Cakes and boys and other ramblings of an Irish Mammy

I love this too much not to post it.

2012-02-02T15:15:00.004Z

I have another blog and a business page but every now and then I make a cake I love so much that I want it here for me. This is one such cake. Made for #3's school cake sale tomorrow. Kids have to guess how many smarties are in it!

Drinking Diary?

2012-02-01T20:57:00.000Z

I met, along with two friends, a reporter who is working on a tv show for RTE on drinking in Ireland. Apparently I don't drink the right kind of drink (wine) or enough of it (more than a glass a night) to be any use to her. Shame. I could have been famous. Damn, if only I drank wine every night.

Yup. Turns out that most mammies sit down after getting the kids to bed and the house tidied to have a glass of wine and watch whatever their poison is on telly.

I get the kids to bed and the house tidied and surf the web. My way of relaxing is to fall down the rabbit hole of google.

But maybe it has something to do with my tipple of choice? I'm a whiskey drinker (I also like tequila - strong flavours??). Occasionally I drink wine but . . . gives me a headache and I get hammered on it. Jesus, nothing like a wine hangover, shudder.

Maybe I'm very boring or maybe it's because I'm prone to migraine (hangover is just another headache after all) or maybe it's because my da drank. .. I don't know but for whatever reason I seem to be one of the few women who don't sit down in the evening to a glass of wine. I don't even have wine with my Sunday roast!! Feel like I'm on the margins here.

Have posted on Face book to see if I'm all alone here. Not that I mind being on my own but surely not everyone sits down with a glass of Chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, pinot grigio (although I do like a glass of Pinot in the summer) or . . . I dunno, don't drink wine remember? Can't remember all the different types.

Himself and myself will have the odd beer, especially if it's sunny and night time. I love a cold beer, I love drinking with friends but for some insane reason I don't like drinking at home. Even when friends come over, I'll have a few drinks with them and then STOP. I'll make sure they're well looked after but I'm grand thanks. If I go to other people's houses, same thing. To me it's all about going into town. The Saturday before my birthday last year myself and Himself legged it into the Stag's Head to have a drink before noon. It was such a novelty to be both in town and having a drink. Normally one of us is driving or the kids are with us and there is no fun in having a Jemmie if you're being hassled by cries of 'I'm bored'. Besides which I don't like kids in pubs.

So? Am I boring or simply another side to the coin of drinking in Ireland? Surely not every women is sliding into a bottle of vino every night?

Let me know, will ya?

2012-01-31T22:43:00.000Z

Himself told me about this photo a couple of months ago. I came across it today, it's one of the most profound things I have ever heard.

Would love to have been him at that moment in time.

Michael Collins, the Command Module Pilot on Apollo 11 took this photograph as Neil and Buzz were returning from their excursion to the surface of the moon. When asked what he was thinking when he took the photo he said "this picture includes every human being in the universe except me".

Chicken Soup, it's good for the soul don'cha know.

2012-01-31T21:49:00.003Z

Himself does a great roast chicken. I do great things with the bits left over. I make a mean chicken stock,, chicken risotto and now .. . . a great Leftover Roast Chicken Soup!

You'll need:

Approx. 400g leftover roast chicken. Leg meat is especially tasty but strip your chicken of all meat.

2 onions, diced.

3 carrots, diced.

1.4L of chicken stock (I use 3 stockpot things from Knorr. I add the water directly to the soup and drop the contents of the pots in).

1 tbsp olive oil

Sprig of thyme - my kids hate it, I love it. They get what they're given!

If you want even more flavour you can make up the following and swirl it into the soup.

3 tbsp of Greek Yoghurt.
1 crushed garlic clove.
Squeeze of lemon juice.

Then you:

Heat the olive oil in a large heavy pot. Add the onions, carrots and thyme and saute for about 15 minutes. Stir in the stock, bring to the boil before covering and simmering for ten minutes.
Add the chicken then remove half of what's in the pot and puree what's left with a stick blender (I actually stick the soup I take out of the pot into my blender as don't have a stick one). Tip back into the pan with the rest of the soup, season and simmer for five minutes until heated through.

You can then:

Mix the yoghurt, garlic and lemon juice together, swirl into the bowls of soup and serve.

Like, seriously????

2012-01-31T21:31:00.000Z

Harumph!!

This is the boys bin.

It lives outside their room.

It only moves when I bring it downstairs to empty it.

Yep! Their bin yet I empty it, which is fine as they are only 6, 7 and 10.

But.

When I empty it and leave it in the middle of the stairs and they each step around it to get to their rooms and change out of their uniforms? Well, it makes me smile.

They stepped over it on their way back down too.

I sent them up and down a couple of times to see what would happen, would they notice the bin.

They didn't.

I put it back up outside their room.

SWINES.

Frustration

2012-01-30T20:46:00.000Z

Jesus. Am so angry and pissed off I am literally spitting. Had the terribly nice people from my bank on today. I felt I should ring them as they had sent quite an irate letter over the state of my credit card bill.

It is in a state by the way, maxed out and over the limit.

They also told me, nay, INSTRUCTED me NOT TO USE THE CARD AS "IT WILL BE DECLINED". Haven't they been paying attention? It hasn't been used in over 12 months. I've naive but not that sodding stupid.

But, it is the only debt I have so it wasn't keeping me awake at night.

Since Himself was made redundant 3 years ago we've had to use the cards for such luxuries as food, Christmas, shoes for the kids (the occasional pair for me), house insurance and car tax and insurance. So, it's been upping and upping.

I owe, gulp, just shy of ?k. Yes, that's ?K on a credit card. A mind boggling amount to me to be honest as I had always paid my card off in full every month. So to have this debt slowly increasing month by month . . well, it's been keeping me awake.

Did I mention it's the only debt I have. At 39 I own everything around me. Okay, so I have sod all savings but, besides the card, I also have no debt and I own my house.

So I am so pissed off at being told by the bank to get my house in order or I am going to be declared 'a bad debt' which means I will be unable to borrow money from any lender for five years. I wouldn't mind if I wasn't making any effort in paying this bill because I am. I do my best to make a payment every month but what I pay off is immediately racked up again in interest. A vicious, bloody circle.

So, I owe ?K and the banks owe billions. Many millions of millions. The Bankers took a gamble with their cash and we, Joe Soap, have to cover their cock ups but when I fuck up I'm left high and dry and with a, soon to be, brutal credit rating.
Me. I'm going to be declared a bad debt yet those (bankers/builders/politicians/whomever's name fits) who bankrupted the country are still sitting in their nice houses, most of them have received a nice 'goodbye bonus' and they don't have a 'bad debt' tag hanging over their heads. So unfair. So unfair.

So unfair as I never borrowed. Not more than I could pay back anyway and here I am. Dealing with irate bank officials who have decided to ring me on a weekly basis.

Very unfair. I want to come back in my life as a Banker. A happy, care-free, country ruining bloody wanker, sorry, banker.

Whomp /

2012-01-28T21:39:00.000Z

That's the noise that #1 made when he hit the floor today.

It's also the noise my heart made as it shot into my mouth.

He was competing in the All Ireland Judo Championships in Galway and he was up against the best kids going and, thanks to a whopping .9kg, up against kids who were up to 2kg heavier than him.

Poor bugger. He was so upset when we got there as there was so much going on and everyone seemed to know everyone else and he was one of three from Portmarnock there. One of the three best kids if you don't mind me bragging.

Anyway, he explained the rules of scoring and I had a complete 'who's on first, watt's on second' moment as . . . the idea is to get Ippon, 10 points. This is when you throw someone so perfectly they land on their back. You can get a get a Yuko by throwing someone so that they land on their side, this is worth 5 points. Now, a throw where you get someone on their back but . . well, not with all that much force . . that merits a Waza-ari (if it was a better throw it would be Ippon). Oh, and that Waza-ari is worth 7 points. But, here's the thing. No amount of Yukos can EVER beat a Waza-ari. And two Wazi-aris can make Ippon ( even though 2 x 7, to me, equals 14???).

Oh, and you can also score Ippon by pinning your opponant to the mat for 25 seconds. A pin lasting for less than 25 seconds, but more than 20 seconds scores waza-ari and one lasting less than 20 seconds but more than 15 seconds scores yuko.

You following me? See? Who's on first?

Anyway, #1 had two fights and the first one was over as I blinked with him being thrown and the second fight lasted a few seconds longer but .. . he still lost. He was gutted.

All the kids who lost were gutted. It hurt to see so many upset youngsters. Apparently, allegedly, it's character building so I shall wait and see how that plays out.

Once he got over the upset, and the sore shoulder from being hurled to the ground, he was happy enough to commit to competing in Kilkenny in a month or so.

To cheer him up we took him into Galway to prove it is always raining there and took him to the pub to watch the match and enjoy a big plate of Irish Stew.

p.s. When #1 was in my belly many, many moons ago we went to Galway to visit friends who lived there and I went into this lovely shop called 'Wooden Heart' and bought a little zippy bag with gorgeous little things representing the letters of the alphabet in it. You know, 'a is for apple', 'y is for yacht' etc. The shop is still there and it still sells beautiful toys so go visit it should you be in beautiful, but rainy, Galway.

Whooop whoop

2012-01-27T16:59:00.000Z

It's been too long since me and Ms. Urban Stems went to the Flea together so this Sunday we're heading off to play. So excited. Mrs. C. is coming along too and if I could locate Mrs. M it would be utterly fantastic. Unfortunately # 1 can't come this time as he, his brothers and his dad are off to see Raiders at the IFI. It was meant to be a whole family thing but I begged and pleaded and . . . I'm going to the Flea.

# 3

2012-01-26T16:26:00.000Z

# 3 is apparently (allegedly) "a wonderful child to have in one's class. He is respectful, gets on well with everyone and his work is fantastic. His writing needs a bit of work but over all he is a joy to have around." Ms. F. Snr. Infants Teacher.

This is my # 3 she is talking about?! My megalomaniac? My son , who breaks controllers if he is beaten in a game, sit back and lets others win in his class!? The little shite who refuses to give in and give up when he's losing an argument acquiesces beautifully in Rm. 14. The boy who refuses to listen when he's not interested here would never be so rude as to do that to Ms. F. Lucky Ms. F.

Dumbfounded. But, would rather a house devil and a street angel. The fact that no one believes you when you start tearing your hair out wailing and weeping because they have driven you to distraction is worth it. Apparently. Well done, # 3.

The benefit of avoiding thinking about something is . .

2012-01-23T11:37:00.002Z

. . . you end up with a very tidy house and the Borrowed Boy begs for mercy ("no more walking, Niamh??") as you drag him back out to walk to the shops. Again.

It's my mam's anniversary today. 15 years since I've seen her and .. well, it gets easier but sadder too because you can't remember sounds and smells, but that is life.

It's also her birthday and I know, like, REALLY KNOW she would love these little geezers as much as I do. I saw them yesterday in our local Pet Shop and they blew me away. They look like something from Totoro, one of the best movies ever btw.

They're a type of Salamadar called Axoloti and they are freakishly beautiful. I want them and I know my ma would want them too. Look at the little fronds on their heads??? I mean, have you ever seen anything so pretty?

So Mam, Happy Birthday wherever you are. Feel free to stop by and see us enjoy the cake we're having on your behalf.

Source

Remember the latest addiction I was telling you about?

2012-01-21T12:38:00.002Z

Well? It's Pinterest by the way and I love it. Love the way I can store all the stuff I come across online and stash it somewhere where I can find it again.

Thing is, whilst dozing and dreaming this morning I dreamt I was in a graveyard (out to dinner last night and we were talking about graveyards, as you do) and it was somewhere near the sea. I'd come out into it via a kitchen and it was beautiful. The sea was grey and there were two headstones and this beautiful little wrought iron staircase that went to nowhere. There were flowers entwined it in and it was really, really pretty. All I could think of was "shit, where's my camera? That would make a great photo on Pinterest."

Time to step away from the 'puter.

source? Unsure but needless to say I found it on Pinterest!

Chugga chugga chooo chooooo

2012-01-19T19:12:00.001Z

When the kids started back at school after their Christmas hols I decided that there would be no telly on in the house until 5.30 at the earliest.

If they get their homework finished by 4 that means they have an hour and a half before they can turn on the box.

It was meant to be fun.

It's not.

For me.

Okay, so they've rediscovered dozens of toys they had forgotten all about (which was kind've the plan at the start - tonnes of stuff and none of it looked at from one end of the year til the next). Thing is, they all want to play with the one thing and they all have different ideas of how it should be played with.

# 3 got a trainset down from uptstairs (it was originally given to #1 by his nana and Paddy when he was one and a bit) and started to set it up. Which of course meant that #s 1 and 2 had to jump on board, pardon the pun, and tell him what he was doing wrong and they then started to build their own bits of track. Which meant there wasn't enough track for #3, who had brought it down in the first place.

So # 2 went upstairs and got the dinosaurs and decided that he would make a city out of building blogs and the dinosarus would pretend it was Tokyo and trash the place. The Borrowed Boy liked this plan.

All hell broke out. Two small boys and a box of dinosaurs kicking everything over and two slightly bigger boys threatening to batter them if they didn't stop.

So.

An hour and a half later everyone is watching the telly and it's up to me to dismantle Tokyo, retrieve the trains and track from behind the sofa and tidy it all away. This no telly lark is hard work.

Damn. I have a new addiction

2012-01-17T21:24:00.004Z

Like a serious addiction. I'm sure everyone has heard of pinterest but I only heard about it a couple of days ago and I'm now hooked.

Basically it's like a huge Pin Board where you can scour other people's work/posted items and pin them on a board of your own - a mood board? Life board?

Either way it's feckin' addictive. So between that and the evil cake witches I'm not getting a minute, which is alright because too much time to think at the moment won't do anyone any good.

Have been cooking up a storm so shall post photos tomorrow, recipes too, of the delicious food we're eating. Soups. Chicken soups. Good for the soul, right?

A compliment asked for is never worth getting!

2012-01-16T22:01:00.004Z

The other day I was driving the lads home from school and whilst waiting to turn right a very yummy mummy walked past the car. I noticed #1 clocking her and I asked "Am I a pretty mammy?" to which # 1 said "yeah, really be-oooo-ti-ful". #3 said "you're the prettiest mammy in the whole world" and from # 2?

Silence.

The kind of silence that fills a void.

Endless silence.

So, I asked him "Hey, Oz, am I pretty?" To which he replied: " .......... yeah, you're alright!"

Moral of story? Don't go hustling for compliments when up against the yummiest of mummies.

I love this

2012-01-05T23:15:00.004Z

A good friend posted this to me yesterday. I think it is fantastic.

Afternoon Tea

2012-01-03T23:14:00.001Z

We went to the Zoo last Saturday to see if what could be the 1,000,000th visitor. We weren't, but it's alright. We had a blast as usual. But what we didn't do, as we usually do, is have something to eat in the zoo cafe. The zoo rocks but it's cafe is pants. Seriously, pants!! Everything is kept warm on bain marie heaters and therefore is limp and just a tad rubbery when you order. Plus, enough with the chicken nuggets and chips for kids. Kids like 'adult' food too. But only if it's good adult food. It's also a bit expensive so .. .

This time we went to The Phoenix Park Tea Rooms and it was fabulous, dahling.

Any time I've tried to get in there it's been packed and too wet to sit outside. I do remember sitting outside last year, in the freezing cold enjoying a really, really good cup of tea though.

This time? We got in. Myself, the three lads and Himself all sitting at a table in the dinkiest cafe ever. The boys had homemade scones with the 'delicious-i-est' ever jam and cream and Himself and myself had a panino. A breakfast panino.

I know it was lunchtime but it was my breakfast as the kids were savages and used ALL the maple syrup and there was none for my pancakes and I had a hissy fit and they each blamed each other (apparently it was no. 3 who was the guttsiest of them all ) and I burst into tears and . . . I know! Drama Queen!!! I was really looking forward to pancakes you see and . . yeah, yeah, no excuses. I threw a tantrum.

Back to the Tea Rooms. A Breakfast Panino where they didn't skimp on the filling and it came with a nice side salad and a big pot of tea (for me) and coffee (for Himself).

It was delicious, the staff were lovely and everyone (because the place really is tiny) were really helpful with passing stuff and moving stuff and it was a lovely way to spend an hour.

Got to get some of my favourite girls together and go spend a lunch hour there some Saturday. Or Sunday . . . after the Flea??! A plan!Go. Enjoy the place because it really is lovely. It made me smile.

Why I hate New Year's Day

2012-01-01T15:24:00.001Z

Oh pants. You won't often have me blog about my mam and dad but I miss them. I hate New Year's Day, despise it because . . .I miss them. I haven't seen my mam in nearly 15 years now and haven't seen my dad in 7 and a half and sometimes it hurts too much. Today, New Year's Day, is the day I find hardest in the year. The first day in another year. Another year that takes me further away from them.

So, today I have rearranged every picture in the house, cleaned 3 bathrooms, 4 bedrooms, hoovered everything, dusted everything and I'm still heartsore.

This song came on my ipod today, I'd downloaded the new Muppet soundtrack but, even though I've always loved this song, I think it's the first time I've really listened to the lyrics. Maybe because last night something woke me up and when I closed my eyes I could see my mam and dad and see them laughing and chatting and ... it was nice.

Have you ever been half asleep

And have you heard voices

I've heard them calling my name

Is this the sweet sound

That calls the young sailors

I think they're one and the same

I've heard it too many times to ignore

It's something that I'm supposed to be

Someday we'll find it

The rainbow connection

The lovers, the dreamers and me

Lyrics: Williams/Ascher

Happy Christmas my arse

2011-12-27T20:59:00.002Z

I called over to the lovely Ms. UrbanStems last Friday to wish her a Happy Christmas and deliver her a puddin. We sat and chatted and I showed her one of my favourite videos of the moment (ok go and the frickin' muppet theme tune)and she showed me this.

Oh jesus. She made me cry. It was meant to be a happy day. Ah, it was a happy day. A day for remembering some people we love I guess, whether we'd known that when we woke up or not.

I couldn't watch the whole thing in her house, seriously!!! I was crying!!! But I watched it today and it's beautiful.

It's still making me cry but in a good way.

Smile

2011-12-27T20:18:00.002Z

It's that time of year. The time of year when I try and finalise my Snapfish album. I'm struggling, I really am. It turns out, despite my occasional wailings, that we've had a lovely year. We went to England twice, went to the beach lots and no.3 got his 'icecream thing' on. His what??

Okay, so basically every month I am meant to sit down and sort through whatever photos I've taken throughout that month and pick the ones I like best and put them in my album and, at the end of the year, I pay up and my beautiful year is delivered to me. ME!! It's my present to myself, because I'm kind've worth it.

While going through the photos over the past few weeks I've noticed that there are tonnes of no. 3 and icecream. All over Ireland and England, there he is. No. 3 and icecream. Mostly cones. I love it.
Yeah, we did lots this year. I've noticed the same lovely friends cropping up and some new ones making their first appearance.
It's been a hard year mentally but you wouldn't know it to look at it so I hope that when the kids are big they'll remember great times and sunshine and sweets and video games and never ending summers and won't be aware of the money worry and bleugh-ness of 2011.
I love looking back at photos of us as kids. With Eoin getting married this year I looked at a lot to decide which ones to send on to Brazil for his wedding reception surprise. It looked like we had a great childhood too. Albeit one where we are nearly all headless. My ma was brutal at taking photos. Brutal. She'd try and fit everyone in but rather than taking a step or two backwards she'd lose the tallest persons head instead.
Yeah, it's been a good year, if a little worrying. I made some great new friends and laughed a lot. Cried a bit but mostly I laughed.
I came off anti-depressants and, touch wood, it's beyond the longest day of the year and I'm still off 'em.
Himself is working again. Thankfully in a school with school hours because I'm baffled trying to do it all. How'd I do all this when the kids were small?
Ms. C had another baby and she is a beauty and my fabulous sister had her first baby. My Turkish Delight and she is beautiful too.
The brudder got married and his wife is lovely and Brazil is something else.
What else? Dunno. Fun. Laughing. Good friends. Good food. Sunshine. Ducks. Cakes. Broken foot?! Not broken foot. Ice cream, No. 1 turning the big one oh and me turning, gulp, 39. Re-met some wonderful cousins and my lovely aunt and uncle had a surprse party. There was a gold medal for no. 1 too. Picnics on Christmas Eve and waaaay too many Christmas Puddins.
Some friends lost parents and my heart hurt for them. Some friends emigrated and my heart hurt for me.
Mostly though, I think I laughed.
So . . to each and every one of you who put up with me I'd like to wish you all a very happy, healthy and wonderful New Year.

I love you .. . .

2011-12-27T20:04:00.000Z

. . . . everywhere and in every house and in every part of the world and in every single planet and everywhere in space and ... yeah, I love you lots mam. No. 3.

I love people who make the magic even more magical.

2011-12-25T12:03:00.001Z

Photo source here

I didn't intend to blog today, it's Christmas Day after all but last night . . . well, something really magical happened. We had everyone over for our annual Christmas Eve dinner and it was a bit sad because it's Eoin and Za's last one here with us for a while and it was also a bit sad because during the year my mam's big serving plates got smashed - not normally a big deal but it was a way of including them. This year though we invited Himself's family and boosted the numbers up to a whopping 12 adults and 3 kids (my Turkish Delight doesn't count yet as she doesn't need a chair). It was a great night, kids were delighted with themselves, the gravy was out of this world and the company was second to none. But the 'magic'? Well, Himself handed me his phone and said 'you're onto Norad - Santa Tracker'. There was a lovely man at the end of the phone and I told him who I was and were I was ringing from and then I asked the big question 'When will Santa be here?' He said 'M'am, he'll be in Dublin, Ireland, between nine and midnight but ONLY if the children are asleep. He'll call back later if they're not. He's making good time because of the winds, Happy Christmas Ma'am. Goodnight.' To say I nearly peed with excitement. I love that there are men and women (I rang FOUR times) who are at bases and doing this for all of us. It's still making me weepy because I love the magic.

I pulled the following article from ABC News. Promise me you'll ring them next year, you can check the whereabouts of the Big Man on 001 719 556 5211. It's the most wonderful thing ever.

On Christmas Eve, children all around the world will lie awake wondering if, at any moment, Santa Claus will slide down their chimneys and leave the presents of their dreams. But all they really have to do is call in or go online to find out where Santa and his team of reindeers are at any given moment.

Every year, the North American Aerospace Defense Command tracks Santa’s journey around the world, using radar, satellite, fighter aircraft and, of course, a “Santa Cam.”

The tradition began as so many do – by accident. In 1955, a little girl who saw a Sears and Roebuck ad called in to what she thought was a Talk-to-Santa hotline. But she did not hear Santa Claus on the other end of the line.

Instead, she heard Col. Harry Shoup. He was working in the CONAD ops center (NORAD’s predecessor) and was shocked to hear a child’s voice. According to a NORAD spokesperson, John Cornelio, only two people had the number for that line – the president and the four-star commander.

As it turned out, the department store had printed the wrong number in the ad and alas, a tradition was born.

“It’s the innocence of the story that makes it so special,” Cornelio said. And Harry Shoup was given a new title- he is known as Santa Colonel.

Since that innocent phone call more than 50 years ago, NORAD tracks Santa’s progress around the globe, year after year.

To track his journey this Christmas Eve, you can visit the NORAD website, or call in to 877-HI-NORAD.

The NORAD Santa Tracker also uses social media to connect with Santa enthusiasts. NORAD has Facebook and Twitter pages, and a YouTube channel. And this year, for the first time, NORAD has a smart phone application for Andriod and iPhone users.

NORAD expects more than 80,000 phone calls and 20 million people using its website to track Santa this year.

So come Christmas Eve, when not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse, break the silence and see just how close Santa is to bringing joy to your area.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

2011-12-23T23:20:00.000Z

.......................... It's the eve before THE eve. Yup, tomorrow is Christmas Eve and the tension in the house is building nicely. No. 3 is terrified that I will ring Santa and say 'keep on going'. Oh, and whilst I think of it, I know I'm not the only mammy who does this. Mrs. F. said she was going to put one of those 'Santa Stop Here' signs outside her house only she was going to write the word 'DON'T' in front of the Stop.

Don't know what all us mammies will do next week when we can no longer use our threat of ringing Santa to keep the little ones under control. Damn, if only they knew we had no way of contacting Santa and that the red light flashing in the corner of the kitchen isn't in fact a camera direct to the north pole but, in fact, the alarm sensor and 'that' phone number we ring and chat on .. . well, it's the speaking clock. Can you imagine how peed off the man would be if we kept ringing him giving out about our kids? He would not be impressed.

Yeah, it's the evening before Christmas Eve. The evening when I should be making a dessert for the 8 adults who are coming to ours for dinner but . . , it's kind've nice to just be sitting here, having a glass of juice and watching a movie, whilst chatting to you.

If I don't get a chance again before the big day:

HAPPY CHRISTMAS

I hope you all have a wonderful, family filled, fun filled, joyous couple of days. I'll talk to you before the New Year and I can wish you a lot of happiness then too.

Then there was my birthday

2011-12-21T18:21:00.000Z

See? It's not that I don't care it's just that it's been mental. Absolutely mental. The kind've mental that makes you want to go to bed and refuse all contact with anyone who isn't bearing a packet of Tayto and a mug of tea.

Well, it was my birthday last Monday and I turned, 39, which (it would seem) I have an issue with. I don't mind the number thirty nine when it's on a bus but not when it's er, me.

Had a lovely day. Had a lovelier day when Ms. Karen Geraghty arrived at my door with a birthday cake. For me. I've had birthday cakes made for me before but they were made by the kids or by me ma. This was made by a CAKER. A proper caker. Someone like me only with infinitely more talent. There was a mini-me sitting on the cake. And I look gorgeous. It's very nerve wracking when someone is drawing a picture of you (Jesus, you should see how the kids see me???) so to have someone sculpt a little me?? Well, Wow.

I look beautiful.

The cake, ginger - my favourite, was delicious too. I actually had one of those pangs that people get when handed a beautiful cake. You know? "I'm NEVER cutting it", "No, I'm NOT. Never", "Go, feck off. Get your own cake".

But I did cut it but only after I stashed my little me and wrapped the rose in acid free tissue paper and put it in a little box and put that box in my box of important things.

Skived off school and work and went to see Santa (with me stopping at every traffic light to check me cake out on facebook). Got into Arnotts (the only place to see Santa) and queued for a whole hour. Only one hour??? Last year we were there for three! He was wonderful, as usual, and he blew Oscar away by knowing it was my birthday. Actually, Mrs. Claus told him it was my birthday, but once he knew it was my big day he gathered us all up and had everyone sing Happy Birthday to me. He does it every year and every year I go puce with mortification. You'd think I'd know what was coming.

Fiona arrived in with my beautiful Turkish Delight, that would be the niece, and .. . she just missed joining us in the queue and avoiding a two hour wait.

So off we went to lunch. To the IFI. Myself and Himself's second time in two days??? Gorgeous lunch and nice to chill and take the kids to a place where me and he used to chill when we had no kids.

Then, it kind've went pear shaped. I'd been given vouchers to the Wax Museum and thought 'why not?' Originally the plan had been to go and see Arthur Christmas (go see this movie, buy this movie, love this move) but we'd seen it a couple of weeks back and . .. well? The Wax Museum seemed like a good bet.

WRONG.

OH. SO. WRONG.

No. 3 flipped out. Said the whole place was 'creepy', and he hadn't even made it inside yet. As usual, No. 3's freakout caused no. 2 to flip his lid. Two crying kids outside the former Irish House of Lords attracts a lot of attention.

We convinced them to go inside, promised them we'd only go see Spongebob and the Simpsons. The lady on the door, seeing the state of the kids, never even tried to charge for the fifth one (family vouchers are always two and two aren't they??).

OH GOD.

I'd forgotten that wax works are basically adult size dolls. ADULT. SIZED. DOLLS. I was freaking out!! Ugh.

Then, to top it all, they slapped a Freddie Kruger-razer-handed-slasher-blood-n-guts-blood-all-over-mirror-and-on-floor-statue right in the middle of U2???

Am still not the better of it. Myself and No. 1 were brave and went downstairs to see the 'Irish History' models etc but ... argh. Dead babies in the famine scene? Or maybe they weren't dead but they had their eyes open and weren't moving and . . okay, so they're made of wax but they were staring. Wildly. Terrifying.

Off to Butlers for Hot Chocolate and time to go home and think about starting more puddins and . . . we lost our Santa photos.

Only realised later that night. Damn. But three cheers for the lovely people in Butlers who found them and are currently keeping them safe for us.

Yay. Happy birthday to me and . . . 39 is going to be a good year.

No 3 is Melchior

2011-12-21T17:20:00.000Z

And what a great king he made too. Funniest production of the nativity I've ever seen. "A wriggly nativity", so how could it not be funny?

I love these plays. Shame Himself had to miss it but . . . . he's working!!! Three years later and Himself is off in the big bad world again and I'm home alone. Again. He's working in his old Secondary school and struggling not to call his new boss, and old headmaster, Sir.

The novelty of having the house to myself has worn off. Seem to have lost the knack of keeping a house efficiently. The first two/three days we had beautiful home cooked meals. The next three/four days? Well, the meals were home cooked but a lot less beautiful.

Then there is all the school running and jaysus, but I'm shattered. It's just in and out, up and down. A proper hokey cokey situation. I missed this???

Anyway, Melchior. Yup, my boy is a sweetheart and he is going to be one to watch. He has that star quality you know? My Arthur. My King.

The Market!

2011-12-21T16:56:00.001Z

I don't think I have EVER felt cold like it. EVER. It was bloody freezing. Ugh, I'm shivering even thinking about how cold it was. Brrrrr.

But it was fun. Well, the first day was. Ms. K. did the first evening (I basically just set up and legged it) and she was inundated with people delighted to see us back in Balbriggan again. So sweet when people miss you and miss what you do. Instead of working the market I held my second Supper Club (remember those?), it was fab. This year it's all about Take-Away food. No cooking and, apparently, no pressure but, I tell ya, there is huge pressure ordering take away food. Do you get Thai or Indian? Chipper or Pizza? Who likes what and who doesn't eat fish? And!!! When do you order it? My local Indian said it would take an hour to deliver so I ordered at 8pm (everyone due at 8.30) only to have the feckin' thing turn up at 8.30 .. . . and, of course, no one showed up to eat it until 9pm. But you can't serve food to your mates the minute they walk in the door now can you? You have to get them settled, get the gossip. Give them a drink. Yeah, a bit stressful. Would much rather cook but . . . it's someone else's turn for the stress now. Love my supper club.

Got all the goss (and they got all mine) and learnt that Ms. A's neighbour is either mental or has a thing for Ms. A's Architect. Either way she's spending a lot of time shouting at him and ordering him about.

So, back to the market. Didn't drink. Much. So was there bright and early and set it up to look beautiful. Ms. K and I are good at this, I know self praise is no praise but our fecking stand always rocks. Then sat back and waited. Waited for the lazy feckers to get out of bed and buy our cakes.

We sold out. Which was arsey because by the end of the evening we were fecking shattered and the last thing we wanted to do was go home and bake some more. But Ms. K did (she's very good0 and Himself did (he's also very good. I'm not, very good am I?).

Met the loveliest butcher, Martin Browne, who has won tonnes of awards and challenged me to NOT like his rashers. I'd been giving out, you see, about how hard it is to buy a decent bit of rasher these days. You know? Something that tastes good but doesn't ooze all over your frying pan. Well, the man delivered and we had some for breakfast the next morning and then I hid the remaining 5 for me. Just me. I love a good rasher. He's based on the Main Street in Balbriggan so go buy rashers from him, sausages too (he's won awards fr them) and tell him Niamh (the cupcake lady sent you - he may remember me).

Then there was the Honey Sheriff (Mike J. Kelly). I swear to God, but that's what his badge said. I'm not a big honey lover. Always some weird aftertaste off it but . . . . there is such a difference in the honey you get off your local bee keeper and what comes in the shops. I always knew that e.g. Boyne Valley honey was made up from lots of different honey suppliers but the honey I had at this stand? Wow. Apparently Rape Seed Flower honey wins in the taste tests and I don't know what these bees were feeding on but they fed on some very tasty flower and . . mmmm, nice honey. The next day I met the Honey Queen of Ireland (I kid you not!) and she was telling me of the medicinal properties of honey and how it's really good for you. Really good for you if it's naturally sourced, isn't heated and isn't blended. We're all taking a teaspoon a day. Don't know if it's doing us any good but I think it's good for the soul, great way to start the day. Spoonful of honey and chocolate from the Advent Calander and you're set up for the day

Sunday. Bleugh. Freezing. Absolutely frickin freezing. We were to be there from 9am but we showed up at 10am (c'mon, it was a Sunday. A cold Sunday. Mass and football matches!!!! Besides which, no one really showed up until around 2pm. Including this woman:

Her. "€2.00 for a cupcake???? Jesus, I'd make one for that price."

Me: "Yeah????".

Her. "Yeah,

Me. "Sorry Madam, but are you making them from scratch or do you have a cupboard full of ingredients at home? From scratch? Rightio so. Let's see then?. . . . Okay, you need two types of flower, cheapest is €1.19 a bag (you've just spent €2.38 - so much for that €2.00 cupcake), butter at €2.19, Eggs - two at 33c each. Caster sugar (there's a sugar shortage you know), that's going to cost you €1.55 (shame you can't buy it by the gram eh?). What else? Vanilla Extract (€4.38 for a good bottle - again, you can't buy the exact amount you need . . . shame), Butter, the cupcake liner, (do you have tins?), cooking time and icing sugar. So Madam? Shall we add that up? Let's see? To make your ONE cupcake you've had to fork out a whopping €10.08 on ingredients, liners and gas (you are going to do this in the dark aren't you? Save on the leccy). Oh, and I am assuming you walked to the supermarket and didn't use a car and fuel (€1.49 a litre). Thank you and piss off!!!"

Not my finest hour, normally I'm very nice to my customers but give me a frickin' break. AAAAAAAAAAgh. Idiots.

Hey!!!! Remember me????

2011-12-21T16:12:00.000Z

I am so sorry for not blogging over the past month. Not properly anyway. It's been mental. You know how December is? A mad panic to get the house sorted for 'the Christmas' and then there were markets and cupcakes to make and cakes to make and, a seemingly endless stream of, chocolate Christmas Puddins and kids school concerts and .. . hey, I am shattered.

My sodden lizard has issues

2011-12-12T17:17:00.001Z

No 2 has gotten mad into taking care of all the animals in the house. Including his brothers. So today he decided that Rex and Max should have a bath. Filled the sink up with warm (but not too warm water) and gently dropped Max into it. She was delighted and gave it loads whilst I looked on in horror at the size of her in the sink. Her shell (oh, she's a Herman's Tortoise by the way) is huge. I weighed her, she weighs over 1.5kg. When we got her she was 137g!! So, we washed her with her nail brush and splashed her and all was good. Took her out and dried her off before putting her back under her heat lamp.

Then it was Rex's turn. Rex is beautiful. I love her to bits. She's a Bearded Dragon and, apparently, has issues! She tried to kill herself.

Seriously!!

Filled the sink up with fresh, warm water - just up to shoulder height for a lizard only to have her swim for a minute or so before ducking her head under the water and rolling over. We looked at her in wonder and amazement, thinking she was really enjoying her bath, only to think (after a minute or three) 'why's she closed her eyes and .. . . .???????'

Pulled her out of the water and she was floppy. And her eyes were closed. And she wasn't fecking breathing!!!!!

Gave her a little shake and wrapped her in a tea towel and blew on her nose. Whereupon she kind've er, snickered and opened her eyes and glared at me.

She glared at me and I glared at her.

I have a suicidal lizard.

Witch.

Mass

2011-12-11T21:12:00.000Z

Yeah, seriously!! No. 2 is making his First Holy Communion next May. I don't think I can go to mass every Sunday between now and then. Please say I don't have to!! Please?

Woke up this morning, 10am, with a coca cola hangover. What's that all about anyway? You go out, you behave and drive (even though there is some fairly fabulous champagne on offer) and drink coke all night but you still end up with a hangover?? Is it the sugar do you think? Either way it's pants, bloody pants.

Actually, last night was the Cake Buddies night out. Our first Christmas Party and it was fabulous. Started off in Ms. MacC's house where she'd laid on canapes and champagne. The canapes rocked, looked like the champagne rocked too. Fell in love with her house and her Christmas tree, especially the Christmas tree, and the kitchen and .. . then I saw it. The doll!! She has a doll hidden behind a door, hidden so you don't see it until you're stood beside the wretched thing. Hate dolls.

Then off to the restaurant and food, laughs and no one spoke about cake until they were hammered. I could tell you what went on during our Christmas night out but .. . . what happens on the night out stays on the night out. I will say: Ms. K has fabulous legs. Ms. D is one to be very much admired. Ms. G really struggled in that dress but it was a fabulous dress so I reckon it was worth the struggle. I looked like I was wearing a wig - something weird is happening with my hair and we ALL got way too excited over litre bottles of Vanilla Extract. WAY too excited. Oh, and they haven't invented a bra with a hidden pocket to hold your cash whilst you're out dancing - it's a nursing bra! Oh and Ms. MacC, despite her demure exterior, is a stocking wearing hussy.

What else? We ate, drank and laughed and all was good.

Until this morning.

When I had to peel myself out of bed and go to Mass.

Mass!!!

Shit.

I did it with No. 1 but it didn't seem to bother me as much then but it really is bothering me now. It bothered me when we went to our first meeting (for no. 2) and the priest said 'I've given a prayer card with each and every child's name on it to a member of the parish. They're going to pray for your son/daughter in this important year'. WTF???????? Pray for what? Pray for . . . I dunno but bloody hell (man). At that meeting my lovely friend K held me back but . . . c'mon. They're only 7. What 'praying for' do they need? Pah.

So this morning me and he got to church ten minutes early and I caught up with all the news with one of my friend's mams and it was great. Then a man sat in the bench between us and that was the end of that. Fr. F. is, no doubt, a lovely man but his voice goes through my brain. THROUGH MY BRAIN!! He means well and the kids love him but he makes me want to poke my eyes out. He sounds, according to no. 1, like the voice off your Sat Nav. With a bit of a Dub accent.

He called the kids up to gather around whilst they prayed. Then he sent them back down. He then called them back up again to sing the Lord's Prayer and then sent them back down again. What I found hard to take was the fact that all the kids look so into it. I don't think it does kids any harm to have something to believe in but do I have to sit through it too? Again?! Himself is not getting involved. He'll go to the Communion but not Mass. Don't get me started on the First Confession. No. 2 asked about that and said 'what am I meant to confess?'. Er? Being a shit to your brother and er, eating all the biscuits. What a crock of shit.

When it was all over and we'd listened to the VdeP man talking about how they needed donations (no problems) and how they made sure the good people of Malahide's money only went to those who needed in voucher form (like, seriously???? I know you get those who cannot be responsible for themselves never mind kids but .... a bit demoralising don't you think? You have nothing and are given paper to go into shops to buy shoes or whatever therefore letting everyone know you have nothing.) and stood up and sat down a lot, Oz asked why I wouldn't kneel I lied and said 'my ankle is sore' rather than 'I refuse to bow before a man'.

Anyway, after it was over I asked no. 2 what he thought of it all.

"...er, yeah, it's all a bit boring really isn't it? All that standing, sitting, standing, running up, running down, kneeling stuff. Y'know Mam, I think once a month is fine . . ."

Hey Oz, I'm with you on that.

No. 3 is cracking up!

2011-11-28T17:23:00.000Z

No. 3 isn't having all that much fun at the moment. He's 'boooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrred'. Thing is, the more bored he gets the more stressed I get. 'There's nuthin' to do.' '????????????????????????????'. I mean, never mind the bulging playroom. The tonnes of vital Lego and colouring stuff. Never mind the fact that he has comics to burn and books to read. He's bored. Reading, apparently, is boring.

He's lucky I didn't see the notice for the big Glendalough Walk in time to go on it. 6 hours of trail walking. That would have sorted his issues out.

Every day I tell him to 'go out and play'. 'Go get some fresh bloody air while it's dry and bright' etc. etc. Nope. The little shite is determined that the ONLY way (man) to relieve his boredom is to be able to play some sort of video game. Any video game. Solitaire on the laptop will do, it just has to be something involving a screen of some sorts.

I despair.

What a lovely weekend

2011-11-21T09:54:00.000Z

Have just had a lovely weekend. A really lovely one. Okay, so I'm on my knees now but it was lovely. Started off, in manic fashion, on Friday with trying to finish a cake for my aunt and uncle's (Marge and Bob) 75th surprise birthday party. Then it was panic stations when I realised that I am never, EVER, going to wear high heels again. So disappointing to put on a pair of fabulous boots only to find you can only stand still in them as, once you take a step, the tendons and ligaments in your right foot start screaming for mercy. Sigh.

So, with babysitters here, myself and Himself legged it into town to drop off cake and have a pint in McDaids where a mate of ours work. Oh but the buzz of town on a Friday night. It was fantastic. All those people, happy and laughing and gorgeous (and half undressed - I am getting old), just hanging out and . . . I remember being 20 and doing the same. Actually, whilst in McDaids, myself and Himself saw a twentysomething version of Ms. Urban. The two of us stared at her so hard she obviously felt uncomfortable. So left!! Before we could take a sneaky photo. Ms. Urban has a doppelganger.

From McDaids it was back to the Green Hen (go to this place, it's marvellous, they have a separate dining room upstairs) where I met me cousins!!! If my brother and sister had've been there it would have been the first time since we were all small kids that we were in the same space. Loved it. Would have loved it more if I were allowed to drink but I was designated driver so . .. water for me, ta.

Stayed out terribly late, ate well and carried in cake. I loved that cake. Met people who knew me and could tell tales of when I was small and tales of my uncle Bill. Heard tell of how young people don't invite the old people to parties anymore because they are considered boring. Hah! The two 'old' people I spent the night chatting with were sarky, sharp and could cut you down as soon as look at you. Loved them. But a bit afraid of them. Never a bad thing really, eh? Dropped people home and time for bed at 2.30.

Then it was a lazy Saturday. Had such good intentions of doing stuff but the sofa was so comfortable it would have been a shame to leave it. A complete shame. Taught the youngest chap how to play Othello. Had tales of intended to let him win until he started winning. The lads can beat me at everything. Strategists!!

Then time for a trip to Islandbridge for a catch up with the girls. Move wine and laughing and putting the world to rights. Ms.C. is fading away to nothing but looking fabulous, Ms. A. has finally worked out how to spend time in yer wan's company without killing her (she is never to be left alone with her for more than it takes the boyfriend to pee) and Ms.Ce is having a great time in her new job. I had no news and just sat and listened and laughed. Oh, and regaled with tales of Brazil. Oh, and I found a woman who, I believe, had a baby purely to write about the experience. Never pushed a pram as didn't want to be defined as a 'mother' and never takes the, now, toddler with her anywhere because . . .I don't know. It's an ordeal. Apparently there is no fun in going out to lunch, holidaying, walking on the beach if you have a child. REALLY??? Ya think?? Okay, so it's not the same kind've fun but it is fun. Lots of fun. And the great thing about toddlers is .. . they nap!!!!! Arsey woman.

Home by 4.30an!!!!!

A new caker pal called over late Sunday morning and we had tea and chatted and her boys played with my boys and it was another lazy day before you knew it. Ate toblerone and chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilled. Nice.

Then to Rush to meet with the cousin I know best from Friday and . . . Jesus wept. Their new house!! I want it. Not just because it's beautiful and the downstairs is made for artwork, pretty things, the biggest Christmas tree you can buy. Not just because the kitchen is the size of an aircraft hanger or because it has underfloor heating and huge windows. Nope. I would kill to live there because you can hear the sea. Within seconds you can be walking on the beach - which we did for an hour. Wow and wow. I want R&C's house. I want the view. I want the sound of the sea and wow and wow.

Home by 9pm (nah, not another am) and time for kids to go to bed and me to fall asleep in front of Silent Witness.

Probably doesn't sound like much fun but . . . think about it:

Dawn. Cake. Friends. Pub. Gin and Tonic. Laugh with grumpy barman mate. Great food. Great surprise. Great company. Catch up. Relatives. Home. Zzzzzzzzzzzz. Lazy day. Board games with kids. More friends. Good food. Good laugh. Good music. World put to rights. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The sea and boats (more on that again). New friends. Laaazzzzy. OMG House. Great kids. Lovely walk on seafront. Great food. Great laugh and home to good BBC drama. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Great weekend.

Mouvember

2011-11-15T22:19:00.001Z

Yeah.

I went to get my eyebrows threaded last Friday, a six weekly treat for myself. Jesus but it stings but the girl is so good, the shape is fantastic but she is now no longer my friend.

Her. "Do you want me to do your upper lip?

Me. "WHAT????"

Her. "You, ehm, your lip is very hairy."

Me. "Oh Jesus, really?"

Her. "Yes. Look"

Well, I looked but I had no glasses on so what could I say other than, in small voice 'yeah please remove the moustache that none of my friends have ever told me about (bastards)."

So, I had my upper lip threaded (I keep typing 'threatened', go figure) and aaaaaaaaaaaaagh, it was so painful. I imagine it could be used by spies or some such as a way of making people talk. They'd be talking funny though as their sodding faces would swell up. I had a fat lip. A fat smooth lip but a fat lip none the less.

I didn't tip. And I'm not going back. I have a lip that looks like a scalded cat, or something. Ouch.

Check out men with real moustaches here and donate or grow yer own.

photo source

Why the long face? Oh yeah, rape is not funny.

2011-11-11T17:11:00.002Z

I've been thinking about this post for a while now. Wasn't sure if I was going to go with it but, well, it's been bothering me. Bothering me for two reasons. The first being: I said nothing, I just left the room. Secondly: I respected this person and they have dropped by a fucking mile in my estimation.

I told a couple of friends about this because I wasn't sure if it were just me. It would appear that, no, it's not just me. Some things you just DON'T JOKE ABOUT, no matter how frickin' immature you are or no matter how desperate you are to impress people.

I don't even think they read this blog but I don't mind, it's not for them. It's for me. An apology to . . . I don't know, whatever, but an apology nonetheless for staying quiet and not pointing out that the 'mouth' in question was a complete and utter arsehole. I will, however, be forwarding a link to them. I cannot speak to them for fear of my desire to smash their face in.

Sitting in company, mixed company a woman said 'a report has been done that has proven that faking pleasure whilst being raped will dissuade the attacker from continuing on with his attack'. I heard this and my head snapped around, as if on elastic, and I dismissed it as a load of bollix. "Jesus", I thought "Pretend you're enjoying it??? WTF??"

But later someone picked it up and ran with it. They said "I know what new job I'll get". "I'll get a job teaching women how to fake an orgasm when being raped". Huge howls of laughter all around. "Oooh baby, yeah baby."

I left the room.

The following day they were still joking about it and 'faking' away good-oh. I still said nothing.

The reason I said nothing is because I was so disgusted by that person and felt so let down by that person I genuinely couldn't bring myself to say anything to them. Nothing at all. Not goodbye, hello. . . nothing.

What horrified me is that I thought I knew them really well.

I thought they were an adult and mature.

I thought wrong.

So, fucko, here's the thing with it 416 people (men and women but mostly women) were raped in Ireland this year. That's 416 people whose lives were destroyed. The year isn't even over yet.

Because I associate rape as a crime against women (and I do know it's not) I'm going to continue in a female vein. That's 416 women, daughters, cousins, nieces, wives, sisters, mothers, friend's lives who have ruined.

Tell them they should have fucking faked their way through it. "Oh baby, baby". Tell them, that in their terror, that in their desire to simply survive, they should have pretend they were making love with their husbands, boyfriends, girlfriends, lover . . whatever. Yes, you tell them that the best way to survive is to act like you're loving it.

You, my friend, know who you are. And I am determined you shall read this. I am determined that you think of your wife, sisters, sisters-in-law, friends, cousins, nieces, nephews, your own daughters. I am determined that, if nothing else, the last conversation we chose to have together is one where I tell you what a fuckwit you are. What an ill-educated, immature fuckwit you are.

Follow the link to Dublin Rape Crisis Centre and read the survivors accounts. Read of the men and women who took their own lives because of this appalling crime.

Fuckwit. Rape is NEVER a topic for fun. Rape is never a joke. It is a serious crime and those who survive are wonderful and heroes in my eyes.

You, my friend, are an arse. An idiot. I didn't challenge you the night in question because if I had've, it would have been the straw that broke the camel's back. I love a laugh, really love a laugh. Have a wicked sense of humour I'm told but you weren't funny. Several times I looked at you and wondered why? How? I do know that if my sons ever carried on the way you did I'd take them off this planet myself. Cheap laughs are, cheap!! I remember seeing Tommy Tiernan a couple of years back and he was earning his fee by taking the piss out of the homeless and the handicapped. I went off him that day. Never watched him again. He'd been really funny up until that point but then the laughs he went after. . . well, not funny. No fun in poking fun at those who cannot defend themselves. Jesus, it wasn't satire or irony it was just shit.
I like to think that this wasn't 'really you' and that you were trying to impress people. But, really???? If your friends are impressed by that kind've talk I guess I'm not impressed with your friends. Think before you speak and learn some bloody respect. You weren't big. You weren't smart and you were far from clever.
p.s. Next time you're joking about rape, picture the one you love most in the world.

Absolute favourite photo of the entire Brazilian trip 2011

2011-11-10T00:08:00.000Z

Doesn't look much really, does it? But to me it meant I was within 3 hours of seeing the boys. I was finally going to get to see, smell, hold and look at them. Hold them and see them.

Everyone, and I do mean everyone, kept saying 'oh, you won't know yourself. All that time without your kids'. But, thing is, there is something different about being that far away and not having that much to do. I've never had that much free time on my hands. I went from relaxed to bored within hours. I missed them. Really missed them. I missed Himself too. The four of them ground me and make me feel happy and sane. They chase the dragons away.

p.s. I didn't miss the kids because I'm used to being with them (you know who you are, you muppet). I missed them because they're mine. I missed them because they're smart and funny and gracious. I .. . yeah, missed them.

Then there was the wedding

2011-11-09T23:50:00.002Z

Friday, 4th November and my brother and his wife got married for the second time!! ON A FRIDAY!!! Silly sap kept telling me (turned out it was 'us') it was on a Saturday. Makes no difference but I don't know how Mrs. M. puts up with him, he's hopeless with times/directions and, er, days.

Started the day with a nervous bride, told her most brides are nervous and it's not natural to NOT cry on your wedding day. Think she believed me because she laughed and seemed calmer.

Had make up done, nails done (sigh, they're chipped now and it's brutal. Had gotten used to pretty nails). Thing is, with 'night time' make up it looks fairly full on in full sunshine. Seeing as how we were in Brazil . . . yeah, FULL sunshine. When I got back to the house the lads kind've looked at me and I simply stated "I'll look fantastic once it's dark". Yup! I really said that. I said I'd look better in the dark. Big frickin' doh!!!!!! Thing is, I did look much better as the light faded, it was night time dramatic make up and looked stunning. I think.

I gave the bro' away and the lovely mother of the bride gave her daughter away. I'd been handed a handkerchief by the second-best man as I was tearing up but the mammy of the bride looked in more need (she had dramatic night time make up on too and that stuff doesn't take kindly to tears). So I passed her the hankie behind the bride's bum. But then 'I love NYE' was played and I started sniffing again (one of my favourite songs you see). Damn.

Back down the aisle with the m-o-t-b (work it out) and we were followed by the second best man and one of the bridesmaids. We were then handed rose petals by the wedding dictator and, well, I guess we'd all been intending to throw them gently over the heads of the happily married (again) couple but. . well, er, three out of eight of us fired the petals at them like snowballs. Happy days.

Then there was drinking and eating and laughing and shots and a bit of dancing a bit of (sssh) smoking. The bride and groom had their life laid out for them in a slide show but none of the sodding photos I spent hours working on were used. Not enough time. Arse.

More drinking and lots of lovely people to talk to and . . . yeah, it was a great wedding. Thoroughly enjoyed myself, loved the people I met. Not a very good matchmaker (I introduced Mr. R to a, gulp, 15 year old - she said she was SEVENTEEN!!). Mr. R. did quite fine by himself BTW. Poor minx left her shoes behind the next morning so she had to come back the following night for them. Uh-hmm!!

Brazilian weddings are pretty much like Irish ones, only difference is, I think, you have a better chance of sunshine.

A long and happy life to the pair of them.

Mr. R., Second-best Man, Bro' and Mr. B.

The Bro' and me.

Mrs. M. and the lovely mammy of the bride.

The wonderful Ring bearer and his gorgeous mammy.

Sisters, everyone needs them.

Happily married again

The gorgeous Ms. G and her mental mother.

Mr. B (a desperate snorer!!) and Ms. S.

In retrospect Mr. R. . . she looks 15.

AGAIN!!!! Shots.

NOT AGAIN!! PLEASE, NEVER AGAIN.

Then there was the food

2011-11-09T14:04:00.001Z

Oh God but the food in Sao Paolo rocked. Like, really rocked. As for the booze? Hmmmm? I was quite taken with the Cachaça, although I'm pretty sure the person I was doing shots with ended up with a mouthful of 'bounced' Cachaça, if you know what I mean. At the wedding I kind've turned into scary lady who's rarely let out and really went for it. My brother returned from the bar with two shots, one for me and one for my pal. We drank them and I turned to my brother and said 'again'. My drinking pal looked pained but drank it nonetheless. . . . I kind've, er, discreetly tipped most of mine into a different glass and only got a mouthful. Sneaky. A guest at the wedding by the name of Gutenberg (he said 'like the press' but we all thought 'like Steve, from Police Academy') and he told us that your first Cachaça will taste good, perhaps even great, but your second one, quite possibly, could kill you! It's fermented sugar cane and it really comes into it's own when you turn it into a Caipirinha. My favourite was the every day Lime Caipirinha but feck it, I tried lemon, strawberry, kiwi and grave and another fruit one that I can't remember the name of. Looked like an olive but soaked the alcohol right into it's gorgeous white heart and was boozy as hell.

So taken with Caipirinhas was I that I think I was pretty much 80% proof for the remaining two days of my trip to Brazil. Perhaps even 90%. Hmmm? Wonder if that's why I still can't sleep. Yeah, still awake and home over 36 hours now. Not good.

The food is great. We had North Eastern food (beans and rice etc.) in a fab restaurant and ordered a whole lot of stuff on the menu. Actually, Mrs. M. did. None of us spoke well enough to order. Funny though, now that I think back. We all went through the menu, flicked the pages and read it as if we understood it. Which we didn't. We got a rice dish, a chicken dish, something like a goat (it was goat) and a type of bacon Shepard's pie. Twice. Nice.

That evening, of the North East meal, we went to a bar called North Beer and well, I got quite merry. I didn't intend to but I was having great fun and the boys were pretty and funny and it would have been rude not to have a drink with them. The fact that margaritas were only €3 made it very easy on the pocket too. We drank and ordered food and ended up with mandioca fries (think potato only really, really crispy), then boring potato fries. Cheese fried in sesame seeds and chicken in something. Oh, and a bottle of Absolute to wash it down. I also appear to have developed a 2 day obsession with smoking in Brazil. Never smoked before and never will again but for two days straight I smoked happily, if awkwardly.

Back to food. We also went to a Churrasco (Brazilian BBQ) where, for the equivalent of €24 you can eat as much as your belly will hold. There were six of us, four fellas and another girl and myself and I swear to God we were like . . (cliche) Irish at a free bar. We loaded up at the buffet and then sat down and turned our token to green. You're given a wheel, one side red, the other side green. The concept is simple - green side up for more meat and red side down if you'd like to take a break. Thing is . . . we just kept it on green and let them keep loading up our plates. Sausage, chicken, lamb, beef, a different type of beef, pork belly. Hell, they even wrapped meat in meat and served it up.

We were gluttons. All I could think of was Himself and the lads, they would have loved it.

Apparently it's a dining experience you can make last for hours. I think we last 45 minutes.

Then, it was remembered, we hadn't had the chicken hearts. Thought 'I'll try this' and remembered how much I hate offal when it was in my mouth. Bleugh. Mr. R. said his 'popped in his mouth and tasted sour'. Not good.

What is cool is that the waiters go around, with swords (huge skewers?) filled with meat, anxiously keeping an eye out for anyone who'd left their token on green. Like us. Savages.

On my last day I got to go to the Liberdade. Wow, oh wow. Japanese food. Gorgeous Japanese food. I ordered a whopping dumpling and then some Takoyaki . . . which came with live shrimp. Not great for me. Don't like my food trying to swim in it's sauce.
Last meal was a delicious Beef Stroganoff - a national dish of Brazil and then it was time to head for the plane. Home to babies and Himself so was happy with that.
The food rocks. The booze is out of this world and the juices are fabulous. I had orange and soya juice, plain orange, pineapple and the very delicious sugar cane juice. Yeah, stuffed and happy.
Oh, and I really can't forget the utterly delicious 'pao de queijo' cheese bread balls - yum. They were the very, very, last thing I ate before leaving the country.

source

Finding one's way around Sao Paolo

2011-11-08T16:25:00.002Z

Yeah, so like I said before. I have a shite sense of direction and have always 'landmarked' where I am or where I'm going. That's how I find my way around, well, everywhere. Got really shafted before when someone painted their awful yellow house a very boring beige. A beige like every other house on the street. Yup, the yellow house really made it easy for me to find my way around Drimnagh.

In Sao Paulo the graffiti is magnificent. Seriously, it's fecking gorgeous. I guess the city, like it's people, is tattooed to the nth degree (Brazilians seem to really, REALLY, love their tattoos). No matter where you go you will find something really amazing to look at. I was told that shopkeepers etc. pay the graffiti artists to draw on their shop fronts, shutters, whatever and that deters everyone else from tagging their walls. There is a definite code of honour here, no artwork was ever defaced by someone else's. I like that.
So, for me in Brazil . . . with no fecking Portuguese or ability to read and then remember road signs I took to using the artwork as my guide to getting around. It worked. To start any journey over there you always, always got the 175P bus to The Joker. You then walked past Spiderman 3 and you were on the right road to the metro. Perfect, huh?

Something else, isn't it?

Saudade

2011-11-08T15:47:00.002Z

Saudade, you can find the wikipedia explanation here but basically the word is unique to Brazil. It means 'a longing for something or someone' or 'the loss of someone very special, they're not there any more.

It also sums up how I felt during my first days in Sao Paulo. I wasn't that keen on going, for many reasons. Mostly . . . I do not like flying and I do not like being that far from my family. That far from my family with people I don't really know. No disrespect to my brother or his wife but they are not an every day part of my life and even though I was really looking forward to spending a lot of time with them I guess I don't really know them that well. Bizarre thing to say really but when there is an eight year age gap and you were buying your first house as he started college it's pretty safe to assume that you didn't spend a lot of time clubbing together.

Thing is, we didn't really get to do anything those first few days in Sao Paulo. Obviously they were busy with the wedding but I had mistakenly assumed that we would do some touristy stuff while I was there and was really looking forward to seeing the city. And let me tell you it's a city in a way you can't comprehend. It's huge!! I'd read it was huge but WOW. No matter where you look there are skyscrapers and then low level buildings and more skyscrapers and . . it's kind've beautiful. I loved it. Really loved it. It wasn't as dangerous as I was led to believe, at least I never once felt nervous . . that's saying something as you know how lousy my sense of direction is. I never once felt on edge, even at night. We got the wrong bus one night and had to hop off it before we went too far afield and, good friends, I knew where we were!! Me!!!? Actually, in total we got a bit lost three times and each time it me who found our way home. I used the wondrful graffiti to find my way around the area we were in. Great way to get about. More in another post.

I am disappointed that I didn't get to do sightseeing, and no, it's not a touristy place but there are places of interest. Lots of them. I would have liked to get to see the grave of one of F1 racing legends, I would have liked to get to the zoo or find that highest building but it wasn't to be. My hosts were busy and . . well, it didn't happen. I did, however, get to go to the market in the Liberdade district and it was brilliant. Hung around the square for a few hours, trying different types of food (some of which was alive - not good) and watching the world go by. A lovely man taught me how to make a origami doll which he then gave me and I gave to Ms. Urban. How great is that? I was taught how to do something funky. In Brazil.

I found my initial few days in Brazil very disconcerting. I missed my family and was lonely as there wasn't anyone to, sounds so dramatic (and it wasn't), show me around or keep me entertained.

So Saudade, is the word for my trip. Initially anyway.

Ha, found it.

2011-11-08T15:31:00.000Z

Keep hanging on

2011-11-02T20:28:00.001Z

You know that picture, the one with the kitten hanging off the branch of the tree...? Anyway, the poster shows a kitten hanging off a branch and the phrase Keep Hanging in There written underneath. Well, thats me.

An eejit abroad . . . flying rocks

2011-10-29T11:25:00.001+01:00

Ms.Urban posted a great ad for me, with a thumping tune but I remembered this one .. . yeah, flying will be, er, grand.

An eejit abroad . . . it starts!

2011-10-29T11:19:00.001+01:00

One of the best things about going to Brazil, for me, was getting to go through duty free and buying myself a bottle of Chanel No. 5. I have loved that perfume ever since I was 14 and the woman of the house, Gill (utmost in chic and wonderfullness and now a great friend) always wore Chanel. As I inspired to be the utmost in chic too I became a huge fan of No. 5. I never achieved the chic but I do smell fabulous.

I digress, I ran out of Chanel No. 5 two weeks ago and rejoiced in going to Brazil because I could buy more, tax free.

But last night I won a bottle of the good stuff, the Parfum!!!!! At a charity night, best €30 I ever spent. So now I don't have to get into a metal tube and have that metal tube spark up and take off and stay, touch wood, in the air for ten and a half hours.

'Cept I do as my brother is getting married and he's my brother and . . . fuck, but I hate flying. It's only 11.20, the day BEFORE, and I have already taken my first, half, Xanax. Himself was shocked to find out that Xanax is a tranquilliser. Looove tranqs.

Oh, and whilst I think of it, my lovely pal Ms. Urban wrote a lovely piece about my panic. She also took the piss out of my 'I'm dead hard, don't feck with me' walk! Yuh, you should see hers. She looks like a jive turkey.

What's that all about then?

2011-10-27T22:23:00.000+01:00

'Tother night I settled down with Himself to watch a movie. I'm sure in most households this is a simple enough thing to do. You pick a movie, you sit and you watch it. Here? Here you have to debate genre, directors, if the comedy is too black (for me) or too violent (me again, I'm a wuss) and then, about an hour after you agreed to watch a film together, you watch something. Himself suggested Cohen brothers I vetoed and suggested the latest Star Trek. He vetoed so we settled on Star Trek 4. Can't remember what it was called but ................why????

Everyone else I knew was watching the programme about puppy farming in Ireland. I wasn't watching it because it would have been too sad (see above) so instead I watched a movie about how, in the 23rd century there are no whales left in the sea (combination of pollution and whale hunting).

Yup, no whales left in the sea and a big lump of granite making screechy noises and trying to find whales. Of which there are none. So Kirk and co head back, by sling shot-ing themselves around the sun, to the latter end of the 20th century to find whales. They had to as the big granite thing was tearing the sea apart (and the planet!!) as it wanted to have a sing song.

So Kirk and Co. find a pair of whales in a sanctuary and, conveniently, the female is pregnant. We get to see a couple of montages of whales being slaughtered by hunters to ram home the eco message of the eco period the movie was shot in. Oh and the whales are due to be released into the wild and their chief carer is devasated. We know this because she pouts and shakes her curls and slaps a co-worker on the puss.

The whales are released a day early. Kirk and Co. manage to get their ship back up and running and track the whales to where they are juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust about to be harpooned. Isn't it always the way? You spend a lifetime in a zoo and then the minute you're released you get feckin' harpooned. They scare the nasty whalers by uncloaking above them. Scared the bejaysus out of them.

Slung shot back around the sun our intrepid heroes (and whale carer, she hitched a ride) crash land back into San Francisco Bay c. 23rd century and release the whales.

The granite thing screeches and sings to the whales and the whales sing back. Granite thing sails/floats off into space and the three, sorry, two whales (one pregnant) swim off happy to be the only whales in the 23rd century.

WHAT THE FUCK???????????????

I don't understand? What was the screechy thing? Was it piloted by whales? And why, oh why, bring only TWO whales into the future because, the way I see it, ultimately the two adult whales are going to die and there will be the baby whale left. All alone. The last whale in the universe.

Should have watched programme about puppy farming.

Note to me: The stringy structure that whales strain their food through? Balleen!! It's called Balleen.

Is it the Pension they're after? Do you think?

2011-10-27T22:02:00.000+01:00

I voted today. Didn't want to, but one must. Seven of them running for the Presidency and not a one amongst them that inspires anything. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Dana? Fundamentalist Catholic singer who once won the Eurovision contest. Way back in the dark ages with 'All Kinds of Everything'. Yeah, all kinds of everything provided God approves. She was asked if, as President, she would write the right to abortion into the Irish Constitution should it come into being whilst she held the presidency. She said it wouldn't happen. She was told 'it might' but she replied 'no it won't'. So she's clairvoyant too. Nice.

Then there's the Hobbit a.k.a. Michael D. Higgans. He reminds me of a leprechaun so I'm sure the Americans will love him. He does nothing for me. Nothing about him makes me think he'll be a great president except for one thing. He's old!! So, pure economics, may have made me give him my no. 1. I mean, he's old, so when he retires the Presidency he isn't going to live for a terribly long time which means he'll only cost the state, and us, a paltry (approx) €1.something million in pension payments. Someone like Sean Gallagher will cost the state, and us, approx. €5.4 million. Something to think about eh?

Mary Davies. Her posters, TWICE, have blown onto the windscreen of my car nearly killing the lot of us. So she is not getting my vote. Silly yeah, but when there is nothing else to say about someone other than shite postering it's good enough for me.

David Norris. He should have dropped out, he really should have. He was destined for my number one. I even got over the fact that he sent letters on headed paper to authorities speaking up on behalf of an ex lover of his. We all do stupid things for the ones we love. Shame the fecker did it twice.

Martin McGuinness. This was a tough one. You see, I really believe a leopard should be allowed to change his spots. He spoke well and I started to believe in him but then... Then he went onto Frontline and well, instead of debating (NONE of the candidates were capable of debate)he launched an attack on Sean Gallagher. The things he said were a revelation and I'm pretty sure they've cost Sean the election but, well, he did it to score points. He didn't debate, he threw shit and waited to see what stuck.

So, Sean Gallagher. I've never liked him. I don't know why but I haven't. I know you're not supposed to judge a book by it's cover but the man is scary looking. He looks like a bouncer and his upper lip doesn't move when he talks. He also keeps on and on about how he's a black belt in various martial arts. What does that mean? Is he implying that he'll be able to save the state thousands by not needing security? I don't know. What I do know though is that he lied and lied about his involvement with Fianna Fail. Now, I have no problem with him being involved in Fianna Fail but I do object to him lying about fundraising for them. I don't understand why he hid it? I mean, political parties need fundraisers right? So why lie? Actually, the only reason I would have voted for Sean was the fact that he didn't use any posters. Not one. Hate all those bloody posters.

Then there's Gay. Poor Gay Mitchell. The mans everyone forgets.

The presidency carries nowt with it other than a Pension really. Ireland's Catering Manager is now I heard someone once describe it. I think the seven of them are in it for the Pension. I voted for the one who'll cost me the least.

p.s. If there are to be future debates on Irish television find someone better than Pat Kenny to host them. And don't have so many frickin' plants in the audience. Jesus, it was worse than my local garden centre. Plus!!! This is an important one ladies and gentlemen, plus, give them topics to debate. What I witnessed on Frontlin was a Q&A session NOT a debate. Pah, and try not to have such a biased host. Pants. Absolute pants.

Raining, raining, raining

2011-10-24T20:16:00.000+01:00

Seriously!! I'm expecting boats to start a service outside my front door. It's brutal out there. Which is fine with me cos I'm in here. Toasty and warm and tired from a day of making jigsaws. Or should that be 'tired from a day of trying to make jigsaws'? We have boxes of the things in the house and the borrowed boy is rather fond of them so we decided to make them today. Thing is, out of the boxes and boxes of jgsaws we only have TWO that are complete. TWO!!!!! Bloody annoying that.

The fact that I'm pants at making jigsaws is also a sticking point. I'm 38 (and more than a half now) but still get frustrated by jigsaws. Pah.

Still, it was a rainy horrible afternoon and jigsaws are a grand way to spend the day.

Yesterday's Party

2011-10-23T12:23:00.000+01:00

I love going to Chris and Verena's house parties!! Games and foul things disguised as delicious things (pickled onion dipped in chocolate anyone?), maggots, hearts, liver and rice pudding. Bloody brilliant. I tried to burn the dress but it was repeatedly rescued and 'Granny' was something to behold.

Yup, the best parties I've been to this year have been in V&C's and bring on the next one!!

Yeah, sometimes you are just too old

2011-10-22T13:21:00.000+01:00

Had a lovely evening yesterday in a friend's house. Indian food and beer and . . . grass. Sigh, had forgotten how much I love getting high. I know, I know. I'm a mammy and meant to be above all that but it's so nice. Great company helps too but . . . next morning?? Oh deah, but my tummy is bleugh and I smell smokey and whilst worth it at the time, right now I feel foul.

Going to a party tonight. A fancy dress party and I can't wait. It's in Verena and Chris's house and it's going to fabulous. I won't be able to look at Chris for the night because I know what his mask is like. Think 'cheese grater and face', eek. Himself is going as Alan from the Hangover 2 and I'm going as a paper doll. I had a very Blue Peter-esque week and made my own costume. Still struggling with bits of it but I reckon it looks fantastic.

Disappointed

2011-10-20T11:02:00.000+01:00

Have you ever been let down, really let down, by someone you'd trust with your life? No? Well, it leaves you with a sick stomach, a headache and an overwhelming desire to wipe them off the face of the earth.

The galling thing about this is that I'm being held partially responsible for the mess they've gotten themselves into. Thankfully I have the confidence, finally, to know that none of what is happening is anything to do with me. As I get older I've come to realise that some people are always, always, going to want other people to look after them and blame when it goes wrong.

Thankfully. That's not me.

Yesterday

2011-10-18T23:28:00.001+01:00

Was insane. Woke to find the day of the brother's wedding was finally here. Woke to remember that this was the day my sister had to move house?! Woke to a phone call asking 'er, any chance you could decorate the pub for the wedding?' Muppet.

A wedding planner is something my brother would make never make. He was out buying a shirt to go with his suit two hours before he said 'I do' or 'I will' or whatever it is you say these days.. He did, however, make a lovely groom and Isabella was beautiful, as always.

Pub looked alright too.

Boys pulled their first pint of Guinness and . . yeah, it was a great day. If a little tiring. Oh, and note to bride and groom . . . you should have stood still and let everyone get photos of you!!!

Now I'm pissed off

2011-10-14T18:33:00.000+01:00

My sister, along with her husband and my gorgeous niece, live in Priory Hall, Donaghmede. Today a judge ordered that her apartment building is so dangerously built that she, and everyone else in the complex (137 of the 187 units are occupied) must evacuate by Monday!

The apartment complex was so badly built that a fire, should one start, would rip through the entire complex in minutes. Think Towering Inferno only not so tall.

Now, what I don't understand is . . I'll give you a list:

Who signed off on that Building? Which Architectural firm were responsible for this building? I worked in an Architect's office for many years and I can remember the i's that had to be dotted and t's that had to be crossed for South Dublin County Council. I can remember lots and lots of information that I absorbed via osmosis about Fire Regs. So, my question is. who were the Architects responsible for this building's non compliance with Fire Regulations?
Who, from Dublin City Council signed off on this building? Someone must have. Again, from what I know and remember, some Officer within Dublin City Council was responsible for seeing that this development was compliant with Current Building/Fire Regulations. Who are they and why aren't they being named? And HOW in God's name did a Planning Official not see what I saw when I did the snag for Fiona? Jesus, I'm not an Architect but even I had concerns (and I did voice them) regarding Public Lobbies and Fire Doors. I had issues with the stairs and the lift. I had problems with ventilation and the fact that there wasn't one right-angle in the place.
Who, in Bord Gais, signed off on this building? According to the leaked reports pipes aren't bedded in properly and are liable to be punctured should you try and put up shelves etc.
Ditto ESB.
WHY have remedial works, ordered in 2009, not been carried out? Did Dublin City Council simply say 'you must fix this building it's unsafe' and then file and forget it?? In 2009 the Fire Officer ordered remedial works be carried out. Here I am, typing in 2011, telling you that nothing has been done.

My sister, and many like her, bought these apartments in good faith and instead they have been left living in a development that has never been completed (roads were never brought up to level etc). A building which is unsafe to live in. It's structurally sound insofar as it's standing but it's a fire trap.

A fire trap that several people have signed off on. So, to me, several people appear not to have done their jobs properly. Because several people didn't do their jobs properly everyone who lives in those buildings are going to be homeless come Monday. Equally, if not more so, galling is the fact that the shysters that are responsible for this development didn't even have the decency to be in the country for the hearing. One's in Portugal and the other in the UK.

A great friend of mine once worked in a Solicitors office in the city and whilst there she worked for a wonderful Solicitor (I know she's wonderful because she looked after my parents Will). This Solicitor once said of the apartments that were being flung up all over the city at the time (c.1992) that these apartments were the tenements of the future. She was right.

An RTE report reads as follows:

The High Court has ordered the evacuation of an apartment complex in Dublin because of serious concerns about fire safety.

Mr Justice Nicholas Kearns put a stay on his order until Monday, but ordered the fire service to maintain a presence at the complex over the weekend.

He said it was as grave a matter as he had ever seen in any court case.

The judge froze the assets of the developers until further notice and ordered that the papers in the case be sent to the office of the Director of Public Prosecutions before close of business today.

Dublin City Council had asked the High Court to evacuate the complex.

Fire Officer Donal Casey told the court that because of defects in the external walls of the Priory Hall complex in Donaghmede, fire could spread through an entire block within minutes.

Mr Casey also said the entire external wall of the development would have to be removed to fix the most serious problems. He said that part of the work would take around a month to complete.

He said a schedule of remedial works was originally agreed with the developers in December 2009 but it was never carried out.

There are 137 units occupied in the 187-unit development, which was built by development company Coalport Building Company.

Neither of the company's directors - Thomas McFeely and Lawrence O'Mahony - were in court.

A solicitor told High Court President Mr Justice Nicholas Kearns that Mr O'Mahony was in the UK and Mr McFeely was on his way back from Portugal.

Mr Justice Kearns asked what would happen to the owners and occupiers of the apartments. He said they were completely blameless.

He said it was extraordinary that Mr O'Mahony and Mr McFeely were not in the jurisdiction and had not given instructions to their solicitor.

Mr Justice Kearns has asked lawyers for Dublin City Council to find out what accommodation can be provided to those who will have to leave their homes. The judge said this was a very, very serious emergency.

He said he was disposed to grant the order sought by the city council but defer it until Monday.

However, the judge said he would be asking the Dublin Fire Brigade to maintain a presence at the development until Monday.

He said he did not want residents to be panicked or terrified. He added that they were being asked to pay an incredible penalty for something they had no control over.

Toffee Apple Cake/Pie/Pudding

2011-10-11T19:15:00.001+01:00

I bake for a living. Kind of. Bernie does my baking but, occasionally I have to do it. My favourite types of cakes though are the old school ones. Puddings and tarts and tea cakes and the likes. So, imagine, the collective delight of the Geraghty clan when I found this recipe. I can't remember where I found it I just came across it today, scribbled on the back of a receipt. I had an unpeeled apple left over from a wedding cake cake recipe so . .. waste not want not and here you go.

This is best when just out of the oven as the sauce goes deliciously toffeeee-ish and wowsers. It's not pretty but it is delicious and a great way to use up the apples your friends give you. (I, thankfully, have lots of friends with Bramley Apple trees in their back gardens). Okay, it ain't pretty but so utterly delicious. Damn but I wish I could find where I found the recipe so I could point you in the direction of the pretty picture.

You'll need:

85g melted butter

140g self raising flour

100g golden caster sugar (I didn't have it so used ordinary caster sugar)

1 tbsp baking powder (doh, forgot this)

Pinch of salt

200ml milk

1 beaten egg

1 tsp vanilla extract

2 Bramley apples (or whatever cooking apples you have), peeled, cored and sliced.

For the Sauce

140g dark brown sugar

250ml water.

50g pecans, roughly chopped

Then you:

Heat oven to 180C/fan 160C/gas 4. Lightly utter a 2 litre ovenproof dish

Tip the flour, sugar and baking powder, along with a pinch of salt, into a large bowl. Mix together the milk, butter, egg and vanilla extract and stir into the dry ingredients until you get a smooth batter. Arrange the apples in the dish, spoon the batter on top and smooth with a knife until the apples are covered. (Didn't need to use knife as batter was quite liquid).

For the topping, pour 250ml boiling water over the sugar and stir together until smooth. Pour the liquid over the pudding mixture, then scatter over the pecans.

Bake for about 40 mins until the pudding has risen and is golden. Use a big spoon to serve the pudding, making sure you get some of the gooey caramel sauce covering the bottom of the dish. Serve with pouring cream, warm custard or vanilla ice cream. Or, as happened in our house today, simply place the dish in the middle of the table and hand the savages, Himself included, a big spoon.

An Idiot abroad??

2011-10-11T15:17:00.003+01:00

We've all watched the Karl Pilkington programme of the same name, right? Well, he has people telling him where to go and what to do . . . even if he doesn't like it.

Me? Well I have a hopeless sense of direction and am heading to Sao Paolo in two weeks. For my brother's wedding.

I'm freaking out. Man.

Firstly, there's the getting to Amsterdam and making the correct connection flight. What if they don't send my bags with the new connection? What if I get bloody lost in the airport. Did happen once in Dublin. Got so lost that, on my to Manchester!!, I ended up going back through passport control. As if I was coming IN to the country? How the feck did I manage that? Then I had to exit through arrivals before booting back into departures. Never told anyone that before.

So then I get to Brazil. I'm staying in a house with my bro and, when they arrive, couple of his mates. I cannot tell you how delighted I was to hear today that there are more Irish people coming to the wedding. Even if they are all young enough to be my brother and are single. And mental. And probably not caring if i get lost when out with them. Or not.

Sao Paolo is huge. Bigger than London and has 20million, yup you read it correctly twenty million, people living in it. It's so huge that the beach is 100's kilometres away. I've never been further from the sea than . . I dunno, Birmingham City.

I got lost once in London, leaving Himself in a Virgin Megastore (THE megastore I believe), got on a tube and stayed on it for 15 minutes. Got off tube and wandered for a bit before getting bored and heading into another Virgin store. Only to find Himself there. I asked how he'd gotten there and he told me he'd never left. HE NEVER LEFT!!! I'd travelled for over an hour only to end up right where I started. I'm going to be in Sao Paulo, bigger than London, only they don't speak English. They speak Portuguese. I can say hello and goodbye and thanks. But only to women. I can't remember how to say thank you to men, there is a difference you know..

It's a huge city and there is so much to do and see I'm feeling ill even thinking about it. It's like that time, last year, when I finally got to go to the V&A Museum only to be so gobsmacked by the sheer size and volume of exhibits I had to sit down quietly and then, after checking out the gift shop, leave.

Apparently I don't need insect repellent but they have big, BIG, spiders. Spiders with the name of 'The Wandering Spider' WTF?? Mind you, they also have this cute little chap who is rather cute. Only on video mind. He looks like Carnival.

Food doesn't worry me as it's meant to be amazing and drink equally so. But getting lost does bother me and I swear on Billy the Dog's favourite food bowl that if my brother loses me I'll hunt him down and . . don't know what I'll do to him yet but it will be something dramatic.

I don't want to come across as an oaf but I am genuinely nervous. I love travelling but, here's the thing, I have always had Himself by my side. Or Carol. Both are good. So to be travelling alone is terrifying.

Actually, I did go to Istanbul and Urfa in Turkey with Eoin (the brother) before. But there was Him, Michelle and the mental mother of one of my sister's friends. PLUS, this is a big plus and therefore worthy of capital letters, I had nos. 1 and 2 with me which meant I had to be focused. I mean, they trusted me not to get lost, even though we did, and it kept my head straight.

I have no one on this trip to keep my head straight.

Bugger, but I wish it were this day two weeks. I'd be nearly there now. Okay, so I wouldn't be nearly there, but it would be Tuesday and that's nearly Friday.

When did I blink?

2011-10-10T08:30:00.002+01:00

Yesterday all of them, no. 2 in particular, got excited playing Little Big Planet and asked me to upload this to YouTube. Their second video!! Whilst doing that I remembered that we have 2 video cameras floating around and thought 'how much easier for them to make their movies' if I dug them out. Right now they're using Himself's iPhone.

Oh God. I wish I'd left things as there were.

Found both cameras and inside each was a tape! On one of the tapes #1 was about 4, #2 was approx. 15 months and #3 was approx. 4 months. On the other tape we were in Disneyland Paris with nos. 1 and 2. No. 3 got to stay and be adored by his nana and granddad.

Did I blink?

My babies have gone from that to uploading videos on YouTube in a blink of an eye.

Christ but do I feel sad. I'd forgotten how small and pudgy the middle one was and how squeaky the eldest one was. I'm smiling at the memories but inside it feels like somethings after tearing. Am such a sad old bint really.

I blinked and 6 years have whizzed by. It's true you know, when people tell you to stop wishing their childhoods away. 'Cos you do, 'if only they were over the crawling bit', 'if only they could feed themselves' etc. etc.

No. Time to stop. Time to enjoy. One day, you'll blink again and they'll have their own babies.

Dossing in sunshine

2011-10-08T22:42:00.000+01:00

Zzzzzzzzzzzz. Woke up to the sad news that Ireland are out of the Rugby World Cup. Beaten by, damn it, Wales. Fell back asleep again.

Then up and dossing with nos. 2 and 3. Scared the shit out of no. 2 by showing him a video where you're happily watching a car drive down a country road accompanied by soothing, lyric fm, type music, only to have a frickin' zombie leap in front of you screaming. Myself, no. 1 and no. 3 jumped and laughed in a nervous way. No. 2, today, covered his eyes and started howling. (It's 10.34pm and he's in bed beside me!!) Not a clever move. So, to cheer him up, the two of us made soup. Tomato soup and it's delicious. Left the kitchen in tatters and legged it to meet two lovely pals for a quick (er, 3 hour coffee). Nice to catch up. Nice to be catching up in the sunshine.

Drove home, topless!!! Obviously the car was topless not me, there would be far too many crashes if I were topless. Can you imagine???? Evil cackle.

Got home, grabbed Himself and the kids and headed to St. Anne's Park where I finally saw the famous Rose Gardens and Billy nearly went demented with all the squirrels legging it all over the place. Squirrel?!?!?!

Then, we stumbled across the perfect tree and I got to photo my 'family tree'. Whatcha think?

Death of my generation's Thomas Edison

2011-10-07T12:04:00.000+01:00

On Wednesday night, 5th October, Steve Jobs died. I learnt about it on my ipod. Made me smile. He once said ". "Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn't matter to me … Going to bed at night saying we've done something wonderful … that's what matters to me." He sounds like he was a great man. Plus, he made Pixar and that has made my life happy.

Photo source: (Photo credit: Johnathan Mak)

Mammy is cooking to tonight!!!!

2011-10-07T08:53:00.000+01:00

Himself has been doing most of the cooking lately. Since he was made redundant from his job he seems to be out to make me redundant from mine by doing everything I used to do. Some of it he does better but some of it . . . nah! He makes a mean roast dinner and Fry up but I win hands down at making tasty dinners. No, don't get me wrong, his roasts and fries are legendary but his day to day meals are kind've . . . alright. He's back at college in the evening now and I get to cook with no one telling me I'm messy and disorganised (which, by the way, I would never deny). I've also got fed up with the kids taking the piss out of me by saying I never EVER make dinner anymore.

So last night, cakes out early, I thought right, time to cook. This isn't high dining but it is delicious and it uses those little jars on the door. You know the jars, the spice jars!!! I added a tablespoon of marscapone as I had some left over and I also added a tablespoon of sugar to sweeten the tomatoes (I find tinned tomatoes sometimes need this to bring their natural flavour out.

You'll need (for 5 people):

Good glug olive oil (2 tbsp).

8 nice pork sausages, don't use cheap ones as not worth the taste, with the skin removed.

2 garlic cloves.

1 tsp fennel seeds.

2 tsp smoked paprika

2 pinches of chili flakes.

2 x 400g tin chopped tomatoes.

Generous splash of red wine (I used 8 ice cubes worth, I always freeze left over wine for cooking)

Approx. 300g penne pasta (or the swirly one or the one that looks like fat penne i.e. rigatoni

Then you:

Heat the olive oil in a non stick pan. Pinch small pieces of sausage into the pan (or roll into small balls which is what I did because I didn't read the bit about just pinching bits of sausage off?!) and cook until browned. Add the garlic and cook for a minute before adding the spices and cooking for another minute. Add the tomatoes, wine and sugar and simmer for 20 minutes. Now, I actually cooked it for about 40 minutes to an hour as I wanted really thick sauce. If you are adding marscapone cheese you add it . . now!
Cook your pasta of choice according to pack instructions and then toss in with sauce.

original recipe (and better photographs) .. . here!

Oh. Excuse me?!

2011-10-05T08:37:00.001+01:00

My car farted!! That's what Paul said. Paul is my hero mechanic who, the more I know him, the more I love him. He arrived back with the car today. The car that's had me in tears since it 'stopped' on Saturday . . . halfway to a cake delivery no less. Been terrified about how much it was going to costs as we're a bit, er, skint. Thinking of doing deals with all sorts of people but instead it turned out that it wasn't something hugely expensive. Paul's computer talked to the Ford's computer and the Ford basically explained: "yeah, so I was driving along, was running low but knew I'd make it when all of a sudden "Ppppppaaarhrrhrhrhap'. Jesus, I was mortified. I mean, it was obviously me but what could I do?? No dog to blame. So I decided to just shut down. Fucking mortified I was. Couldn't look them in the face, yeah, best to just turn off and sleep'. Seriously, that's what happened. Nothing major, the car just parped.

I love Paul.

p.s. I also love the many caking friends I've made. I tried to drop out of one of the forums I'm on as have been totally miserable during the week. Money worries etc. but one of the lovely ladies arrived to bring me to the meeting ('get out Niamh, it'll cheer you up') and then the several who I met there made me nearly weep with laughter and then I got a lift home off the wonderful Nic. Who is exactly as she is on-line.

Special mention to my mate Liz who, well, she's great. And Ms. Urban Stems herself. Neither are cakers, although Liz has volunteered, but they listen, don't judge and (best of all) make me laugh. Think myself and Ms. Urban scared the shit out of some squirrels in Malahide Castle yesterday whilst roaring with laughter.

p.p.s. People I don't love. My local Credit Union. On the radio you can listen to ads from end of the day to the next saying 'yes, we're you're local credit union' and 'we're better than the banks' and 'we're here for you'. Well let me tell you , they are not all that 'here for you'. I rang yesterday, being grown up and facing things head on, and asked for three months leave on my loan repayments only to be told 'NO!' Apparently Credit Unions don't do moritoriums and whilst they can extend your loan plan or use your shares they will not cut you any leeway with regards to being up shit creek and needing a month or two to get straight. I could send in a letter with a sob story explaining exactly why I need them to transfer three months of shares off my loan but it might not get me anywhere. How is it that when you, classic saying this, owe the bank millions it's their problem but when you owe them €387 it's yours?? Anyway, Paul came up trumps (pardon the pun) and I can make the payment. But fuck, I am annoyed. I did what you're meant to do and asked for 3 months off to get accounts straight and it was declined. I have a twenty year history with the credit union, 3 different branches, have never missed a payment but it doesn't seem to count for anything.

Cuppa?

2011-10-04T15:28:00.002+01:00

Don’t you love when you get something in the post that isn’t a bill? Lately everything that comes to the house from our postman (he is a man!) is either a bill or a DVD for Himself. Or a parcel for my lovely next door Scottish neighbour. So, imagine my delight when I opened a parcel, addressed to me, and found a big green box. A box of tea and coffee!

A while back I’d spoken to the lovely people in Cafe Cuba and they asked if I’d be interested in trying their range of Organic Coffee (they even do a decaf one which, sshhh, my ten year old son loves). I said ‘yeah, sure why not but I’m not really a coffee person’ to which they replied ‘try our tea then’. So I did. Actually I tried both and had several mates try them too and I have to say I am impressed.

The coffee (non decaf) is really smooth. First time in ages I’ve made coffee in that little coffee pot (my French Press Pot was accidentally smashed by Himself earlier this year and, now that I think of it, has yet to be replaced). We had friends over for breakfast (very Nigella eh?) and were having a sausage feast i.e. as many different kinds of sausages that we could fit on the grill and lots of batch bread. Clodagh isn’t a fan of tea, the way I like it (strong with milk and sugar – an Irish cuppa) but she does love Green Tea and this one is fabulous. It doesn’t have that aftertaste that some other green teas have. She wasn’t the first to say that, a friend the day before said the same thing “It doesn’t taste like it’s ‘good’ for you”. I also liked it by the way but I’m more a fan of Mint and Berry Teas. So back to the coffee, first off I made it, put the pot on my cheese board and brought it to the table with suitably pretty cups then I went around wondering what ‘that’ smell was. Turns out that those little coffee pots get very hot and burn wood. Worth it though, coffee was delicious and, again, no bitterness or aftertaste. I made a pot of the decaf for the ten year old (don’t judge me) and he lapped it up. Didn’t mention smoothness or bitterness or anything like that just drank it and smacked his lips.

So? Their other teas. So far I have tried: Pure Black - nice with milk and sugar ( I never said I was anything other than a philistine) and Himself said it’s lovely as it’s meant to be imbibed . . just as it is. Pure Green, delicious. Earl Grey, okay I hate Earl Grey Tea and my friend who does like it is currently avoiding house renovations by hiding in Courtown. I did, however, bake cupcakes with the tea and it’s really nice. You can really get that Bergamot flavour. Very Berry is really, really nice. I drank it cold when the weather was hot. Spring Mint. I love mint tea and I love this mint tea. It’s very refreshing and it’s nicely minty and, again, there is no aftertaste. Have yet to try their Golden Mango (it’s raining!!) but will let you know how I get on.

The Green Tea is being divvied out to those who know I have a stash of the good stuff and I’ll let you know what they think. Oh, you can read all about Cafe Cuba here and, love this, they are based just up the road from where Himself and myself bought our first house. AND!!!! And, their tea range is called 'Cha', don't know whether it's a Nepalese/Tibetan thing but that's what my ma and da used to say when they wanted a cup of tea when we were kids. "Niamh, make us a cup of cha".

No Pants Dance

2011-10-03T18:54:00.001+01:00

Yeah, I'll get back to that. But firstly . . . my lovely friend G. rang me today to see how I was. Have decided to abandon facebook as I'm tired. Tired and broke. So fucking broke. Car's shagged, boiler needs seeing to. #1 is miserable and #2 is being kissed by a boy he doesn't like?! The credit union aren't happy about giving me a moratorium on a loan I have (3 months not paying €300 would get me straight every which way - sad isn't it that being behind/struggling to catch up with bills to the tune of €1000 can fuck everything up so much) but instead seem to think me missing three payments and slating an excellent credit rating would be preferable. So all of the above made me think 'fuck it, pull head in and chill'.

Then G. rang to see if I was okay. I don't know what it is about that girl, I've only known her for a year and a bit, but she has this ability to make me laugh and be funny. We laugh together and I always feel great when getting off the phone. Have lots of other wonderful friends but G. does it for me every time. Funny that.

She has her own problems, like stingy in-laws. Let's not mention work and her hubby has just been made redundant but she rings me to check I'm okay and I love her for that.

So, she rang to check I was okay and then told me about this cake she has to do. A 'No Pants Dance' cake. WTF????? Yup, apparently a big craze at the moment is to dance with your kacks around your knees so all the world can see your pants! It's not enough to just show the waistband of flashy boxers anymore (or your thong??) but instead you drop your trews and boogie.

How? Jesus. How do you dance with your trousers around your knees???? Why would you want to waddle like a penguin? Has Mr. Poppers Penguins created a new dance craze?

So funny. So glad it's not me making the cake. Wonder do people ever consider we're working with sugar and we're not I.L.M.

Conversation then went on to how there are bars where the ladies (using that term as loosely as possible) hand in their knickers to the barman for free booze. Seriously!! If I handed my er, knickers into the barman I could have drinks for the entire night, week, one for everyone in fact. Don't think they'd be that interested in my er, not so skimpies. Those skimpy knickers were long ago resigned to the back of the knicker drawer.

I remember, years ago, hearing of a 'thing' that was happening at Wesleys (rugby club), where there used to be a disco every week for teenagers (think it's still on in fact) where the girls wore their thongs around their wrists to show they were available for fun. 'What kind of fun?' I hear you ask? Well, a pair of knickers wrapped around the girl's wrist meant she was available for blow jobs and anal sex. Never vaginal sex as you might get pregnant. I swear to God. On nos. 1, 2 and 3's teddy bears. What does the girl get out of this arrangement other than a bad name?

So. Three cheers for all the wonderful friends I have. Friends who would be furious I haven't confided in them and three cheers for G., for making me laugh and reminding me that it's the world that's mental and not me.

p.s. for a rough idea of the 'no pants dance' follow this.

You know you're a child of the 80's when:

2011-10-02T21:04:00.000+01:00

You remember when the biggest mystery in the world was who shot J.R.
You remember a 'Man's got to chew, what a Man's got to chew'.
You remember when there was no breakfast TV and when TV shut down at midnight, and when there was nothing on TV in the middle of the day except for that test card girl with the stupid clown and a blackboard.
You know that another name for a keyboard is a Synthesizer
You can name at least half of the members of the elite Brat Pack.
You remember when ATARI was a state of the art video game system.
And Pong was tops until Donkey-Kong came along,which you thought would never be surpassed.
You own any cassettes.
You remember dancing to popsters like Debbie Gibson and Tiffany.
You were led to believe that in the year 2000 we'd all be living on the moon, wearing silver suits and driving cars that flew... because that's what Raymond Baxter and Judith Hann said would happen!
You know who Max Headroom is. But did you ever find out if he was r-r-r-r-r-real?
You wore fluorescent, neon clothing.
You Believed that By the power of Greyskull, you HAD the power.
Partying like its 1999 seemed SO far away.
You remember when Mark from Eastenders was Tucker Jenkins.
And Frank was saying 'GGGGGGGO!!!!' on Runaround.
You watched Carry On films and thought they were really rude.
You wore a banana clip at some point during your youth, or knew someone who did.
You hold a special place in your heart for Back to the Future.
You remember David Hasselhoff when he wore clothes and talked to his car.
You know where to go if you wanna go where everybody knows your name.
You thought Molly Ringwald was REALLY cool.
You actually thought Dirty Dancing was a REALLY good movie.
You have heard of Cabbage Patch Dolls.
You remember and/or own any Care Bear'.
Poltergeist freaked you out.
You carried your lunch to school in a Gremlins or an ET lunchbox.
You have ever pondered why Smurfette was the ONLY female smurf.
You wore bike shorts underneath a short skirt and felt stylish, or knew someone who did.
You ever had a Swatch Watch.
You wanted a Morph.
You know the profound meaning of Wax on, Wax off.
You had WonderWoman or Superman underwear.
You remember that spiky flat-tops were the rave after Top Gun.
You rolled your jacket sleeves up to the elbow.
You know what Wham Bars, Spangles, Pacers and Banjos are.
You used to boast about how they would achieve those motorcycle formation shots in CHiPs.
You saw Ghostbusters 7 times.
You knew all the opening monologues to: The A-team, StreetHawk and Airwolf.
Kajagoogoo? Thompson Twins? FGTH? Twisted Sister?
You remember Nena's hairy armpits
Saturday was Multi Coloured Swap Shop day.
You remember the theme to the Banana Splits.
The words 'I'm gonna live forever, i'm gonna learn how to fly' are special to you.
You or someone you know had an Evil Knievel toy.
All girls wanted to be a Charlie's Angel.
All boys wanted all girls to be Charlie's Angels too!
You wore leg-warmers.
You know what "Dealy Boppers" are.
There was nothing strange about Bert 'n' Ernie living together... or Morecambe and Wise sharing a bed!
You've ever said "bright light, bright light" in a strange high-pitched voice
You know the theme tune and the names of all the actors and characters in Dallas & Dynasty.
You ever wished your hair/clothes/lifestyle resembled the above (or they actually did!).
Remmington makes you think of something other than shaving equipment.
K-Tel was a major force in music.
You remember when PC had one meaning, rather than three.
(Girls) You owned a pair of Pixie Boots, generally worn with leg warmers!
(Boys) You owned a pair of pale grey slip-ons, generally worn with white toweling socks!

When we were young

2011-10-02T19:25:00.000+01:00

When you were young, you went to bed when Glenroe was over.
If you die from alcohol poisoning, you're considered a lightweight.
'Fuck off' means 'Are you serious?'.
The person that you insult most is probably your best friend.
Saying 'I will yeah' means that you definitely won't.
"Fuck it, its grand' means that you couldn't be bothered to finish it properly.
'Hes fond of a drink' means he suffers from severe life-threatening alcoholism.
Saying you're going for a drink means you might not be seen again for 3 days.
Crisps are called 'Taytos' and fizzy drinks are called 'minerals'.
'For the craic' is the best reason for doing anything.
The best cure for a hangover is more drink.
Nobody can go a day without saying 'Jaysus'.
'Meeting' has a double meaning.
Tea is the solution to every problem,.
And water is the solution to every GAA injury.
"I got stuck behind a tractor' is a perfectly valid reason for being late.
We eat Tayto sambos for lunch, and ham sandwiches on the way to Croke Park.
You can insert the name of a gardening tool into any sentence and it still makes sense, e.g. 'I had a rake of drink last night' or "I'll be out in a minute, I'm just shoveling down the dinner'.
Its perfectly acceptable to call your mother 'mammy' even though you are a fully grown adult.
Saying 'Now we're sucking diesel' means that you are happy with the outcome of the situation.
Drinking 'tae' is everyone's favourite past time.
You're scared of the wooden spoon.
The word 'like' goes in every sentence.
You can say "Any craic' to a garda and you won't get arrested.
'The dogs' bollocks' means something brilliant

Upgrade?

2011-10-02T17:13:00.000+01:00

I have finally, finally gotten my head around the fact that I am going to Sao Paolo in a couple of weeks. Eoin and Isabella are getting married and are going to have the wedding in Brazil. They're getting officially married here on the 17th October but they're going to do it in Brazil too. Kind've like myself and Himself did way back when, only in reverse.

So . . have been reading about Sao Paola and wow. Here's what I now know:

Sao Paulo is home to 18 million people. Many of those people are very rich but many more are very poor.
It'saSan Paulo fact that the people love their football - the city has three A division teams!!
Sao Paulo is the third largest cities in the world.
Brazillians are not knownfor their timliness.
Great shopping.
Rainforests.
One river. The Amazon. This contains 20% of all of the fresh water in the world.
Daslu, just don’t plan on walking to Daslu. It’s against the rules to arrive on foot at São Paulo’s most over-the-top shopping emporium. A taxi is one option, though a much chicer option is to arrive by chopper at the rooftop heliport. Apparently Servants in black-and-white uniforms dole out free espresso, biscotti and sparkling water at bars in the store. Yup, it's a shop.

Have a list of things I want to do and see. In 7 days, two of which will be taken up by a, sorry, the wedding.

The Museu de Arte de São Paulo (MASP) museum possesses Latin America's most comprehensive collection of Western art. Hovering above a concrete plaza that turns into an antiques fair on Sundays
The Beach. Any one of 'em.
Banespa skyscraper, Brazil's version of the Empire State Building.
Feira da Liberdade - Sunday Japantown fair
Feira da República - Sunday crafts fair
Bela Paulista - it's a bakery!!!!!

Am sure there is tonnes more stuff to see but Eoin and his bride to be can show me what they reckon is the best of Brazil.

Fingers crossed I can charm someone in KLM into giving me an upgrade. Going to be lovely and beg "please please can I have an upgrade first time I've been on a plane in three years, first time in ten years without a boy on my lap please please can I have an upgrade" type thing.

Oh deah

2011-10-01T22:53:00.001+01:00

Just. Just when I thought I had enough to make a payment on the credit card (having JUST paid #1 back for my internet page) the car broke. Broke!!!

Was delivering a cake to Artane, wasn't meant to be as am still (week 3 and counting) sick but B. hates doing it, when car broke down. Thought I'd run out of petrol, how embarrassing, so Himself came, nos. 2 and 3 in the back of the car, grabbed B. and a huge castle cake and they legged it to Artane. I waited in the car and soon they were back again with a thingie of diesel. Yeah. Turned out it wasn't a 'you're a gobshite and you ran out of petrol' issue but instead a 'the car is bolloxed' thing. So Axa's roadside assist said it would take an hour for someone to get to me and then asked 'what do you want us to do when we get to you?' Eh? "I want you to fix my sodding car". Turns out they can only fix it if it's something other than injector airlocks. Sigh.

So. Back to being skint. Quite frustrating to nearly, ever so nearly, get close to getting straight only for it to go tits up. Again.

Question: What do Winnie The Pool and John The Baptist have in common?

Answer: The same middle name. Boom boom.

Sorry not been in touch

2011-09-22T22:06:00.000+01:00

What a week. What a fortnight! Basically I've been sick for the past two weeks. A cold turned into blech and then blech turned into a sinus infection and then migraine and then I got shouted at and . .yeah, what a week.

I seem to be attracting men, random people, who seem to think it's perfectly alright to scream and shout at me and tell me exactly what they think of me.

The first time, couple of weeks back, I was 'screamed' at via email. Heart banging I replied and he screamed some more. He then, man that he is, apologised by text. Twat. Not man enough to come to my door and shout at me and definitely not man enough to apologise for making my day/night fucking hell. Bastard.

The next bloke is getting a cake off his wife for his birthday. I needed a quick photo as the photos I had weren't good enough and when he saw me take a quick snap he was out like a flash, whereupon he started shouting at me, threatening and generally being unpleasant in my direction.

W.T.F??????????????????????? What is it with people these days that they are so angry? Why can't they apologise when they realise they're in the wrong???? That's two men who have made me cry like a baby. Two men in two weeks. Fuckers.

Right, as I said, not well, sinus infection. Not going to inflict myself on you anymore.

Going to lie down.

Nxxxx

p.s. A caker, a wonderful caker has hinted that she is bringing someone special to Dublin next year. Please, please let it be Carlos.

Hmmm?

2011-09-13T22:01:00.000+01:00

Tan (#2 under old system lol) is making his communion this year and this evening I went to the first meeting about it. I really like Fr. F. and felt sad for him that he had to say 'I will never be alone with your child', I appreciated it but felt sad at the same time.

What didn't make me sad but instead kind've pissed me off was Fr. F. saying that each and every first holy communion child would have their name put on a prayer card and given to a member of the church going community who would then pray for that child for the year.

There's a great scene in the West Wing which sprung to mind when this was said:

LEO

.......Can anyone report anything good?

C.J.
600,000 Evangelicals are praying for me... so... we have that going for us.

LEO
What the hell are yoy talking about?

C.J.
It's true-- a guy gave me this card: "365 in Media."

SAM
Who are the others?

C.J.
I don't know, let's see... "Hugh Hefner, Don Imus, Howard Stern..." all the late-night guys. This is... one, two, three... this is the Editorial Board of The New York Times. This isn't a good list, this is a list of people who are going to hell!

TOBY
Yes.

C.J.
They're not praying for me because they like me! It's 'cause I'm doomed to eternal damnation!

SAM
Well, if you weren't, it'd be a waste of praying.

I'm not sure but I don't think a seven, nearly eight, year old needs around the year praying.  Hmmmmm?

West Wing Source:  Here

West Wing - Why are we changing maps?

2011-09-13T21:46:00.001+01:00

Stumbled across this, still makes me laugh. I stopped doing Geography in 6th class. That's PRIMARY School, did S.E.S.P. in Secondary so . . this is mind blowing. This freaks me out lol.

So, here's a map of the world as we know it:

But, apparently, the world actually looks like this:

But probably should look like this:

Mental, eh?

Go have fun here, just like I did and baffle your mind. Damn, but it looks like Yan's room shall have to be redone as his map of the world just isn't right.

Look, I made another one.

2011-09-12T18:52:00.000+01:00

He's alright.

Standing on top of Twin Towers March 2000 a video by someone else

2011-09-11T13:01:00.004+01:00

Today is the 11th September. Ten years ago today Islamic Fundamentalists flew two planes into the WTC in New York. The year previous myself and Darren had got married in New York and stood on top of one of the towers and had photos taken, marvelled at how great New York is and tipped our heads against the glass so we could see straight down the side of the building onto the world below. The cars were so tiny, you couldn't even see the people. It was amazing. Back on the roof you could see the Brooklyn Bridge, Statue of Liberty and everything else. I took photos of us and Garry, our best man and mate, and we laughed and loved it. This isn't my video, it's someone else's. Someone else who, the year we got married, had stood on the top of New York and marvelled at how magical it all was. I like this video as it reminds me of a great time in my life and how fragile life can be.

Less than a year later it was all gone. All those people. It's strange but I'm crying for people I never knew today. I'm crying because I've remembered the lovely ice cream lady we met who was working in the lobby at the top of the tower. The lady who agreed $5 was a lot for one ice pop. Crying for the man who never got to hold his son. His son was due to be born the next day but his wife had gone to the WTC to see some work colleagues. He lost his family that day. I got to hold my first son Harry tight in my arms that night and every year, every September 12th I think of that man and the son who never got to be.

There is so much hatred on the web today. So many people on the likes of YouTube spouting hatred of all Muslims and Islam and . . . hatred. I don't understand how you can hate a whole race. I've said this before but 'how can you hate everyone you've never met?'. These men were extremists. Bitter and twisted and evil men who believed they were acting on God's instruction. I don't have a God as such, I'm Catholic but not a true believer any more, but I do believe in Love. And I remember from when I was young and in school that God was all about Love so I struggle to believe that a God, in any religion, would want such hatred and destruction and hatred.

So today I'm going to sit quietly and hold my kids tight, even though Arthur is driving me mad and light a candle for the son who was never born and for all those who died that day in the planes, the building, the pentagon and the families of those who died. Today I'll think about survivors, the firemen, policemen, doctors, priests and the rest of us. That candle will be lit for me too to try and remember not to hate, to listen and to reason, to argue and debate and above all not hate.

Fear of the unknown.

They are afraid of new ideas.

They are loaded with prejudices, not based upon anything in reality, but based on… if something is new, I reject it immediately because it’s frightening to me. What they do instead is just stay with the familiar.

You know, to me, the most beautiful things in all the universe, are the most mysterious.

quote source here

O.M.G!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2011-09-10T22:52:00.000+01:00

Everyone is in bed. I'm wide awake as I've spent most of the day dozing on and off with migraine. So I'm sat here updating the Perfectionist page and watching 'Pushy and Proud - Pamper Parlour Mums', a programme about mums who take their kids to beauty salons. Holy Shit!!

The kids on the show . . I don't know where to start. They get their eyebrows done, tanned, nails done, facials, you name it they have it done. Paid for by the mammies. Mammies who think 'ah sure this is what little girls do'. is it? When I was little we schlepped around in our ma's shoes (my ma had a fab pair of wine and black platform mules. Seriously!) and maybe had a schmear of lippie on but that was it. We pushed our prams up and down the street and chatted about the babbies and called each other Bernie a lot.

One of the mums said it was a 'responsible mother' who took her daughter to a beauty parlour. Am I missing something? I find it sad that little girls are being taught to be princesses and it's all about how they look. One little girl, 12, well, her mum takes her shopping every month and spends £200 on clothes so she can have nice stuff to wear. I swear to God but I don't think I've spent €200 (EURO!!) on clothes this year.

I also think by encouraging these kids to go to the salon every week they're kind've saying 'you're not good enough as you are, you need to be made prettier'.

Could be wrong though.

I don't think, if I had a daughter, I'd encourage her to fake tan it, fake nail it, fake hair it . . . it's all so fake. Can't do much for their self confidence either. Oh, and letting your kids go to the school disco, with a lot of young wans dressed as sexy school girls (whatever that's all about) and drink 'mocktails' with names like 'safe sex on the beach' and 'virgn mojito' is a good thing either.

I feel old you know. I do.

Yan Tan Tethera

2011-09-10T21:13:00.002+01:00

Yan Tan Tethera. This is what I shall be calling sons no. 1, 3 and 3 from now on. We had friends over for dinner last night and one of them, Chris, is from ooop north in England, from around Cumbria and the Lakes. He was telling us about a dictionary of Cumbrian Slang that we should look up but told me that 'one, two, three' is yan, tan, tethera. I've looked it up and this is how shepards used to count their sheep. Isn't it fabulous. So, Harry is Yan, Oscar is Tan and the light of my life (Arthur) is Tethera.

You can find out more about the dictionary here!

p.s You can find the Irish Slang Dictionary here!! Note similarities.

Understand?

2011-09-10T20:54:00.000+01:00

Just finished a very late dinner over which we discussed the movie we were about to watch, Toy Story 3. I said I didn't like that one at all as it was too sad whereupon # 3 piped up: "Is it because Andy grows up and leaves home and all the toys get given away and nearly die?"

Er, yeah, that's it. In a nutshell.

Look what I made

2011-09-09T12:09:00.000+01:00

He's not as streamlined and as dainty as I'd like but he's alright.

Sigh

2011-09-08T21:38:00.000+01:00

I'm an adult. An adult woman with friends who like me so why, oh why do I feel so upset doing drop off and pick up of the youngest Geraghty?

I've got mates from #1's class and some lovely pals from #2's class but #3?? Nowt. No one wants to know me. It shouldn't hurt but it kind've does. The really irritating thing is . . it's not like I want new friends anyway as I'm struggling to keep up with the ones I have anyway.

So why am I so upset that these women say hello one day and blank me the next? They are all so . . . grown up, or serious, or something? Most of them are on their first kid in the school and are very serious but . . all so grown up. I'm obviously far too immature for them. Must remember to grow thicker skin and not to care so much. Arse.

On the other hand . . .

2011-09-07T20:10:00.000+01:00

. . . my youngest son pee'd all over the passenger seat of my beatle today. He got distracted by #1's psp (??) and suddenly piped up "I've pee'd a bit".

A bit???????????? Nuh-uh!!! The fecking seat is awash with piddle. Poor fecker had to strip and seat quietly and with as much dignity as one can muster when sitting in only a school shirt and jumper while waiting for his brothers to finish school.

Pee'd a bit? My arse.

My gorgeous eldest son. . . .

2011-09-07T20:01:00.000+01:00

.. . . is having a bit of a meltdown. He's just gone into fifth class and is not a happy bunny. Apparently it's nothing to do with the big mix up of kids (at the end of 4th class all the classes are rejigged - school does it's best to keep 2-3 pals together but the idea is to mix them all up, help them make new pals and stamp out bullying) or the extra homework but seems to have come from this massive recap of all the maths they did in 4th class. A whole chapter devoted to recapping that apparently has to be finished by Friday. That's a lot of sums.

I spoke to his (lovely) teacher today l#1 spent a lot of yesterday crying. In school and out of it. He's spent a lot of today crying too. Thing is, when I talk to teachers I immediately turn into my 12 year old self and think I'm being given out to. Can't help it, I hate parent teacher meetings too as I'm not sure I'm grown up enough to have kids that go to school, sure aren't I only a kid myself? Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm not. Last year #1's teacher said she thought #1 had dyspraxia as he was very clumsy. I ummed and ahhed and asked if she was sure, she said she was so I said I'd keep an eye on him. I then stood up, turned around and fell over a chair. He doesn't have dyspraxia!! He's his mother's son. A clumsy wretch.

So, I spoke to the teacher and . . . I'm not sure either whether he has to finish the entire chapter by Friday. He was out Monday you see and so was the teacher so the kids were set onto their books (keeps them out of trouble) and he's way behind. Way behind and convinced he has to have it all finished by Friday. Which means he's sitting here panicking and I'm trying to remember if you divide by the top and multiply by the bottom when it comes to fractions (you don't, reverse it) but you do DO that way if you're trying to find the whole number and you only know what, say, 4/6's are worth. Fucking hell.

I'm 38 and doing fractions. Long division and multiplication. Oh, and angles . . . obtuse or acute??

The reason I'm doing them is that Himself and myself are so worried about the chap we've decided to do his homework for him. I've made sure he understands how the sum is done by making him do a few then I rip through the rest of them and scribble the answers in my cake notebook, along with formula.

Is this bad parenting? I do hope not because he's a sweetheart. A clever sweetheart who I think has got the wrong end of the stick and is driving himself to distraction by trying to complete over 200 sums by Friday morning.

Oh, and another thing. My lovely son, he got the worst of both myself and Himself. My 'worrying' nature and Himself's 'inability to talk about stuff that's scaring him'. Poor fecker. Mind you, he also got his father's quick wit, my soft side, my eyes and his father's confidence so he'll do alright. Love the daft bugger which is why this makes my heart ache so much. See?? I'm worrying about nothing too now.

What an interesting evening?!

2011-09-06T23:43:00.000+01:00

I make cakes, I love making cakes. I also love learning about making cakes. I've met a huge number of Irish Cakemakers recently and one of them encouraged me (and others, I'm not that special) to go along and see what the Dublin Sugarcraft Guild are all about and perhaps join.

So I did. So did Ger, fellow cake maker and partner in crime.

I nearly didn't make it due to an unprecedented amount of red lights but it's amazing how quickly you can get from Kinsealy to Blackrock when you need to. Sent Ger a text (whilst idling at another red light) telling her to go in and baggsie us some seats. She did. Down the back. Not because we were dossers but because the 'original members' were all parked up the front.

A lovely lady made a nice convertible cake, it was a good demo but she didn't talk very much throughout. Probably for a number of reasons, she was, er, elderly and she had a cold. The thing is . . if you don't talk everyone else will. So there she was, doing her thing and there everyone else was . . . yakking away not paying the blindest bit interest in her. Other than to argue across each other over the cost of alcohol (isoprophyl stuff NOT vodka).

Then came the highlight of the evening.

A row.

And proof that democracy is wasted on some.

Basically, I learned tonight, the Guild has become too big for the room it's in. So they need to move to bigger premises. Makes sense right? I mean, health and safety and all that jazz says you can't have that many people, knives and cups of hot tea floating around without someone getting hurt. Also, it's a bloody stuffy room and you can't really see what's what unless you get brought up front (whereupon you keep catching the eye of your partner in crime and cackling quietly to yourself, everyone must have thought I was some kind of simpleton). So, the 'for moving' women did their bit and made their point of why the Guild should move to Tallaght, great premises, tea facilities and . . . can't remember but it's not really relevant. The new place is bigger and better and on the M50 which suits most people.

Then yer wan, T., got up and well, basically she's not going anywhere because she set up the Guild. In Blackrock, don't you know?, and there was no way she was moving to, deep intake of breath, tallaght (small 't' because you could tell that's all she deemed it worthy of).

So they voted.

15 to stay put in the small parish hall in Blackrock and 28 to move to Tallaght.

Now, in normal land such a vote would mean that the 'nay's' lost and the 'yay's' won and off ye go to Tallaght but not here. Not in Blackrock. Nuh-uh!!!

The vote is counted and the chair (who up until that point had pretty much kept her arse on one as opposed to acting like one) said "So ladies, what'll we do?" WHATWHATWHAT????? What do you mean 'what'll we do?', you lost the vote, so you move, right? Nope! The Blackrock massive ain't moving for no-ong and especially nowhere like tallaght.

Really fucking annoying thing is that tallaght is only around the corner, really, from Blackrock once you're in a car. Fucking miles away from me. Bitches.

The leader of the grey brigade then got into her roomy VW and drove off. I mean, she could fit four other auld wans in the car and drive them to . . Tallaght and .............ARGH.

Long and short of it? Auld wans don't believe in Democracy.

Arses.

Ed Sheeran - You Need Me, I Don't Need You

2011-09-03T00:13:00.001+01:00

Heard of this chap a while ago. Love the video. Love it.

Spiderman!

2011-09-02T22:59:00.000+01:00

Was sitting quietly watching Tangled with nos. 2 and 3. 'Quietly' because there had already been a barney over which movie to watch. They each wanted a different one so I had them guess a number between one and five. #2 guessed er, number 2 and #3 had a strop. Put a stop to it but needless to say I think I came out the worse from it.

So, we were sitting watching Tangled when suddenly what looked like a mouse ran across the floor. Not afraid of mice but am terrified of SPIDERS!!! This was one BIG spider.

Caught him under a glass and managed to get him onto the coffee table. So, with one eye on the telly and one eye on the spider we watched fascinated as he (yeah, I know) started to shoulder the glass off the table. He jumped up and down too. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH. Put book on top of glass and legged it to a neighbours. Any neighbour.

Found Noel. He laughed and said 'er, spider?', Er, YEAH!!! He came over and when he saw it he understood why it sounded like I was talking in Capital Letters when I said SPIDER. He wrestled it out to the back garden and all was good.

A good friend rang and said 'did he kill it?' to which I replied 'No?!', 'Hmmmm, not good. Those things can run fast;. I laughed, we talked about cake and I went back to watching Rapunzel doing her thing. . . . . . there he was. The spiders little BIG brother. Got him under a glass but he was less happy. He started pogoing up and down. Back over to poor Noel.

Noel is my hero. My spiderman.

Y'hear that? That's another of the little freakin' things trying to kick over a glass. AAAAAAAAAAAGH. Indeed.

Last day of the school holidays

2011-08-30T21:48:00.000+01:00

Normally, on this day, the last day of the school holidays we go to Portmarnock Beach and have a fish and chip supper. This year? It's too bloody cold. Instead we went to the sweet shop in the village and had ice-cream there instead. Wasn't quite the same but what can you do when the seasons have gotten all mixed up and an Irish Summer seems to run from April to the end of July??t

Tomorrow it's time to measure the lads against the door and see how much they've grown since last September and ..... where the sodding hell has this year gone?? I mean, it seems like no time since the kids got their holidays and now, here we are again, it's time go go back. Bleugh.

Also, kind've crap this year. All the mums I know have gone up to JP's with #2's class. I only have #3 left in St.Syls. I don't know any of the parents in his class as I never bothered my arse to really get to know them 'cos the kids were meant to be divided up this year only now they haven't and some of them are really intense and shit!! I should have made the effort.

It'll all come out in the wash.

It's been a good summer over all. Forgetting the broken/not broken leg and #3 thinking he's 15 and all that, it's been a good summer.

Haven't shown you a cake in a while

2011-08-29T13:34:00.000+01:00

Haven't been overly happy with my cakemaking for a while now. Felt my mojo had gone, the fact that one of my favourite cakes didn't survive it's trip to where it was to be eaten messed everything up for me. Sad but true. But this cake I love. And I'm delivering it myself to the Grand Hotel in Malahide. Excited as I've been having such fun with the client, Merril, as she tried to organise it on the QT for her husband's 50th birthday.

Bad mother alert - be warned

2011-08-27T15:49:00.000+01:00

Recently I posted some photos of #3 eating icecream and just being cute as hell. Well I think I have a problem. I think I like the 2D version more than the 3D version.

It's not that I don't love the original but he's such bloody hard work. He'll get sodmething for you if you ask his brothers to fetch it. He'll do anything if you ask someone else to do it but should you ask him?? Major bloody drama: "I'm sick", "Aaaagh, I fell over", "Why is it always ME who has to do everything?" etc. etc.

It's driving me to distraction.

I love him. With all my heart. But sometimes the 2D version is easier to handle.

Things they say

2011-08-21T19:59:00.002+01:00

# 3. Yeah, remember in school we got to watch the cartoon on the attractive whiteboard?

Interactive white board!!

A photo of the past in the present

2011-08-20T19:21:00.000+01:00

Himself put me onto a great website. It's called Dear Photograph and it was set up by a fella who realised that he and his family were poring over photos at the table where some of the same photos were taken years before. He thought it would be cool to take a photo of the photo at the place where the photo was taken.

I've been playing. My family house doesn't exist anymore. It was pulled down and rebuilt so I have to play with different shots. Here's a few. One is of my brother running down the street we grew up on, it was taken on his communion day. The other is of the same brother's (the only brother) christening. And the third if of my eldest son, #1, and his mate P.

Funniest thing ever

2011-08-19T20:23:00.000+01:00

"I'm on a cake forum, Cake Buddies, for a gang of us cake makers. I'd posted a photo of Dilan on the forum to let them know she was here and fab. So this is the comment that Hannah posted:

"Aww she's gorgeous! My hubby just asked me what I was doing and I said I was looking at our cake page and he looked over my shoulder while I was looking at your photo and said 'is that a cake?'!!! Seriously.....men!?!?!?!?"

Wow. Dilan, 7lb 1oz born at 7.11am on the 19th August 2011

2011-08-19T10:44:00.000+01:00

I am so very tired. Nothing compared to Fiona, my awesome sister, who gave birth to my niece this morning. They're both awesome. I am not so awesome but possess tremendous powers of speed.