly join them when he wasn't travelling abroad on business. The session was lively and upbeat, young musicians were welcomed and encouraged, there was time for a chat and a laugh. The many wildly eccentric singers and dancers shape throwers and tragedians were tolerated far above and beyond the call of duty. An occasional lull in the music would coincide with an interesting insence of Consulate menthol cigerette and ganja. Then with a laugh the music would take off again. Breda was the first face you would see when you walked in the door, playing her mandoline as her pride of young lions wove musical patterns in your head. In addition to her family, she was a mother to a generation of young budding musicians. She offered herself as a teacher and a confidant, an cncouraging voice and a friend.
Times changed and life became more complicated, people grew up moved on, Breda and family left Galway for Clare and further afield. Occasionally one would hear tell of what Breda was up to now and then nothing for many years. A friend met her in hospital a year or so ago and was very saddened to see she was unwell. I saw her death notice in the Irish Times on Saint Patricks Day. Breda, I hope the session is as good where you are now as it was in Cullens.

two ra loo rah

2009-03-17T10:07:00.002Z

So. The day begins with a 6.30am pilgrimage to Athenry to have one's arse painted green. Mass follows with the perfunctary mumbling through "Hail glorious Saint Patrick whereupon wife, daughters and dog will attend the Psarade. Home for bacon and cabbage and green jelly (or jello, depending on which side of the snake pool you live on) then on to a rugby match, or thirty rugby matches, to be more correct about it. the club i coach for are playing our city rivals at all age levels from senior to under 7. This will be followed by a music session and pints !!!! (I'm off drink for lent, but seemingly its a sacrilage not to drink on a feast day :) ). then home for a drop of tea and to watch the Simpsons visit to Ireland. then it's off to dance the night away at a Fest noz/Ceili. A combination odf Irish and Breton dancing. (Breton dances are easier to do when you're pissed, which never really made any sense to me.)
Tóg go bog é

Thoughts while adult son practices polkas

2009-03-05T20:08:00.000Z

What did the fiddle ever do to you, you cruel bollocks?

Church and state reunite. Not so blessed are the cheesemakers, however.

2009-02-27T14:24:00.004Z

Ok. So we're fucked. Economically, at least. Plus I have to stop things that will give my doctor a chance to scream abuse at me about cholesterol levels and suchlike, when i pay my annual visit in april to beg for drugs to make the pollen go away. And (always wanted to start a sentence with And, but never had the courage till now), (plus i think this is the first time I've used "fucked" in my blog, soon I'll be able to say c**t and other swearingladyspeak without feeling mortified!), I'm off the drink for Lent. Which got me thinking two things:
A) Don't call it low fat cheese call it Danger! do not put this on toast because it will taste like salted shite!
B) The government should get back into bed with the clergy. (Oops). They could double the length of lent, (oops again) and take all of the money from the trocaire boxes to pay for pensions and death squads for the bankers and stuff, and we could offer up our miserable existance in the meantime instead of marching and waving placards, which has to stop, because:
a) All the good slogans were used by the auld wans last year.
b) there are so many groups marching, that all dates for marching to the Dáil are fully booked tioll 2018, by which time we'll be grand again.

connemarvellous

2009-02-09T22:43:00.002Z

The Fabulous Galway Gospel Choir hit Letterfrack at the weekend for the Tareis na Féile Bride Festival. Stayed at the incredibly fuhnky Old monastery hostel, where we had a feed of beans before proceeding to the church where we did a gig with some wonderful local musicians before heading down the road to hear Neil Toner and his good old boys play some shitkicking bluegrass. Climbed back up to the hostel wejre we sang loudly and into the morning. about half the party made it up Diamond Hill in the morning before chowder was consumed and the big green bus brought us back to Galway

going home over the hill

2009-01-29T22:13:00.006Z

So John Martyn has died. There goes the one time epitome of coolness, the voice that was passion and pain in equal amounts, the best right hand in the business. Rest in Peace John. You'll br missed.

still standing

2009-01-28T11:00:00.002Z

Nearly through January and still solvent, married and sane(ish). Using extra time fairly effectively. Doing some work, putting a few feelers out re. more work, doing a few jobs around the house, organising things a bit more than I used (not my strong point). Being driven mad by son number three, who is allegedly sitting his leaving certificate this june. He has spent an amazing amount of time since reseaching, studying and evaluating, comparing and contrasting..............holidays in July in Greece. Other than that he's remarkably relaxed, which has the opposite effect on his parents' mood. Son number two is protesting happily all around ze United Kingdom and geting (badly) paid for it. Son number one is rowing and studying, but never at the same time, thankfully. Daughter number one is studying and sighing whenever her parents embarass her (the record stands at 54 times in one hour). Daughter number two is stamping her authority on the family and the floor. dog is still afraid of cat and squeaky toys. Cat is afraid of nothing and nobody.

Don't panic

2009-01-13T11:45:00.002Z

New year, new situation. 60% decrease in working hours at the day job (thanks, bord snip!). Looking at alternatives at present. Increasing part time projects in the short term to take up the slack. I tend to be fairly philosophical about these things, never having been one of those "job for life" people. I'm lucky enough to have the skill set to keep the wolf from the door in the short to medium term. the downside to this is probably that you can indefinately put off that serious chat you need to have with yourself! I think I need to invest in an mp3 player. When I'm out and about i generally listen to the radio on my phone, but with hourly updates on the state of the economy i need to change my siltening habits. Bought myself a Christmas present of Ry Cooder's anthology and have bopped my way into 2009!

Happy Christmas

2008-12-24T23:26:00.002Z

Dá mbeadh mileoidean agamsa
Ní bheadh Críost gan cheol anocht
Is é ag teacht ó áras bán a fhlaitheasa
Chuig an mainséar bocht.

Do sheinfinn ceol do chuirfidh gliondar ar a chroi
Ceol nar chualathas riamh ag piobaire sí
Ceol ‘chuirfidh na réalta ag rince i spéartha na hoich’

If I had a melodeon, Christ would not
be without music tonight
when going from His white
heavenly house to the poor stable
I would play music that would put joy in His heart.
Music never heard by a fairy piper.
Music that would put the stars dancing in the night skies.
Eoin O Tuairisc 1919-1982

personalised pressies

2008-12-17T09:15:00.003Z

What's important is that you show that you've put serious thought into your choice of present, right?
Ok. so far I've decided to send Barak a Bob the Builder CD (can we build it? Yes we can!) and Dr.(?) Gillian Keith is getting a bag of my shite in the post any day now. The new love in my wife's life, Gok Wan is getting a pair of braces because, although one may look good naked, one is rarely impressive while displaying plasterers crack or check boxers. Roy Keane's dog Trigger is getting roller blades before his master has the shaggin' feet walked off him.
On another topic, we've just received a directive from the powers that run the educational system in this blessed corner of the world which will revolutionise cost cutting as we know it. Sixty percent or more of people at any meetings must be based elsewhere and must have travelled to the meeting, before ...............any biscuits are provided!
Such inspired thinking gives me great confidence that my 60% reduction in hours of work starting January 1st next will prove extremely temporary. Maybe I should send Batt a few of my Dunnes vouchers

bah humbug me arse!

2008-12-09T12:08:00.001Z

Three little words to bring the rosiness back to your cheeks and put the yodel into yuletide.
Sweary is back!
God help us every one!

flat out

2008-12-05T11:12:00.005Z

Survived November! The maddest month of the year for me in terms of work, as My office administers a huge Science and Technology Festival which runs for two weeks, involving over 20,000 people mostly schoolchildren in lots of activities. I can be seen to panic at anytime night or day if a busload of children pass me anywhere on my travels. It's generally a lot of fun also, but good to get out the other end! December started beeeeeautifully as the Fabulous Galway Gospel Choir supported the Harlem Gospel Choir in a sell-out gig at the Town Hall Theatre on the 1st . Some of us got to sing a few songs onstage with them. We're doing another gig tomorrow night in the Abbey church in Galway at 8.30. January should prove interesting, as my hours of work are being severely reduced due to government cutbacks. At least I'm of an age to remember having lived through a recession before, so I'm not losing too much sleep.

heading the way of all the undead

2008-10-31T09:33:00.002Z

Another bump on the downhill slope. My nine year old asked me whether herself and her buddies can go trick or treating without me watching from behind the bushes/lampposts/parked cars this year. What seemed like a chore is now revealed as having been a perk. sigh...

blue arsed fly

2008-10-22T12:13:00.002+01:00

Rather busy at present, But have had enough time to read my father's recently published autobiography. Interesting if slightly disturbing experience! Incidentally, for those of you in USAland, bookmakers Paddy Power paid out last week on all bets on Obama to win the presidency contest. They put the cost at around one million. On another topic, one question. why do Clare people always ask what the real deadline is, when you give them a deadline?

leprechauns guide to the galaxy

2008-09-17T08:57:00.002+01:00

Cool! Eoin Colfer of Artemis Fowl (Die Hard with Fairies) fame has been asked by Douglas Adam's widow to write a sixth Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy book, as Douglas had always intended the series to have a sixth instalment. I know we've had James Bond and Gone With the Wind continued over the years. Who else would you get to continue writing someone elses series?

miseriness as usual

2008-09-12T09:44:00.003+01:00

The dreaded first week in Saptember has come and gone. The summer is gone and the rain is getting colder. Everyone in our house is back to school/college/work/the couch in front of the television watching daytime soaps and plotting world domination by socialists. We've paid for the school insurance/music/irish dancing/ballet/salsa/piano/gym membership/study sessions/maths and french grinds. I had the job as official bollicker to the Fabulous Galway Gospel Choir, giving bollickings to the people who didn't make enough rehearsals last year, so at least all the misery wasn't one way (heh). Leaving cert boy is thinking he might consider being a teacher. I can think of at least five teachers who would just love to see him getting his ass kicked by a crowd of unruly litte gobshites (or gobshiteens as they are called in the gaeltacht). You could probably earn a fortune by selling tickets to that particular class! The nine year old has further taken over control of the house, telling everybody exactly what they can and can't do and calling everybody "butt-wipe" under her breath if they don't comply quickly enough. Started coaching first years in the old alma mater yesterday and was introduced to my new colleague, a teacher who is trying to make the transition from GAA man to Rugby Bugger (all donations gratefully accepted). I could have sworn he was a leaving cert. Especially as he was wearing a dress shirt and was hung over from the school debs the previous night. Insurance guy called at lunchtime to look at the kitchen floor which is trying its best to recover from a flood resulting from the eejit who installed our new dishwasher not tightening the yoke you're supposed to tighten (hope I'm not getting too technical on ye now). My dad phoned me three times last week totell me he's going to France for a month to harvest his vineyard (Bastard). other than that not much to report.

seaslide

2008-08-27T10:20:00.002+01:00

You live and learn. An evaluation sheet for a summer course run for teachers on the seashore as a learning environment had the helpful comment that there was a health and safety issue with the field trips. The sea weed was very slippy.

highs and lows

2008-08-21T11:46:00.003+01:00

Met a young guy last week who was over on holidays from the States. I went to school with his dad and he introduced himself to me while I was playing music with his uncle, a good friend of mine. Very pleasant, friendly, out going kid, 17 or 18 years old. He went to Dublin for the weekend with his travelling companion. They went clubbing, met some more young American tourists, one of whom had "legal herbal smokes" which he offered around to the assembled. Two days later, the young lad is brought into the psychiatric unit in a very distressed state and was admitted straight away. The boy has no history of any psychiatric problems. His parents flew over straight away, hoping to bring him home, but the hospital say that he will need to remain as an in-patient for at least another week.

Greetings from Atlantis

2008-08-19T10:29:00.004+01:00

Ireland is soon to disappear into the sea. Not soon as in within the next three million years. No. Soon as in during the All-Ireland hurling final, towards the end of September. Belfast had three quarters of the average rainfall for august last Friday, Dublin has had four times the average rainfal so far this month. Galway has been serially pissed on (and pissed off) since Westlife started their mellow submarine tour here in July. I.m all set, with my inflatable lidl kayak under the bed each night as I sleep (not an easy thing do do in a lifejacket). Could be worse, I suppose. I could have a 08 registered convertable in the driveway (snigger). At least we got to dry off briefly this year. Went to Carnac for two weeks in August and had lots of exposure to the orangey ball in the sky. There are a lot of very tense people around the place who haven't had that luxury, having bought that mobile home/chalet in the wesht, north wesht or southwesht. Very dangerous topic of conversation hereabouts. It's unusual for the weather not to be spoken about on a daily basis in Ireland, but now saying the four letter word beginning with R is like playing Russian roulette (which also begins with R. Wow!). Far too many pale twitchy people around for my liking.

Dear google map person

2008-07-16T12:01:00.002+01:00

Hello. You're doing a great job. I wonder if you could do me a little favour while you're at it. Could you keep an eye on the cats on our road when everybody goes to work? Just for a couple of days during the week. I was walking to work this morning and i noticed all the cats on our road were sitting in their respective driveways or gardens. Watching me. It was as if they were waiting to make sure all the humans were out of the way before they started. Doing something. The dog won't get out of bed unless we're at home, so I'm sure he knows there's something afoot. Or apaw. Our cat, Mittens, killed a pigeon that was bigger than himself last week. Feathers everywhere. He's gotten very self confident lately. Hmmm.

athletic support

2008-07-16T08:58:00.002+01:00

I was watching the athletics from Roma last weekend, and saw at least two races where despite the use of a pacemaker the races did not end up being particularly fast. Now I'm no runner, with the exception of the odd bus or last orders occasionally, so I'll have to consult with Fatmammycat or some other professional, but I think I spotted the problem. The pacemaker was running IN FRONT OF the other runners. I reckon if you're going to pay for a pacemaker they should run behind the other runners, preferably with an electric cattle prod or large ridgeback and hurling verbal abuse and threats at those in front. In the good old days, when Ballybane had a butchers shop instead of a roundabout we used to run home with the liver (deliver the liver), chased by two hungry Irish wolfhounds. Not a barrell of laughs, I'll grant you, but by god the liver was fresh when we brought it home (if we brought it home....)

sad day

2008-07-11T10:27:00.002+01:00

Had the terrible misfortune of attending the funeral of a 14 year old yesterday. A lad I had coached in rugby over the past year died suddenly while playing sports in summer camp. During the service the priest itemised a list of some of the boy's experiences and achievements at that terribly tender age, including practically finishing his first novel, which would put many of us to shame. His eleven year old brother, roommate and confidant addressed the huge congregation at length and with great honesty, dignity and a level of insight which belied his years. His schoolmates sang and played music beautifully, though their hearts were fit to burst with grief, experienced at far too young an age. The young buried the young.

The workings of a teenagers mind

2008-07-03T11:31:00.003+01:00

We spent a lovely couple of weeks on a campsite in Carnac last year. We go to Brittany every other year or thereabouts, lots of Breton friends over the years through music etc. 16 going on 17 particularly had a ball, enjoyed a lot of freedom becaurse the campsite was very safe, lots of other 16 going on 17 year olds hanging by the pool etc. So good was the holiday we decide to repeat it this year. 16 going on 17 balks because the older boys didn't HAVE to come on holiday with us when they turned 17. Still with me? Good. Ok. So 16 going on 17 comes home from school in December asking whether he can go on the school skiing trip in the US at Easter. We saw the price, took a deep breath and said "OK, but you will have to come to Brittany with us in the summer" (Main concern being that the house would turn into a complete cess pit and fall down if our three sons were left alone in it for a fortnight) "I'll think about it" says he. Eventually he agrees, but he's left it so long that all the places on skiing trip are filled. sigh..........
Two weeks before skiing trip He comes home to say someone has pulled out of the skiing trip and they're holding the place for him. "Fair enough" we sigh, "provided you come to Brittany. He balks. No way is he going on holiday. "none of the others had to come with you". "True. But none of the thers have ever been on a skiing trip and/or to the US." we counter. We call his bluff, but he hangs tough and doesn't go skiing in the US at Easter.
Last week he says he's going to come to Brittany with us.

your lifejacket is under your seat!

2008-06-24T11:08:00.002+01:00

Things are going from worse to worser around here. Lady wife and daughters sank into the pitch at Pearse Stadium over the weekend while bopping to Shane Ward and Wetlife between thunderstorms. I was nearly killed while driving to collect them, when I was overtaken by two elephants, two giraffes, two wildebeeste etc. Then we're officially told that the recession is cranking up nicely. I had a conversation with a Donegal fisherman which made me feel very angry. He was well past the anger stage. Then I hear that a work colleague (on secondment from school)gets an E mail informing him that the ninth annual contract he's been awaiting from the dept of Education will not be forthcoming. He had regional responsibility for a particular aspect of education in all schools in the county of Galway (some 300 or so). He will be replaced by a national call centre.
On what is maybe a lighter note (or maybe not)last night the Galway City Council in their wisdom (?!) elected the person most hated by city council officials since the dawn of time to be Mayor of Galway.
I purchased a lifejacket and inflatable kayak from Lidl a couple of weeks ago. Inspirational!

Better news

2008-06-05T11:21:00.002+01:00

Read today about a study where 40% of gambling addicts were able to refrain from gambling for a month when on a course of some new drug.
Probably worth a shot at those odds.

Has anybody seen Macdara

2008-05-27T10:21:00.002+01:00

Anyone know what happened to macdara's blog? Has he moved or given up?

lisbon shmisbon

2008-05-23T10:43:00.002+01:00

That's that screwed up anyway. When the rest of Europe come whinging to us about non-ratififeckingcation of their treaties we'll tell them "don't blame us, blame Azerbijan, Finland, Macedonia, San Marino etc. You give our most famous turkey the boo hiss treatment, ye can feck off for yeerselves."
Anyway, eldest son made it home in one piece from the mandatory year in Australia. If he were to be believed, you'd swear it was Siberia he was coming home to. Myself and the three sons went across the road to our local to watch the match Wednesday night. It was the first time we had done so as a group and it was a bit surreal. I felt that we were on the set of a western or something. Good fun.
It's amazing how much fuller the house seems all of a sudden. You'd have thought that the difference between a family of 6 and one of 7 wouldn't be too dramatic, but we now reqlise that it's time to bite the bullet and hire a receptionist, doorman and chauffeur. Let ye not worry about the stinking carcass of the celtic tiger, we'll soon have the economy back on track!

older by degrees.

2008-05-13T12:19:00.003+01:00

Ok. I give up. I'm officially ancient. My 19 year old ickle boy has finished his final exams and if he's to be believed, will be the proud owner of a degree in history and soc and pol (with special expertise in Socialism and anti-Shellism)in the next few weeks. His big brother is on his way back from his Year In Australia. The recently appointed 17 year old is the proud owner of an airsoft gun which arrived in the post looking very menacing yesterday. 14 year old daughter is as usual, displaying a more sensible approach to life than either of her parents, and the baby (9) is getting scarier/less cooperative/better at tantrums on a daily basis. the dog has set a new world record for shedding, having reached four years without missing a day. The cat, however is progressing quite nicely. He has become more affectionate since we bought the new softer duvet. The little things become more important as you trundle downhill.

Socket to me, Monsieur le President

2008-04-23T10:17:00.003+01:00

I've been having too much fun lately to write. The Fabulous Galway Gospel Choir did a couple of gigs over the past fortnight or so. The first featured a guest artiste who is a household name in quite a few houses. Yes folks the very holy James Kilbane sang with us! "It's an awful pity he wasn't born in the States" I thought looking at him in his lovely black suit. "Sure, Hilary or Obama or yer man who makes the chips wouldn't have a chance beside him. He'd be a gorgeous president". Then we did a gig with a French choir, who choreographed and acted out all of their songs. The Parish Priest wondered whether they sang religious songs. Then he read their pamphlet which explained the songs in English and asked no more. I think the ones about the garden gnomes and breastfeeding kittens proved most entertaining. My wife has been so nice and supportive of late, that on Friday, as a special treat, I let her take one of my teeth out. Down to 4 panadol a day now.

april schmool

2008-04-01T12:35:00.002+01:00

Laziness, holiday changes in routine and the fact that the fecking hard drive in my (new!ish! as in 4 month old) pc screamed and died, have combined to make me less communicative than usual. All is well, Passed the twenty two years married mark yesterday, which proves there are saints living amongst us. Eldest has left Oz and will spend another two months on a series of beaches in Thailand on route home. He's already starting to panic about the weather. Number two son is coming close to the end of his final exams and is even grumpier than me. Son number three is back to school after a fortnight's clubbing/gaming/sleeping half the day/asking for money. 14 year old Daughter is independently wealthy, having run an easter craft,song and dance camp for twelve 5-9year olds in our kitchen last week. 9 year old daughter just gets cuter andbossier! Went to the doctor today and left most of my blood in her office as she tried not to snigger when telling me to stop eating crap and stop putting salt an the non-crap that i eat. I'm as healthy as an overweight middleweight trout, but a good buddy got a scare recently so I'm doing the sure-to-be-sure thing.

flexitime in prison

2008-03-07T11:18:00.002Z

I admit it. I was being holier than thou about the GAA. We were having a discussion about thuggery at work this morning and i was harping on about the ability of the gifted GAA player to get away with all sorts of shennanigans on and off hte pitch and the spectators/guards/witnesses all seem to develop amnesia/selective blindness and a spot of wrist slapping is the usual sanction. Then I look at the Irish times online this morning and what tdo I see? two headlines one under the other:
Kearney begins life sentence for murder.
Kearney to play full back on Saturday.

Póltachts for the people

2008-02-29T09:32:00.003Z

I was perusing the Central Statistics Office yearbook for 2007 the other day over a cup of coffee, like you do. It's like the Guinness Book of Records without the gross photographs. Anyway, I notice that the Polish population of Ireland has surpassed 63,000. Further on I notice that the number of people who speak Irish on a daily basis outside school is 53,471. So we should probably start looking at setting up a few Poltachts, where you can go to learn Polish, or build a house if you speak Polish well enough to pass an exam. It's only a matter of time before we have to put a Polish verse onto the God awful "Ireland's call" as they'll make up the front row of our scrum and hopefuly be able to throw the ball in straight. Once the intermarraige between east and west gets going we should be unstoppable. With their work ethic and our charm we'll conquer the world, not to mention the porn industry. We await with interest the father of all pornstars, Seánín Stopavitch!

stolen laptop containing data of over 171,000 blood donors

2008-02-20T12:20:00.002Z

Galwaywegian:
Blood, A+, a bit sticky.
always tries to get a second bottle of Guinness with chat up lines which haven't been used since Frank Sinatra was a boy.

Marry in haste....

2008-02-20T08:41:00.003Z

Feck Yer man Dunne and yer other man Dunphy in pushing the FAI into a decision on our new manager. If we'd waited one more week we could have got Castro! Now there's a fucker who knows a thing or two about defence!

why do they call it cold calling?

2008-02-15T09:16:00.002Z

There should be a seperate room in hell for people who phone us in the evening wanting us to change phonecomapnies/insurancecompanies/alarm companies etc. Preferable in a particularly hot part, next door to the latrines.

Commodores can be saved

2008-02-08T09:35:00.000Z

Great news for mankind.
http://www.reuters.com/article/healthNews/
idUSN0628232520080207?feedType=nl&feedName=ushealth600
(sorry, linky thing won't work)

Lettercrack

2008-02-04T10:55:00.000Z

Bus trip coincided with the Ireland-Italy match, which proved to be a blessing in disguise. Dumped everything at the Old Monastary Hostel and proceeded next door for a rehearsal in the Church, which was small, cold but had a nice warm tone A sculpture dedicated to the boys who lived and died in the infamous reformatory was terribly poignant. An hour or so later we went back to the hostel with our host Leo and his lady wife Claire and had a wonderful veggie meal. We then went to tog out and went back to the Church, which had been heated and transformed, fresh flowers and candles on the windows. The concert went really well, the energy we got from the crowd was palpable, Mick Kinsella played south american tunes, gospel tunes, a Scottish tune and Amazing Grace, during which a lovely lone voice rose up from the audience to join him.
The gig finished, we hit the Bard's Den for a great shit-kicking bluegrass session with Nial Toner, his band and a few friends. Cans were purchased and the session in the hostel went on till half past oblivion.
Next morning three of us made 9.30 mass, had our throats blessed in honour of St Blaise (where was the fecker at 4.30am?). About 8 of us struggled through the snow up to the top of Diamond Hill. The walk is absolutely wonderful and the views make it worth the effort. the trip back was one of those surreal experiences where everyone was in exactly the same state of hungover nervous exhaustion and thing which were probably mildly amusing became hilarious, with people rolling around their seats holding their sides, with tears running down their faces.

Go To Letterfrack! there is an amazing sense of healing about the place and an enthusiasm about arts and music which is totally infectious. Long live the Prince!

lalalalalalala

2008-02-01T10:06:00.000Z

The Fabulous Galway Gospel Choir is heading even westerer this weekend as we have been asked to give a royal command performance in the principality of Letterfrack on Saturday night, where we will be joined by Mick Kinsella of Mick Kinsella fame who will take us on a harmonica journey to the blues. The concert will be followed by a walk to the pub to hear Niall Toner and sidekicks do their bluegrass thang, before we retreat to the old monastery. Anybody left standing will attempt to scale Diamond Hill on Sunday morning. I'll be lucky to make it to base camp for the cure.

No White Smoke

2008-01-23T11:36:00.000Z

Why have Ireland no manager yet, despite enthusiastic searching and outward hopefulness by the powers(?) that be. Bock figured it out yesterday. Someday, when it all comes out, John Waters will thank us.....

stop blogging!

2008-01-23T09:38:00.000Z

Ok, everybody back to work. John Waters said ye were all a bunch of negative wierdo types whose views are poisoning the cybersphere. The cute gerbil-like one said to leave commenting on stuff to people like him, who has an editor to tell him when he's talking shite (as if he ever would talk shite!). In fact I wouldn't be surprised if the blogosphere was responsible for the negativity which stopped people voting for his wonderfully optimistic ditty in the Eurovision, thereby hindering a united Europe, which probably had a knock-on effect of destablising the fecking American economy and bringing the whole economy crashing down around us. Enough with the negative vibes already, as they used to say in Roscommon long ago!

heads down till Paddy's day

2008-01-17T09:22:00.000Z

2008, feck that for a game of cowboys. Wind, rain and poverty. Too many pounds and too few euros. Calls from our 21year old baby boy, complaining about the heat in Cairns, ungrateful little fecker! Visa bills and having to sell my body to get some heating oil. Don't mention bloody sales either if you know what's good for you. The online scrabble addiction hasn't got any better. I'm also the only person in Galway who hasn't caught the dreaded flu, and the paranoia has got to the stage that I'm running away from anyone who looks like they might speak to me. Number two son is deeply depressed that college has restarted and he's not sure that he'll be able to remove his arse from the couch where he's been stewing in his own juices since late December. The dog still thinks he's a cat and the cat still thinks that we're his lazy, good-for nothing servants. Happy new year!

goodbye to all that

2007-12-31T19:45:00.000Z

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

2007-12-21T09:50:00.000Z

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

2007-12-17T09:44:00.000Z

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

2007-12-14T12:32:00.000Z

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!

2007-12-11T15:25:00.000Z

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

2007-12-07T12:31:00.000Z

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.

2007-12-04T09:58:00.000Z

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

2007-12-03T11:14:00.000Z

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

2007-11-26T11:30:00.000Z

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

2007-11-22T12:48:00.001Z

can't talk now. running Science Festival.

Scary stories

2007-10-31T11:50:00.000Z

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

2007-10-18T09:23:00.000+01:00

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

2007-10-15T11:31:00.000+01:00

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

2007-10-04T09:23:00.000+01:00

Cherchez la ooompah loompah?

Eddie Eddie Eddie....

2007-10-01T12:01:00.000+01:00

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

2007-09-27T09:28:00.000+01:00

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

2007-09-20T12:01:00.000+01:00

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)

2007-09-19T11:19:00.000+01:00

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

2007-09-17T11:00:00.000+01:00

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

2007-09-14T11:28:00.000+01:00

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

2007-09-10T12:26:00.000+01:00

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

2007-09-05T11:24:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-28T10:26:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-22T10:31:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-21T10:45:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-14T09:36:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-28T12:28:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-20T09:15:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-16T12:03:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-05T11:09:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-03T10:43:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-29T09:09:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-27T08:57:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-26T10:13:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-22T10:58:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-21T11:20:00.001+01:00

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

2007-06-20T09:56:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-18T12:24:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-15T11:23:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-12T10:09:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-07T09:06:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-06T09:02:00.000+01:00

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

2007-05-31T12:26:00.000+01:00

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

2007-05-29T11:24:00.000+01:00

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?".