Welcome Home

We are just back from two weeks in London with our four children. We all had a great time, there were no incidents or issues to speak of, apart from one late train at Waterloo everything went swimmingly.

We got the ferry back to Dublin. In the arrivals hall the baggage carousel was broken. Outside the terminal there were absolutely no public transport links to the city or anywhere for that matter. There was however no shortage of surly taxi drivers with their painted on “come here till I put the saddle on you” sneers lying intimidatingly up against their vehicles. There was one privately operated bus to Connolly manned by a fella who didn’t know the way to anywhere that was not on his memorized route and could not advise any of the confused tourists about onward travel. There was no information or even basic signage that might have assisted an anxious first time visitor to the country.

At the Luas station in Connolly we were greeted by a dozen or so junkies on a bench intimidating passers by. Beginning at the Four Courts stop the entire carriage was treated to two of Fatima Mansions’ finest teenage progeny racially abusing and threatening a Spanish chap who brushed off them accidentally as the train jerked to a stop at the station. The onward bus, only coming only from the airport was fifteen minutes late at the Red Cow.

It can’t possibly be reasoned or extrapolated from this freakish sequence of minor incidents that Ireland is a shithole, but Jaysus it was quite startling.    

Running

A run takes up a fair chunk of time. It takes me about fifty minutes to run six miles but the preamble; the forraging for suitable socks, locking up the dogs etc. takes at least that again. Then you have the mandatory basking in the smug glow of your accomplishment when you return, striding back and forth, stretching, groaning. That's directly proportionate to the distance you've covered  and is not to be rushed. Only when you've wrung all you can out of that can you contemplate heading for the shower.

It's a big job all told, that's probably why most people don't bother their arse.  

Kilkenny

Kilkenny Arts Festival line up finalised. Check it out here  http://www.kilkennyarts.ie/

It's consoling to think that there is still a functioning real world out there, beyond the unrelenting torrent of bullshit on re engineering collateralised debt obligations and fiscal compacts. A world populated by people who can conceive and stage events as good as this, where political correspondents fear to tread.

Mid Air

Paul Buchanan on Later with Jools Holland a few weeks ago

Let's Talk About Backfiring

I think the green lights on taxis in Dublin are a great idea, it’s easier than ever to avoid the Irish ones.

Van Diesel Land

And of course the solution to the traveller problem is obvious and simple but you won’t hear it floated at any official level. In fact it is precisely because of its obviousness and simplicity that it will never be mentioned at an official level.

A traveller colony. Simple as that. Take any one of those uninhabited islands off the west coast and deploy it as a traveller colony. Round them all up and airlift them over.

The freedom to indulge their cultural pursuits seems to be a big aspiration for them so I’m sure they would be only delighted to have their own territory in which to happily ride their cousins, shite in buckets, disfigure the landscape, abuse animals and assault each other with gardening tools.

It’s a win win. The travellers get the sovereignty they apparently crave, the freedom in which to inculcate their children in violence and criminality and the rest of us never have to see, hear or read about them ever again. I don’t see a flaw.

We could even give the place a name (Bridie’s Vineyard), a flag (a black silhouette of a piebald dying of exhaustion over a green background), a national anthem (Blood, Sweat & Wars), and a unit of currency (the Odd) in which to sell laundered fuel to each other.

Not to blow my own trumpet or anything but this is a great idea. Call your TD, get the wheels in motion.

Lights, Camera, Transaction

If you manage to buy something in Xtra Vision you will receive a receipt with the message “Your transaction was successful” printed on it. The recent transaction wherein my eight year old used a gift card to buy himself a few DVDs was successful. What a relief. I couldn’t begin to quantify the anxiety and stress I felt as we approached the cashier.

What happens if the transaction is not a success? Do they just shake their head mournfully at me and point to the door, do they hand me back a receipt with “Your transaction was a failure” written on it and let that do the talking. Or do two square headed Eastern European gents emerge from behind the counter to flank and escort me out in case I dispute the verdict and decide to make a scene?

Or maybe these messages are more to do with the cultural rather than the commercial aspect of the purchase. Am I more likely to obtain the coveted successful verdict buying something like Three Colours Blue, and am doomed to failure as I head to the counter clutching a copy of The Adjustment Bureau. It might be the case.

I was in Xtra Vision one day a few years ago attempting to buy the film Year One with Jack Black for my six year old. The chap behind the counter needed to be cajoled into letting me buy it as he insisted on reassuring me how bad it was. Cultural stewardship was important to this lad, his sole motivation it seemed. Maybe his star has risen, he’s now running Xtra Vision and these messages are his idea.

He’s on a one man mission to protect us from Drew Barrymore. I suppose it’s possible.