Bagpuss RIP

Bagpuss creator Oliver Postgate has died aged 83, his family has confirmed.

So long Oliver Postgate

Creator of the saggy old cloth cat curator.

Pondering puss and his peculiar friends

Making up the memories of my happy childhood.

Mice of the mouse organ, we will fix it

Professor Yaffle, Madeleine, mediating mother.

Yawning feline always at the centre

Baggy, and a bit loose at the seams.

But we loved him.

Normal blog services will resume, just as soon as we move on Friday. Then I'll probably spend a few days trying to find the pc. Then a few days just recovering from the move. Chances are I'll be silent till January. The blogosphere sighs in relief, I know.

Bagpuss RIP

Bagpuss creator Oliver Postgate has died aged 83, his family has confirmed.

So long Oliver Postgate

Creator of the saggy old cloth cat curator.

Pondering puss and his peculiar friends

Making up the memories of my happy childhood.

Mice of the mouse organ, we will fix it

Professor Yaffle, Madeleine, mediating mother.

Yawning feline always at the centre

Baggy, and a bit loose at the seams.

But we loved him.

Normal blog services will resume, just as soon as we move on Friday. Then I'll probably spend a few days trying to find the pc. Then a few days just recovering from the move. Chances are I'll be silent till January. The blogosphere sighs in relief, I know.

Let me eat cake...

Jeez, was I whingy last post.

Don't worry, I won't get all pondery today.

Anyway, had a nice Sunday. Family (sorta) gathered for our annual lynching of persons of colour... Goodness, no, sorry, we gathered for our K(ris) K(indle), not KKK - so easy to get confused when we gets together - family does rather feel like a group of people bound together by hatred... Ah, ha, ha. I'm so funny. Apologies to any family members who happen to be reading this :) I loveeeeee you alllllllllll. And don't forget vouchers, vouchers, vouchers.

Well, yet again I noticed that I ate twice as much as everyone else. I think my excuses for my over indulgence in food are wearing thin. Or should that be wearing fat? Ah, well. Maybe in the new year I'll do something about it... (note I am not saying which new year.... 2020 anyone? By then they'll have to cut a hole in the wall of the house to get me out. I could have my own documentary on Discovery Freak Show.)

On that chirpy note I'll fly.

Ta-ra!

Let me eat cake...

Jeez, was I whingy last post.

Don't worry, I won't get all pondery today.

Anyway, had a nice Sunday. Family (sorta) gathered for our annual lynching of persons of colour... Goodness, no, sorry, we gathered for our K(ris) K(indle), not KKK - so easy to get confused when we gets together - family does rather feel like a group of people bound together by hatred... Ah, ha, ha. I'm so funny. Apologies to any family members who happen to be reading this :) I loveeeeee you alllllllllll. And don't forget vouchers, vouchers, vouchers.

Well, yet again I noticed that I ate twice as much as everyone else. I think my excuses for my over indulgence in food are wearing thin. Or should that be wearing fat? Ah, well. Maybe in the new year I'll do something about it... (note I am not saying which new year.... 2020 anyone? By then they'll have to cut a hole in the wall of the house to get me out. I could have my own documentary on Discovery Freak Show.)

On that chirpy note I'll fly.

Ta-ra!

Saturday Night Feverish

Various Cushions posted like this a few weeks ago, so I thought I'd copy her. As part of our writers group, we do a writing exercise before we start the serious work of telling each other how brilliant we all are.

This week Various suggested we free wrote a piece on a scene that takes place over five seconds.

We had five minutes to write. This is what I came up with:

"He lifts the fork to his mouth. A piece of onion, lemming like, dives from the mini mountain of food and dies - splat - on his tie. His eyes never leave Jeremy Clarkson and that little Hammond bloke on the tv screen. I can see the olive oil slick from the suicidal vegetable spread out, across its paisley graveyard. Clarkson barks. I sigh. I'm so leaving him."

Its short, but I think I like it :)As for the writers group - as mentioned in a number of blogs we had a triumphant visit to Limerick where we showcased our immense poetical talent with the White House Poets. But less was written about the 5am drunken game of Truth or Truth that was played. Now, calm down, calm down, I'm not about to reveal anything :) But it did get me thinking about my past, and people I'd once known. People I hadn't thought about in a while came to mind. I did a little googling, see if anyone was out there. Its funny the things you find out. The most interesting possibly that a guy from my murky past has testified before the US congress. Its on youtube.

So, how should this make me feel? Am I achieving what I want out of life? Are three happy kids and one Jonathan Swift Competition win enough? Of course the happy kids bit is, but that's them, not me. It's Saturday night and soon the telly will auto tune itself back to the X Factor results.

Is that enough?

Saturday Night Feverish

Various Cushions posted like this a few weeks ago, so I thought I'd copy her. As part of our writers group, we do a writing exercise before we start the serious work of telling each other how brilliant we all are.

This week Various suggested we free wrote a piece on a scene that takes place over five seconds.

We had five minutes to write. This is what I came up with:

"He lifts the fork to his mouth. A piece of onion, lemming like, dives from the mini mountain of food and dies - splat - on his tie. His eyes never leave Jeremy Clarkson and that little Hammond bloke on the tv screen. I can see the olive oil slick from the suicidal vegetable spread out, across its paisley graveyard. Clarkson barks. I sigh. I'm so leaving him."

Its short, but I think I like it :)As for the writers group - as mentioned in a number of blogs we had a triumphant visit to Limerick where we showcased our immense poetical talent with the White House Poets. But less was written about the 5am drunken game of Truth or Truth that was played. Now, calm down, calm down, I'm not about to reveal anything :) But it did get me thinking about my past, and people I'd once known. People I hadn't thought about in a while came to mind. I did a little googling, see if anyone was out there. Its funny the things you find out. The most interesting possibly that a guy from my murky past has testified before the US congress. Its on youtube.

So, how should this make me feel? Am I achieving what I want out of life? Are three happy kids and one Jonathan Swift Competition win enough? Of course the happy kids bit is, but that's them, not me. It's Saturday night and soon the telly will auto tune itself back to the X Factor results.

Is that enough?

What happens in Limerick, stays in Limerick

Lucan Writers out on tour!
Guinness, Bud, pour, pour, pour!
Gangsta poetry
Rhyming sophistry
We left them wanting more more more!

What happens in Limerick, stays in Limerick

Lucan Writers out on tour!
Guinness, Bud, pour, pour, pour!
Gangsta poetry
Rhyming sophistry
We left them wanting more more more!

Much Ablog about Nothing

So, I've been trying to write a blog entry for the past few days now, but nothing is really jumping out at me. Yes, contracts were finally signed on the new house. But, yawn, I suspect if I say one more word on the subject everyone I know will make like Murder on the Orient Express and collectively do me in. (Apologies for the Agatha Christie spoiler there...)

I could also write about last Saturdays Shoestring Collective, but, after three glasses of wine, a pint and a half of Guinness, my recollections are a little fuzzy. I remember a lot of laughing - and then a serious cocaine play that put everyone on a downer... ha, ha, only kidding Uiscebot! It was just part of the rollercoaster! We're laughing! We're crying! We're wondering what that bloke is doing with the guitar and peddles...


But, I reckon its been a few days now, the moment has passed for a review.



So, that just leaves funny things the kids said as my staple blog filler. But they've been more sombre lately... far example:

Middle Child(age 6) : Why is grandad working at the weekend?
Me: He has a lot of bills to pay.
Middle Child : When I find my piggy bank I will give him money.
Me: That's really sweet of you, but a hug would be better. Hugs are the the best thing.

Pause.

The voice from the back of the car...

Middle Child : Not starving is better than hugs.

Me: Good point.

Well, I guess this is going to be a blog entry about nothing.

Maybe next time.

Much Ablog about Nothing

So, I've been trying to write a blog entry for the past few days now, but nothing is really jumping out at me. Yes, contracts were finally signed on the new house. But, yawn, I suspect if I say one more word on the subject everyone I know will make like Murder on the Orient Express and collectively do me in. (Apologies for the Agatha Christie spoiler there...)

I could also write about last Saturdays Shoestring Collective, but, after three glasses of wine, a pint and a half of Guinness, my recollections are a little fuzzy. I remember a lot of laughing - and then a serious cocaine play that put everyone on a downer... ha, ha, only kidding Uiscebot! It was just part of the rollercoaster! We're laughing! We're crying! We're wondering what that bloke is doing with the guitar and peddles...


But, I reckon its been a few days now, the moment has passed for a review.



So, that just leaves funny things the kids said as my staple blog filler. But they've been more sombre lately... far example:

Middle Child(age 6) : Why is grandad working at the weekend?
Me: He has a lot of bills to pay.
Middle Child : When I find my piggy bank I will give him money.
Me: That's really sweet of you, but a hug would be better. Hugs are the the best thing.

Pause.

The voice from the back of the car...

Middle Child : Not starving is better than hugs.

Me: Good point.

Well, I guess this is going to be a blog entry about nothing.

Maybe next time.

Sign from above?

Today was meant to be contracts day. Ink the dotted line etc. But our solicitor got sick. So, yet another delay.

I'm expecting a piano to be dropped on her car next. Then perhaps a plague of locusts through her office. A world wide shortage in paper? Barack Obama to introduce a crippling levy on pens?


This all reminds me of that joke/spiritual lesson about the guy who is trapped in his house due to a flood... a guy in a boat goes by and says 'hop aboard, I'll save you'. But the guy in the house says 'no, I'm fine, I've prayed to god, he'll save me.' The waters are rising and a guy on a raft floats by and says' hop aboard I'll save you', and again the bloke in the house says 'No, I'm fine, I've prayed to god, he'll save me.' There is more and more water when a third guy, hanging onto a piece of drift wood goes by and says 'grab on, I'll save you'. But no, our guy declines again 'No, I'm fine, I've prayed to god, he'll save me.' Eventually, the water gets so high, our hero drowns. When he stands in front of god, in heaven, he cries 'I believed in you, I prayed to you, why didn't you save me?!" And God replies, 'I sent a boat, I sent a raft....'

But of course this isn't God trying to stop us signing contracts on our ridiculously expensive house, on one income, in a time of extreme financial uncertainty and recession.

Nope. Not a sign. We'll be fine...


Is that rain I can hear?

Sign from above?

Today was meant to be contracts day. Ink the dotted line etc. But our solicitor got sick. So, yet another delay.

I'm expecting a piano to be dropped on her car next. Then perhaps a plague of locusts through her office. A world wide shortage in paper? Barack Obama to introduce a crippling levy on pens?


This all reminds me of that joke/spiritual lesson about the guy who is trapped in his house due to a flood... a guy in a boat goes by and says 'hop aboard, I'll save you'. But the guy in the house says 'no, I'm fine, I've prayed to god, he'll save me.' The waters are rising and a guy on a raft floats by and says' hop aboard I'll save you', and again the bloke in the house says 'No, I'm fine, I've prayed to god, he'll save me.' There is more and more water when a third guy, hanging onto a piece of drift wood goes by and says 'grab on, I'll save you'. But no, our guy declines again 'No, I'm fine, I've prayed to god, he'll save me.' Eventually, the water gets so high, our hero drowns. When he stands in front of god, in heaven, he cries 'I believed in you, I prayed to you, why didn't you save me?!" And God replies, 'I sent a boat, I sent a raft....'

But of course this isn't God trying to stop us signing contracts on our ridiculously expensive house, on one income, in a time of extreme financial uncertainty and recession.

Nope. Not a sign. We'll be fine...


Is that rain I can hear?

O Tell Me The Truth About Love

O Tell Me The Truth About Love

Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.

WH Auden

O Tell Me The Truth About Love

O Tell Me The Truth About Love

Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.

WH Auden

What I've learnt in the last fortnight...

Yes, I've been quiet. But seeing as 50% of my readership has been in Barbados, what was the point?

Things Domestic Oubliette has learnt in the last couple of weeks

1) She has an ex-boyf who is older than Barack Obama.

2) Her children are surprisingly easy to indoctrinate.

3) You can't park across from a solid white line without incurring a fine. (The Gardai kept that one quiet.)

4) Really, really, wishing one was thin doesn't burn many calories.

5) It was quite funny when her brother called her blog Domestic Omelette.




OK. More tomorrow. Honest.

What I've learnt in the last fortnight...

Yes, I've been quiet. But seeing as 50% of my readership has been in Barbados, what was the point?

Things Domestic Oubliette has learnt in the last couple of weeks

1) She has an ex-boyf who is older than Barack Obama.

2) Her children are surprisingly easy to indoctrinate.

3) You can't park across from a solid white line without incurring a fine. (The Gardai kept that one quiet.)

4) Really, really, wishing one was thin doesn't burn many calories.

5) It was quite funny when her brother called her blog Domestic Omelette.




OK. More tomorrow. Honest.

A Walk in the Park?

So, there we were this weekend.

Not much happening.

My back, feeling it had kept quiet long enough, decided to give out. Pain, discomfort etc, etc. Like the trooper that I am, I took to my bed. Which is only fun for so long really. So, 4pm Sunday afternoon I remember (false memory syndrome anyone?) that gentle exercise is good for bad backs.

Hubbie suggested Lucan Demesne (pronounced DeMezney, none of this Demain nonsense. I mean really...)

We're always forgeting it's there...

Off we troop. Child one on bike. Child two on skateboard. Child three on quad bike. (Okay, baby was in her buggy, but it's a fun image...) Commanding, striding hubbie and pathetic hobbling me. But hey, it was lovely, 'the nature' as child two (by now unsurprisingly off skateboard) called it, was wearing its autumn palette. The 'forever greens', (again as child two called them), beautiful. Offspring on his bike was thrilled to be let lose. Baba, was entranced by all around her, not a peep as she took in the splendid swollen liffey as it rushed over low waterfalls.

There were plenty of people about, also enjoying the invigorating chill and inspiring landscape. I began to forget about about my aching backbone. Not a single child whinged! Really a first! We felt all righteous and perfect.

Well, seeing as we always forget the Demesne is there, we haven't visited it that much. We don't know it as well as the other green spaces we frequent. We'd walked for about 50mins, and pondered, that surely, there was a direct route back to the car park. Yes, of course we should have had a little look at the park map before we set out, but...

No, there is no short walk around the demesne - or if there is we didn't find it.

It was getting dark by now. The baby was no longer thrilled by the wonders of nature around her. She was just cold. Child number one was getting freaked out by the empty park in the dark. The bats didn't help. Oh yes, there were bats. Only child two kept the chin up. Not a complaint, not a moan, and he even came over and rubbed my back every now and then. (Of course he was just aiming for two points on his reward chart once we got home... but should I question his motives? Does the end not justify...?)

The ruined church that was so quaint on our outbound journey was now just plain sinister in the dark. Hubbie had been reduced to carrying the freezing infant - who only wanted to be carried by mama, but sadly the bad back that has prompted this whole escapade prevented me from taking her. Cue 'don't you love me anymore' looks from herself. Her wails must have been audible all the way down the Liffey valley.

Of course, hubbie thought this was a good time to mention the Blair Witch Project.

Have I mentioned the bats?


By the time we crossed back over the liffey, and could faintly see the red beacon of the SPA hotel sign, it was pitch black. If eldest child cycled just too far ahead he disappeared, swallowed up by the shadows. All this accompanied by the sounds of the rushing river beside us and the knowledge that I was the only swimmer in the family. The writer in me started composing the headlines for the papers tomorrow 'Foolish Family Drown!' etc, etc...

The only highlight was child number two's running commentary on how every step was taking pounds off me! He'd look at me in the half light and exclaim 'Mama! You're getting less overweight by the second!" - (we've taught him to say over weight as he is the most pass remarkable five year old around. And if it wasn't for his severe speech delay - which has meant people don't realise what he's saying - he'd have been pulverised by many a sensitive fatty by now.)

After what felt like forever, in reality just under two hours, we made it back to the car park. There, on its ownsome, was our vehicle. As one we collapsed into it. Eldest child swearing never to return to this hideous place. Hubbie a little snappish. Baby just happy that mama could hold her now. Me, wondering, if a two hour epic odyssey around the demesne counted as 'gentle exercise'. Only pollyanna child was cheery - and enquiring whether he'd get three points on his reward chart for being so good.


There was only one thing for this traumatised family. We took ourselves, without delay, to Pistacchio's Italian restaurant in Clondalkin village. Pizza! Risotto! Garlic bread! Coke and beers. Banofee and cappuccini.

Sigh.

That's better.

Shame I undid all the good work and am overweight again. Ah well.

And, interestingly, my back isn't feeling too bad today.

A Walk in the Park?

So, there we were this weekend.

Not much happening.

My back, feeling it had kept quiet long enough, decided to give out. Pain, discomfort etc, etc. Like the trooper that I am, I took to my bed. Which is only fun for so long really. So, 4pm Sunday afternoon I remember (false memory syndrome anyone?) that gentle exercise is good for bad backs.

Hubbie suggested Lucan Demesne (pronounced DeMezney, none of this Demain nonsense. I mean really...)

We're always forgeting it's there...

Off we troop. Child one on bike. Child two on skateboard. Child three on quad bike. (Okay, baby was in her buggy, but it's a fun image...) Commanding, striding hubbie and pathetic hobbling me. But hey, it was lovely, 'the nature' as child two (by now unsurprisingly off skateboard) called it, was wearing its autumn palette. The 'forever greens', (again as child two called them), beautiful. Offspring on his bike was thrilled to be let lose. Baba, was entranced by all around her, not a peep as she took in the splendid swollen liffey as it rushed over low waterfalls.

There were plenty of people about, also enjoying the invigorating chill and inspiring landscape. I began to forget about about my aching backbone. Not a single child whinged! Really a first! We felt all righteous and perfect.

Well, seeing as we always forget the Demesne is there, we haven't visited it that much. We don't know it as well as the other green spaces we frequent. We'd walked for about 50mins, and pondered, that surely, there was a direct route back to the car park. Yes, of course we should have had a little look at the park map before we set out, but...

No, there is no short walk around the demesne - or if there is we didn't find it.

It was getting dark by now. The baby was no longer thrilled by the wonders of nature around her. She was just cold. Child number one was getting freaked out by the empty park in the dark. The bats didn't help. Oh yes, there were bats. Only child two kept the chin up. Not a complaint, not a moan, and he even came over and rubbed my back every now and then. (Of course he was just aiming for two points on his reward chart once we got home... but should I question his motives? Does the end not justify...?)

The ruined church that was so quaint on our outbound journey was now just plain sinister in the dark. Hubbie had been reduced to carrying the freezing infant - who only wanted to be carried by mama, but sadly the bad back that has prompted this whole escapade prevented me from taking her. Cue 'don't you love me anymore' looks from herself. Her wails must have been audible all the way down the Liffey valley.

Of course, hubbie thought this was a good time to mention the Blair Witch Project.

Have I mentioned the bats?


By the time we crossed back over the liffey, and could faintly see the red beacon of the SPA hotel sign, it was pitch black. If eldest child cycled just too far ahead he disappeared, swallowed up by the shadows. All this accompanied by the sounds of the rushing river beside us and the knowledge that I was the only swimmer in the family. The writer in me started composing the headlines for the papers tomorrow 'Foolish Family Drown!' etc, etc...

The only highlight was child number two's running commentary on how every step was taking pounds off me! He'd look at me in the half light and exclaim 'Mama! You're getting less overweight by the second!" - (we've taught him to say over weight as he is the most pass remarkable five year old around. And if it wasn't for his severe speech delay - which has meant people don't realise what he's saying - he'd have been pulverised by many a sensitive fatty by now.)

After what felt like forever, in reality just under two hours, we made it back to the car park. There, on its ownsome, was our vehicle. As one we collapsed into it. Eldest child swearing never to return to this hideous place. Hubbie a little snappish. Baby just happy that mama could hold her now. Me, wondering, if a two hour epic odyssey around the demesne counted as 'gentle exercise'. Only pollyanna child was cheery - and enquiring whether he'd get three points on his reward chart for being so good.


There was only one thing for this traumatised family. We took ourselves, without delay, to Pistacchio's Italian restaurant in Clondalkin village. Pizza! Risotto! Garlic bread! Coke and beers. Banofee and cappuccini.

Sigh.

That's better.

Shame I undid all the good work and am overweight again. Ah well.

And, interestingly, my back isn't feeling too bad today.

Let them eat cake

I have an email to send to Minister Lenihan. It contains this link ... What is Egalitarian?

I have four little words for your budget Mr Lenihan

Grotesque, unbelievable, bizarre and unprecedented.

(Someone you once knew came up with that one...)

Since when was penalising our old people egalitarian? Since when was hitting lower paid families with teenagers in college egalitarian? We all know that education is the route out of poverty, so why on earth were such families hit at least twice? Doubling university charges and taking away of child allowance...

Its like you sought out those with most to lose and laughed in their faces.

I am ashamed that my previous post worried I might not be able to afford my big fancy schamcy house after the budget - cause guess what? Of course we still can. We're only well-paid and middle class -a very needy demographic I think you'd agree.

Shame on your Minister.

Let them eat cake

I have an email to send to Minister Lenihan. It contains this link ... What is Egalitarian?

I have four little words for your budget Mr Lenihan

Grotesque, unbelievable, bizarre and unprecedented.

(Someone you once knew came up with that one...)

Since when was penalising our old people egalitarian? Since when was hitting lower paid families with teenagers in college egalitarian? We all know that education is the route out of poverty, so why on earth were such families hit at least twice? Doubling university charges and taking away of child allowance...

Its like you sought out those with most to lose and laughed in their faces.

I am ashamed that my previous post worried I might not be able to afford my big fancy schamcy house after the budget - cause guess what? Of course we still can. We're only well-paid and middle class -a very needy demographic I think you'd agree.

Shame on your Minister.

The Wispa of Destiny

The budget looms!

Swish, swish goes the Lenihan scythe.

Domestic Oub's dreams in tatters, or a caped fiscal hero in disguise?

Busts and booms, Dooms and glooms.

Long, lenghty sighs.


I'm eating a Wispa here as I write this. It seems appropriate. They too were last so popular when gigantic budget deficits were the seasons economic must have. Is it a sign? Probably.

So, a snap poll

Vote YES! if you think Domestic Oub should go ahead and buy the house of her dreams - risking financial meltdown for her and her family like hasn't been seen since Wall Street traders brewed up sidewalk jam, and economic horror exposed such seams of weakness in men's souls that they allowed themselves to believe the dictator and despot.

Or

Vote No! if you think Domestic Oub should just cop on.

The Wispa of Destiny

The budget looms!

Swish, swish goes the Lenihan scythe.

Domestic Oub's dreams in tatters, or a caped fiscal hero in disguise?

Busts and booms, Dooms and glooms.

Long, lenghty sighs.


I'm eating a Wispa here as I write this. It seems appropriate. They too were last so popular when gigantic budget deficits were the seasons economic must have. Is it a sign? Probably.

So, a snap poll

Vote YES! if you think Domestic Oub should go ahead and buy the house of her dreams - risking financial meltdown for her and her family like hasn't been seen since Wall Street traders brewed up sidewalk jam, and economic horror exposed such seams of weakness in men's souls that they allowed themselves to believe the dictator and despot.

Or

Vote No! if you think Domestic Oub should just cop on.

Golden

Today was grumpy. Maybe it was the rain? Soaked right through to my soul. Or perhaps I just need more sleep.

Today I didn't count my blessings. I willfully miscalculated the lot of them. Instead of counting them I wrote BOOB on the calculator of life.

But this was wrong of me.

As middle son, five years old, said to me today - when mixing up Disney and religion class, confusing, or perhaps amalgamating the baby Jesus and Hercules - 'He was born golden'. What a beautiful phrase, no?

My children are golden, my entire family is golden. I am the luckiest girl alive.

Golden

Today was grumpy. Maybe it was the rain? Soaked right through to my soul. Or perhaps I just need more sleep.

Today I didn't count my blessings. I willfully miscalculated the lot of them. Instead of counting them I wrote BOOB on the calculator of life.

But this was wrong of me.

As middle son, five years old, said to me today - when mixing up Disney and religion class, confusing, or perhaps amalgamating the baby Jesus and Hercules - 'He was born golden'. What a beautiful phrase, no?

My children are golden, my entire family is golden. I am the luckiest girl alive.

YUMMY!

Make this dessert - it will change your life.

Look, no complaints this post! It must be magical!

Instant Berry ‘Ice Cream’

courtesy Lidl Treats blog...

This amount will serve 4 people, generously.

• 1 tub Lidl Mascarpone
• 2 dessert spoons sugar
• Seeds from about 2 inches of fresh vanilla pod or a teaspoon of vanilla essence
• Squeeze of lemon juice
• 1/2 lb frozen berries (I used a mix of raspberry, strawberry and blackcurrant)

Put everything except the berries in the blender and mix until smooth. Add the berries and blend thoroughly.

That’s it. Serve and enjoy!

YUMMY!

Make this dessert - it will change your life.

Look, no complaints this post! It must be magical!

Instant Berry ‘Ice Cream’

courtesy Lidl Treats blog...

This amount will serve 4 people, generously.

• 1 tub Lidl Mascarpone
• 2 dessert spoons sugar
• Seeds from about 2 inches of fresh vanilla pod or a teaspoon of vanilla essence
• Squeeze of lemon juice
• 1/2 lb frozen berries (I used a mix of raspberry, strawberry and blackcurrant)

Put everything except the berries in the blender and mix until smooth. Add the berries and blend thoroughly.

That’s it. Serve and enjoy!

They're Coming to Take Me Away, ha, ha.

Today's Complaint - Mental instability rules today! Arghghghhghg.

So, nothing is ever straight forward. When giving rousing once more unto the breech dear friends speeches at the kitchen table, when those four times tables become too difficult - I stirringly declaim that nothing worth doing is achieved without a lot of hard work! But really, that's just a lot of lies to just get the kids to do their homework...

In reality, everything is completely random and pointless. And hard work to boot.

Yes, I am in a good mood today.

Ah, where to start? Poor elder son's wound turned mean and decided to get infected. Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you're all loosing your lunches reading this... and of course this happened on Sunday. Word of advice - if you're going to get sick on a Sunday, make sure you loose a leg or have a heart attack - trying to get emergency non-emergency (if you get me) care on a Sunday is fraught! We had to schlep into town to find a GP who'd see us... and pay 65 euro for the pleasure. But of course, what price your childs health?!?! Hmm... 50 euro?



Anyway... the other prodding, gouging thorn in my side is that at some point a few months ago, hubbie and I decided, after a huge amount of mind bending drugs obviously, that now was the time to move house!

The world economy was obviously at our drugs binge too, but dropped a little bit too much acid and has been suffering the most seismic bad trip ever, ever since.

In our remorse, we both swear we'll never touch a narcotic again - but we can't quite look each other in the eye, so embarrassed about what went on that night...


Time to be contrite Kavanagh style

Advent

 We have tested and tasted too much, lover--
Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder.
But here in the Advent-darkened room
Where the dry black bread and the sugarless tea
Of penance will charm back the luxury
Of a child's soul, we'll return to Doom
the knowledge we stole but could not use.

(Full poem here)

They're Coming to Take Me Away, ha, ha.

Today's Complaint - Mental instability rules today! Arghghghhghg.

So, nothing is ever straight forward. When giving rousing once more unto the breech dear friends speeches at the kitchen table, when those four times tables become too difficult - I stirringly declaim that nothing worth doing is achieved without a lot of hard work! But really, that's just a lot of lies to just get the kids to do their homework...

In reality, everything is completely random and pointless. And hard work to boot.

Yes, I am in a good mood today.

Ah, where to start? Poor elder son's wound turned mean and decided to get infected. Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you're all loosing your lunches reading this... and of course this happened on Sunday. Word of advice - if you're going to get sick on a Sunday, make sure you loose a leg or have a heart attack - trying to get emergency non-emergency (if you get me) care on a Sunday is fraught! We had to schlep into town to find a GP who'd see us... and pay 65 euro for the pleasure. But of course, what price your childs health?!?! Hmm... 50 euro?



Anyway... the other prodding, gouging thorn in my side is that at some point a few months ago, hubbie and I decided, after a huge amount of mind bending drugs obviously, that now was the time to move house!

The world economy was obviously at our drugs binge too, but dropped a little bit too much acid and has been suffering the most seismic bad trip ever, ever since.

In our remorse, we both swear we'll never touch a narcotic again - but we can't quite look each other in the eye, so embarrassed about what went on that night...


Time to be contrite Kavanagh style

Advent

 We have tested and tasted too much, lover--
Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder.
But here in the Advent-darkened room
Where the dry black bread and the sugarless tea
Of penance will charm back the luxury
Of a child's soul, we'll return to Doom
the knowledge we stole but could not use.

(Full poem here)

Say Cheesy

Hey folks...

I'll regale you all tomorrow about my puss filled infected wound adventures of today (The tab for inappropriate blog material is at the top left, don't all click at once...)

But today, I feel like taking up UisceBot's challenge - "Post links to your own cheesy pics on your blog, myspace or facebook or whatever and I'll pick two first places. One first will go to the best un-ironic pic, and the other first to one that's taken while aware of it's own patheticness. (take one tomorrow, like with flowers and cravats)."

Sadly my brain is too frazzled to work out what exactly UisceBot is looking for... but the first one is a little cheesy, as I think lots of people have the automatic funfair ride pic... but I love this one as both hubbie and I look terrified - and it was soon after this I got all preggers and our lives changed FOREVER!!!! So, I like to think we've both just glimpsed our futures ...



And this one I love because its what photo's are really about. Its completely uncontrived, I look like crap, an auld scrunchie is holding up my hair - but the four most important people in the world to me are there and I've never been happier.


Next posting I shall upload my portfolio from supermodelling days...

Say Cheesy

Hey folks...

I'll regale you all tomorrow about my puss filled infected wound adventures of today (The tab for inappropriate blog material is at the top left, don't all click at once...)

But today, I feel like taking up UisceBot's challenge - "Post links to your own cheesy pics on your blog, myspace or facebook or whatever and I'll pick two first places. One first will go to the best un-ironic pic, and the other first to one that's taken while aware of it's own patheticness. (take one tomorrow, like with flowers and cravats)."

Sadly my brain is too frazzled to work out what exactly UisceBot is looking for... but the first one is a little cheesy, as I think lots of people have the automatic funfair ride pic... but I love this one as both hubbie and I look terrified - and it was soon after this I got all preggers and our lives changed FOREVER!!!! So, I like to think we've both just glimpsed our futures ...



And this one I love because its what photo's are really about. Its completely uncontrived, I look like crap, an auld scrunchie is holding up my hair - but the four most important people in the world to me are there and I've never been happier.


Next posting I shall upload my portfolio from supermodelling days...

Pure Gravy

I feel in the mood for a poem or two today...

Lets kick off with an old fave by Raymond Carver

Gravy

No other word will do. For that's what it was.
Gravy.
Gravy, these past ten years.
Alive, sober, working, loving, and
being loved by a good woman. Eleven years
ago he was told he had six months to live
at the rate he was going. And he was going
nowhere but down. So he changed his ways
somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest?
After that it was all gravy, every minute
of it, up to and including when he was told about,
well, some things that were breaking down and
building up inside his head. "Don't weep for me,"
he said to his friends. "I'm a lucky man.
I've had ten years longer than I or anyone
expected. Pure Gravy. And don't forget it."

Pure Gravy

I feel in the mood for a poem or two today...

Lets kick off with an old fave by Raymond Carver

Gravy

No other word will do. For that's what it was.
Gravy.
Gravy, these past ten years.
Alive, sober, working, loving, and
being loved by a good woman. Eleven years
ago he was told he had six months to live
at the rate he was going. And he was going
nowhere but down. So he changed his ways
somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest?
After that it was all gravy, every minute
of it, up to and including when he was told about,
well, some things that were breaking down and
building up inside his head. "Don't weep for me,"
he said to his friends. "I'm a lucky man.
I've had ten years longer than I or anyone
expected. Pure Gravy. And don't forget it."

Out(of sorts)patient

Well, today is a day I don't want too many of. And for once I had to put my trivial whinging and complaining aside. My poor first born had a hospital visit. I'd hand him the phone to ring Childline if I were to go into details of why he was in hospital - lets just say he can keep kosher with a clean conscience now...
But the poor little mite...

We were in Tallaght Hospital and they were great I have to say, no complaints (No blobs of poo on the wall like last time...), but to see them anaesthetise my baby (real age 7yrs old.)- who is quite upset - is the stuff of running and hiding in the loos for a big maternal cry.

Okay, I must stop now, he's making a break for the phone...(he's weak, I can probably take him..)

Out(of sorts)patient

Well, today is a day I don't want too many of. And for once I had to put my trivial whinging and complaining aside. My poor first born had a hospital visit. I'd hand him the phone to ring Childline if I were to go into details of why he was in hospital - lets just say he can keep kosher with a clean conscience now...
But the poor little mite...

We were in Tallaght Hospital and they were great I have to say, no complaints (No blobs of poo on the wall like last time...), but to see them anaesthetise my baby (real age 7yrs old.)- who is quite upset - is the stuff of running and hiding in the loos for a big maternal cry.

Okay, I must stop now, he's making a break for the phone...(he's weak, I can probably take him..)