Gone Fishin’
Today is this here blog’s 1 year anniversary.
I had set up a blog on January 29, 2008 at 12:09 pm but with very little intention of doing anything with it. Then one fine day last year two fine folk, Andrew and Ruby, dropped by and told me, literally, to get the finger out. That day was the 24th of July 2008. And one year on this blog lives to tell the tale.
There have been 180 posts, 24,589 views and 978 comments in that time. So thanks to everyone who dropped by, lurked, commented, put up with my rants and came back for more. It’s been real.
Seriously though, it’s been most rewarding. I have enjoyed, and will continue to enjoy, the banter and the linkage that has developed over the past year.
On the back of this blog I’ve had a photo of mine published in a very worthy book, DJ’ed at a club night and been asked to write on other sites I love to read. I’ve met some cool people whether in real life or via their blogs; it’s been most excellent.
Most of all this blog has given me a voice that I would not have had otherwise. Oh and the chance to read some very fucking brilliant posts by some very fucking brilliant people. It’s been most interesting. Long may it continue.
Today I’m off on holidays to sunnier climes for a couple of weeks but I shall be back. Renewed, replenished and ready to rant and rave all over again. So until then…
Shine on you crazy diamonds.
As days go…
Today began with an umbrella and ended with the very same umbrella, except a damn sight more windswept. Its fragile spine broken. Feels like an analogy.
No this was not a vintage day by any stretch of the imagination. No no.
I often say “what’s the worst that could happen?”. For once I don’t want to know the answer.
There were lost keys, a ropey ladder and forgotten purposes.
There was frustration, much frustration.
There was a plan to share some love that quickly became an opportunity lost. Lost but in no way gone forever. I’ll make up for it I promise.
There were people being nice. Many of. And me being grateful only in hindsight. I’ll make up for it I promise.
There was a bus that left early. And in so doing leaving me behind.
There was, and is, a sense of trepidation. That ever-ominous “what if…?”.
There was rain. Real rain.
There was a frisky young couple at the bus stop. Heavy petting in a shelter that smelt of piss.
There was the choice of standing in the rain or feeling part of an unwanted threesome. I stood under the shelter. I felt, and still feel, the need to have a shower.
No as days go this was not a vintage one by any stretch of the imagination. No no. And not even the best efforts of Florence and the Machine could make it any better.
But there are promises to keep.
And there will be brighter, finer days.
Soon, real soon. Of that I am certain.
A bit more for luck…
I quite enjoy cooking but often have neither the time nor the ingredients to do it as much as I’d like. But when I do I’m a fucker for throwing in a bit extra here and there. Recipes go out the window and I improvise a great deal. Mostly it works out fine, sometimes with great results. But on the odd occasion the aul meatballs become gloopy or tacos reach near lethal levels of spice explosiveness.
Recently it’s been pointed out to me that that’s how I lead my life in general and I guess it is. Another dash of this, a splash of that. I guess I feel the need to introduce a little of my own personality to the boring rules a recipe imposes. I enjoy trying to make things individual. I’m not one for sticking to the script too much; I find improvisation often gives better results. And even if the results aren’t better… there’s more fun to be had with a different approach.
Life is definitely more interesting when you throw in a little bit more for luck. And sure isn’t it all about the journey and not the destination as Aerosmith once sang?!?
ps. I fucking hate Aerosmith.
Oi, you, NO!!!
Why oh why do young lads in Dublin city centre insist on walking around with their hands wedged down their trousers? Usually centred around the crotch region. Unfortunately I see it so often, every day really. It bugs me something terrible. It’s subhuman, it’s almost surreal, in a knackerish kinda way. And don’t get me started on how unhygienic the whole charade is.
Don’t they realise they look like complete and utter gobshites? Maybe someone should tell them?
Drat, drat and double drat!
I just walked to the shop in the drizzling rain with just a t-shirt on. My sole purpose was to buy milk.
Now I’ve just arrived home, slightly drizzle damp, with a bag full of shopping. I put the kettle on and unpacked the bag of its contents.
And sure enough I forgot to buy the fucking milk. Dagnammit.
A new view of Dublin…
Yesterday evening I had the pleasure of looking at Dublin with fresh eyes. That particular sense of being a tourist in your own city. And that doesn’t happen often enough in Dublin.
I was sitting on the deck of the floating bar and restaurant that is the MV Cill Airne looking back up the Liffey at the impressive new Beckett Bridge and the city beyond. I’d highly recommend it. A nice, breezy pint. A great view. A fantastic way to spend a Dublin evening.
Sparks will fly…
In the course of my working life I regularly work closely with electricians. I have many friends who are electricians; many of whom are currently unemployed due to the collapse in the construction industry here. I am also strongly in favour of unions and their protection of worker’s rights.
Yet I still can not fathom the industrial action currently being taken by electricians. It’s nothing short of crazy and I can’t support it. I’ve read and heard many of their representatives’ arguments and, for me, they don’t stand up at all.
Recently I’ve willingly taken a pay cut. My salary is significantly down on last year. And my job is still not guaranteed beyond the end of the year. Lots of people are in a worse situation than me and I’m fully aware of that. We should be doing everything we can to safeguard jobs. Shame electricians don’t seem to be.
Their action is dangerous and a serious threat to employment at a time where we need to augment competitiveness and protect jobs, not be demanding 11% pay rises.
Plus electricians are paid well enough as is. €22 per hour minimum. That’s before expenses, call out charges, overtime etc are included. That sounds like a fine wage for a trade to me. In the current climate they have no real argument to put theirs and other jobs at risk by closing down sites and premises with pickets.
They really need to cop themselves on and get back to work.
Modjren ways…
I love the way older people say the made-up word modjren in place of the actual word modern. As a way of saying something is contemporary or up-to-date it really has such character; it almost becomes a different word in its right with its own connotations. Quite post-modjren in fact.
