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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.