Drama Queen

Our wonderful friend Joan left us yesterday. We all knew she was unwell, but no one expected to lose her so suddenly. Without her, we won't laugh as heartily again. Without her, we won't face life with quite so much courage. Without her, our world has lost it most vibrant colours. We miss you and love you Drama Queen.

Drama Queen

Our wonderful friend Joan left us yesterday. We all knew she was unwell, but no one expected to lose her so suddenly. Without her, we won't laugh as heartily again. Without her, we won't face life with quite so much courage. Without her, our world has lost it most vibrant colours. We miss you and love you Drama Queen.

X-Factor and the meaning of life

Apparently Jeward went to the same school as the Oubliette boys.

The Oubliette boys are thrilled with this information as they are possibly the twins biggest fans. There are tense and difficult arguments in the Oubliette household about the merits of performance versus talent. The kids come down on the side of spectacle, I say, in the end, its got to be about the talent. And Mr Oubliette tears out what little hair is left, tears streaming down his face, wailing and gnashing of teeth begging not to be made watch any more of this rubbish.

Middle philosophical child has decided one thing though that we can all agree upon. He reckons Simon Cowell is unlikely to get into heaven.

The gospel message a few weeks ago - the old rich man, eye of a needle story - made a big impression on him. He felt torn recently when I told him Consultants, of the medical kind, make a lot of money. He thought about it for a while, then decided that as they spend their time helping people, even though they are paid lots of money, they may still get to their eternal reward.

Older, megalomaniac Oubliette son - ironically utterly corrupted by his communion money - has been noticeably silent on the topic.

Anyway, with this recession, there is little fear of this become a problem for the Oubliettes anytime soon.

X-Factor and the meaning of life

Apparently Jeward went to the same school as the Oubliette boys.

The Oubliette boys are thrilled with this information as they are possibly the twins biggest fans. There are tense and difficult arguments in the Oubliette household about the merits of performance versus talent. The kids come down on the side of spectacle, I say, in the end, its got to be about the talent. And Mr Oubliette tears out what little hair is left, tears streaming down his face, wailing and gnashing of teeth begging not to be made watch any more of this rubbish.

Middle philosophical child has decided one thing though that we can all agree upon. He reckons Simon Cowell is unlikely to get into heaven.

The gospel message a few weeks ago - the old rich man, eye of a needle story - made a big impression on him. He felt torn recently when I told him Consultants, of the medical kind, make a lot of money. He thought about it for a while, then decided that as they spend their time helping people, even though they are paid lots of money, they may still get to their eternal reward.

Older, megalomaniac Oubliette son - ironically utterly corrupted by his communion money - has been noticeably silent on the topic.

Anyway, with this recession, there is little fear of this become a problem for the Oubliettes anytime soon.

Brrrr....

I'm bloody freezing. Mr Oubliette has man flu. Baby Oubliette is master classing tantrums.

And with no Poetry Bus to force me to write, I'm not creating anything.

Other than resentment.

I need to go to the shops. With man-flu victim at home, I can do this without the company of crazy baby diva. But, it's only the heat from the (now fixed) laptop battery that's keeping me warm. If I throw off my electronic hot water bottle, then I'll freeze solid. And that's before I even leave the house.

Truly, I have a difficult life.

And maybe I'll even shop unwisely if I ever get to the shops because I'm feeling cold. I might buy chocolate. And cake. And biscuits. My body crying out for the energy they'd provide, to warm me up. Ruin the diet that's only about three hours old.

Disaster.


Any tips on how I can resolve this incredibly awful dilemma will be gratefully received.

Brrrr....

I'm bloody freezing. Mr Oubliette has man flu. Baby Oubliette is master classing tantrums.

And with no Poetry Bus to force me to write, I'm not creating anything.

Other than resentment.

I need to go to the shops. With man-flu victim at home, I can do this without the company of crazy baby diva. But, it's only the heat from the (now fixed) laptop battery that's keeping me warm. If I throw off my electronic hot water bottle, then I'll freeze solid. And that's before I even leave the house.

Truly, I have a difficult life.

And maybe I'll even shop unwisely if I ever get to the shops because I'm feeling cold. I might buy chocolate. And cake. And biscuits. My body crying out for the energy they'd provide, to warm me up. Ruin the diet that's only about three hours old.

Disaster.


Any tips on how I can resolve this incredibly awful dilemma will be gratefully received.

Laptop RIP

Ill laptops - its a theme. First poor Various Cushion suffered the demise of her laptop - now in a case of laptop swine flu, my one has fallen over.

How am I posting, you may ask?

Well, techy Mr Oubliette has worked it so that I get a few minutes on the machine before it dies again. And what am I doing while I have these precious few minutes? Replying to emails that are backing up? No. Doing some writing of the great Irish novel? No.

Instead I am blogging and getting my fix of celeb gossip. Cause, like I'll fall apart if I don't know what John and Edward are getting up to right now!! (Of course I don't need an internet connection to know what they're doing - they're being deluded yet strangely entertaining 24/7 I suspect.)

But there you go.

I should attempt the Everest that is my email now. Wish me luck.

And if you hear a loud bang coming from the west part of Dublin - that'll be the laptop going again.