Pundit

I have added a new string to my bow.  Yes, for this weekend, I became a political pundit.  Two of us spent nearly 6 hours on local radio reporting on the count for the Lucan Ward in the Local Authority Elections in South Dublin County and it was a terrific experience.  We had two reporters and a technical man actually attending the count in the Basketball arena in Tallaght who kept us up to date on the  figures and got interviews with a lot of the candidates, and there we were in a steamy studio (the day was roasting and the ‘air-conditioning’ very basic) number- crunching (in a manner of speaking) and trying to predict the order in which the final listings would be made.  I can tell you here and now that my experience in creative writing was a great help, because I have no party affiliations (although, naturally, some preferences) and no ‘insider information’ that could add to the knowledge that I had gleaned from the papers and listening to other radio shows.

We were promised that the first count would be complete at 4 o’clock.  In the event, it was after 8pm before the announcement was made, so we had plenty of time to fill with comment and memories of past counts etc.  and thank goodness I was not the one pressing the buttons to put us on and off air.  Maria, my co-presenter played a blinder in that department.  And Fran, our technician worked the thingamajigs so that we could hear the reporters phoning in.  When our stint  was almost over food arrived and cups of tea – my vocal chords had almost dried up by then, and I was totally exhausted by the time it was over.  (Not a G & T in sight until I got home to my own nest and treated myself somewhat generously).  But the ‘buzz’ was terrific and I was really interested because I know most of the candidates for years.

One of the things that struck me was how nice most of them when they were interviewed.  Campaigning over, there was hardly any of the bombast and repetition of ‘party lines’ we had been hearing for the past few weeks either on the doorstep or on radio and television debates.  Instead they were generous, magnanimous men (we didn’t get an interview with the only woman on the list) who praised one another in victory and commiserated in defeat.  I don’t know how those who do badly coped with the rejection when they find out how far short of the target they fell.  The hours of slogging around estates day after day trying to convince bored or angry residents to put a 1  or 2 opposite their name must have left them totally drained.  The ones who did well will be bolstered by the flush of success, but for the others it must be some come down.

Today we did an hour covering the European Election count which wasn’t at all as demanding, particularly as our ‘roving reporter’ came up with some good interviews and they were nowhere near being able to guess where the final seats would go.  Those results are still not in as I write this.

The turn-out of voters in this area was almost 50% – that means that half of the people didn’t bother to vote.  If they had all turned out I wonder would the results have provided us with a completely different set of victors, or would things have just balanced out?

Anyway, it’s all over for another five years or whatever the duration of a Co. Council is, so its back to the hum-drum for me.  Maybe I’ll start writing again.

Hey! Hey! I’m a Winner

Honoured is the only word that comes to mind!  Selected as a Blog Award-winner by Various.  I’m told I should publish the award, list seven things I like, and issue further awards.

I can’t do the first, so that will have to wait.

What do I like, then?

1.  Sunshine & flowers & birdsong.  Things to nurture the inner self

2.  The buzz, buzz, buzz of the media world that keep the mind alert.

3.  A G & T Sun-downer brimming with ice, preferably outdoors, overlooking the sea while waves crash on the rocks or turn on the sand.  Gives me the courage to share my scintillating conversation with all and sundry.

4.  Grand-daughter’s excited face as she invites me to come and see her play Polonius in a half-hour production of Hamlet on Thursday next. (She’s 10).

5.  Tuscany in late summer, driving on on wonderful roads to visit Sienna – stuffed full of olives and tomatoes and local wine.  Restaurants with crisp white table-cloths and shining glasses and silver cutlery and staff ready to dance attention on me and cater for my every whim. (They don’t come cheap!)

6.  My Visa Card – that makes life possible whatever the bank balance.

7.  Writers Morning in the Library, surrounded by friends and being challenged to pen an interesting piece on an impossible topic.  Not to mention cream buns.

 

 

Blog Awards

Hax Attack (see link on home page).  Such a clever guy this is.

Various: Always fresh and exciting (or at least excited) about something. She’s not a comfortable cushion – but so vivid and colourful!  And such a slave driver.  I don’t know how laid-back Mr VC keeps up with her.

Oubliette: My weird friend who can find philosophy pouring from the mouths of babes and can conjure up a plot from a whisper flying through the air.

Matt Bolton for his intriguing poems.

Beedlemama who I hope will keep us informed about the prospective move to Wicklow – if she can get the car out of the clamp.

Hello? Hello?

Is there anybody there?  No?  I’s 8am, for God’s sake', and the sun is shining and the birds are singing their little hearts out – and you are still asleep?  I’ve been waiting since half past four to have a chat.  I’m exhausted by all this good weather and good humour and you good-for-nothings who have nothing better to do on a Bank Holiday morning than have a rest!  No wonder the country is in the state it’s in (do I mean state as in condition?  I guess so.  We could hardly be in any other State than the one we’re in, but I digress….)

Are you aware that the birds cheat a bit?  At 4.30am they open their little beaks and serenade me.  But at 6.30 not one was to be seen and only some fairly tuneless twittering could be heard.  (Obviously they were on their PCs too).  And by careful scrutiny I discovered that the pair of Luvvie Dovies I’ve been nurturing all spring were cavorting in my neighbours garden (the one around the corner that I can only view by hanging out the window at the front of the house.  The resident there had challenged me last week when I said they were MY doves.  He claimed they were his.  There could have been a nasty day in court if I hadn’t spotted them this morning, double-jobbing in a manner of speaking.   I will have to report them to Social Welfare first thing tomorrow – or should it be Finance, or Justice?  The very idea of them claiming welfare from two houses is dreadful – and who knows where else they’ve been?   Perhaps if I stick my head out the small window in the bathroom I can accumulate further evidence with which to challenge them.

I ventured into the garden in my best negligee to check on my veggie patch and give something to curb their thirst.  My two courgettes are flourishing, although I saw signs that a snail may have been sussing the place out for a more menacing visit tonight.  My half-a-dozen scallions look just about ready to fill a sandwich some day soon – apart from the ones that visiting grand-children seem to have mistaken for sea-side sand yesterday.  They alas are lying sadly stricken in scattered clay.  But the carrots are still healthy enough – all nine of them, squashed together in a tiny pot because I never thought that they would take root.  And my mini-strawberry bush is dotted with delicious looking red fruit shat should make a delectable dinner for visiting elves.

Exhaustion was setting in by now and I when I heard His Majesty (always an early riser) leaving to get the morning paper I decided to head back to the bed and wait for my morning cuppa and and daily serving of world news to stimulate my brain.  Unfortunately, in a fit of indoor-gardening I think that maybe a pint of tater was too much to pour on the cactus plants.  They are looking a bit soggy.  But the wonderful sunshine that has been here for (whisper, in case it hears me) the past three days and looks fairly settled will sort them out in now time.

So, up you get!  I have left everything ready for  you – no chores to be done, so off you go and enjoy!

It’s been a week

I only realised that it was a week since I wrote anything here.  It’s the social whirl in which I live!  All go…

Monday I visited the hospital (again) – nothing new, just ‘come back in 3 months’.  It seems that none of my symptoms are related to my illness – isn’t that great?    I’m sick alright, but not of any of the things that are bothering me.   And it only took 2 1/2 hours queuing up to get that result.  Still, they were all very nice, and I wasn’t paying for the car park.

Conor’s Confirmation on Tuesday – I excused myself from the church part because seats are limited on these occasions and I hate when they all have to move up or squeeze in because Granny is here! (Incidentally I love Confirmations, even thought they go on for ages.  And today’s young man is particularly nice).  Anyway we all went for lunch in a lovely informal happy gathering.

Wednesday is Radio day – a news programme with three lovely friends.  We have a very pleasant hour discussing whatever is in the news at the time.  The publication of the Ryan Report on Industrial Schools/Orphanages etc was not a nice topic but you deal with whatever is on the agenda and it is good to be able to give a point of view.  I have no idea how many people listen – it’s local radio – but we do our best to inform and entertain.  I’m afraid the political scene these days leaves me cold.  Most of the candidates/parties seem only interested in slinging mud at the others and the standard of debate is very poor.

Thursday is Newsletter day – I did a piece about the birds that visit my garden.  Heaven knows they give so much pleasure that they are entitled to be praised.  The place is alive with them – an amazing number of different species.  I wish I knew all the names but I’m afraid my knowledge is very basic.  The Newsletter day begins at around 10am until lunch-time (sometimes later for me because – surprise surprise -I talk too much).  Back again at 7.30 or so until we finish printing sometimes after 10pm.  Thank goodness for modern technology.  It used to be midnight or beyond before we finished.

On Friday there is another radio show – about local events this time.  In between there are grand-children coming in from school to be fed and ferried here or there.  Saturday is Writers Day (this week – it’s once a fortnight and a total joy).   Sundays I collapse!

So, here we are again…..another week started.  I met a woman in the Supermarket today who liked my piece in the Newsletter this week.  That makes it all worthwhile!  Sorry if all this is boring and mundane, but I can only tell it like I see it.  It was a good week!

And Various will be back at the end of this week to entertain you with more up to date stuff or you can check out Oubliette’s You Tube! ‘Mama’ is relaxing in Portugal after her exhausting Rugby season.

Soggy Sunday

I shouldn’t be writing this at all.  I mean, there is no good reason why I should try to encourage you to join me in the awful boredom of this soggy Sunday.

A wet day is a wet day, you might say.  It was bad enough this morning when there was a real shower of rain, bouncing off the windows.  This afternoon just drifted into miserable dampness, grey skies with clouds barely moving as they drift on a small breeze too high up in the heavens to rustle a leaf or cause the pampas grass to sway gracefully.  It’s 9pm now and the first glimmer of light is just appearing towards the south but I think the moon will keep her face hidden as night falls.

Our Christening yesterday was lovely – about thirty of us in the church, at least half of them children.  Baby is just 8 months old and had a ribbon around her tiny strands of golden hair.  Her timing is excellent.  Just as the drops of water were poured over her head she gave a glorious bellow of disapproval, then resumed her normal cheerful countenance.

Eight of us adjourned for lunch to a  hotel by Lough Ennel near Mullingar,  the others went off to start the celebrations, but didn’t plan to eat until later. It would have been nice to go for a walk by the water, through the colourful shrubs, but the rain threatened all the time so we just sat for a while.  The carvery lunch was good and plentiful and came in at less than a tenner each which didn’t do the pocket too much harm as I proffered by Visa (himself wisely can never remember his number).

Manchester United took possession of the FA Cup without scoring a single goal; and Newcastle went down 1 – 0 to Fulham – I kept my eye on the telly in the corner so that I wouldn’t miss any important piece of news.  It’s the journalistic streak in me.  I like to keep my finger on the pulse of the world.

Tomorrow I have a hospital appointment.  It’s pretty damn demoralising when most of ones social engagements begin with a needle extracting blood and end with a “Make another appointment on your way out”.  Time was when a social outing would begin with a Gin & Tonic and finish with a headache!  Oh Dem were de Days!

Im going to tackle the TV again and see if I can force it to entertain me.  I’ve read a book and a half in three days so just can’t concentrate on any more right now.  Oh heck! I’ll pour a G & T and pretend I’m on my way somewhere…….

Scary Sunny Saturday

 

You may well wonder why I’m blogging on such a delightful sunny Saturday while my friends are busy brushing up their writing skills at our Group morning?

Well, I have a day off, that’s why!  Like many a family during this month of May when the ‘Flowers of the Fairest’ are in bloom all over the place (and my courgettes, both of them, are doing very nicely too, thank you for asking) we have a religious milestone to celebrate.  Three, in fact, and all in the one family.

Almost thirteen-year-old girl was confirmed last week.  Nine-year-old boy received his first Holy Communion yesterday with two others from his special school.  And baby-girl will be christened this afternoon.  Isn’t that a lot of things to be thankful for and to enjoy?  A joint party will accommodate cousins and friends at a bun-fight later on in the day.

Mind you, days like this are not without their pit-falls.  Did I get a boy-card or a girl- card for the particular centre of attraction, and did I manage to send them on the right days, and did they arrive in time?  Have I left somebody out or put the wrong gifts in the wrong parcels?  Mistakes like this shouldn’t be important, but they are in these days of sophisticated children who never miss a trick.  No doubt all will be revealed when I see them.  I should have done what the younger folk are doing and waited to bring the cards etc with me.  But one can’t think of everything, can one?

If the sun keeps shining, and I arrive in time, and my feet don’t give out, and my pocket isn’t totally depleted by grasping little fingers I should have a marvellous day.  And by blogging away for myself I’m sure I have contributed to my writing practice and won’t feel guilty for deserting the troops as they share their carefully honed pieces in the lovely room in the Library.

Best be off, time is of the essence…..

Lazy Bloggers

 

As soon as the various cushions scattered themselves abroad the blogging stopped!  No insights into the deep minds of those whose fingers tap out pearls of wisdom for the general edification of the creative writers.

I can understand that many are recovering from the wonderful wedding day where the interior decorating was exciting as cushions of all kinds rotated among the guests and we all raised  glasses to the good health of the bridal couple – some of us perhaps raised our glass a few times more often than was good for our own well being, but I have heard of no disastrous results so far.

Why do weddings make us all dewey-eyed and sentimental?  I suppose it is the eternal hope that love will stay and grow with the years, and that life will be kind.  We are hoping for it for ourselves too, of course, not just for the ‘happy couple’. 

I do hope they enjoyed our gift which was chosen with love and decorated delicately by Oubliette’s flexible fingers. 

I must go now and try and complete the task set last week by the most energetic one among us and create that poem……