The Unluckiest Teenager

My little sister, Ró, is pretty cool. She's 15 going on 16, very grounded, funny, intelligent and unfortunately for her a bit unlucky, well recently she has been at least.

Unlike her more slutty friends, who have been serial snogging young greasy child-men for the last few years, she has taken a more discerning approach to boys. She has her standards and she's been sticking to her guns! I didn't show the same restraint myself I'm ashamed to admit but applaud her and her principles! Besides I've seen the crowd she hangs out with, and can see her point!

But anyhoo it was with delight that I received a text from lil sis in which she wanted to inform me that she was going on a date, that the boy was reallllly nice nice (which I take is a good thing) and she was very excited/happy.

Oh joy thought I she's off the mark!

But really there is very little justice in the world, the poor chicken is now laid up at home with an enlarge spleen and, wait for it....


The unluckiest teenager


Glandular fever.

All you can do is laugh! And bless her she does see the funny side of it too!

What a week eh?

Ok I have no doubt that this topic has been discussed ad nauseum in the blogosphere all week but I didn't get a chance to come here until tonight so now it's time for my thoughts on the Recalcitrant Rotweiler of Ranelagh!

It was a weird story wasn't it? I mean we're all used to Mr. McDowell doing his own thing and not really giving a damn for the consequences but here we had a situation where he not only lost his temper, his composure but also let's face it his dignity.

I'm not a big blue shirt fan, and while they may have had fascist leanings in the past (cue Eoin O'Duffy and his marching band) it was a strange and wild use of fantasy to claim that poor mild mannered Richard Bruton (or Brutal the younger if you will) was the next Joseph Goebels. But to wake up the following morning to hear our esteemed Minister for Justice apologising on Morning Ireland really confused my start to the day! I don' t think the presenters really knew what to do with him or his apology!

But then to top it all off he half heartedly apologised also for claiming Green Party supporters were responsible for trashing the PD's headquarters during the recent riots. But I actually don't think he did apologise for that one and it was just smoke and noise to cover the fact that he still things the muesli eating, sandal wearing anarchists were to blame.

He's a bit of an odd fish really isn't he? He appears to the type of man who would fight with his own toe nails if there wasn't anything better to do! And I suppose for a man in his position it does take a lot of courage to admit when you're wrong, we all know it stinks when you get caught out but I really don't think he had another option in this case!

What DOES it mean to be Irish?

With the coming and going of Paddy's weekend I, like many others in the media and in the country at large found myself pondering the big question as stated above. I found myself looking around at our country and scratching my head over the furore and drinking plans being made by so many over our national saints day.

I read in the newspapers how kids in primary schools have no idea who St. Patrick was, I heard from a priest I know that the only child called Patrick in a local national school recently visited by him was a little Jehova's witness boy, who really couldn't care less about the patron saint of this country.

And then I watched the parade in Dublin on Friday from the safety and comfort of my sofa, to see if I could glean some inspiration about why we feel need to celebrate our Irishness in such a loud and boisterous way. I was left feeling a bit bemused and even more confused by that experience I have to say. Apparantly Irishness is about dressing up in silly costumes and/or playing brass instruments, or as in one very memorable display, wearing a bikini in the freezing cold and pretending that your're Brazillian and it's Mardi Gras??? I'm very confused about that one.

And still I was left without an answer about what it means to be Irish.

Saturday however brought a whole new set of experiences for me to ponder and it also brought some results.

You see I now am firmly of the opinion that what it means to be Irish is simpy that we prove that we are better than the English.

Our wonderful, dogged and talented men in green showed me on Saturday that even when I had given up, there is still hope that we can win. I was so sure that it would be another gut wrenchingly disappointing day of rugby, with the English finding their courage and their mark and wiping the floor with us, as has happened so often in the past. But this weekend it didn't. That victory together with the fantastic record 10 wins at Cheltenham by Irish trainers showed me what it means to be Irish without a shadow of a doubt.

My faith in this small nation, and my pride in being part of it despite all of its failings and the aspects of our culture which I feel is not to be lauded, was in fact reinforced. So there you have it, it was a momentous weekend for me in many ways!

Running on Empty

Ever see that film - Running on Empty? It was one of my absoloute favourites as a teenager. It had River Phoenix in it, a James Taylor soundtrack and a teenage love story as well as radical political undertones and overtones! I loved it, I must have watched it at least 20 times! Ah memories.



Anyway it only came to mind cause I feel like I'm running on empty at the mo! But the James Taylor soundtrack in my head will keep me going I just know it will!

Time is ticking by for us. The house is being viewed is attracting some interest but no bloody offers yet, which is beyond frustrating. We have more people coming back for a second look this week and I hope to God somebody decides that they want to live here for definate. At least then we can relax a little knowing that we'll get a decent sum out of the place and can realise our dreams and aspirations! There's a lot riding on this for us you know!

On the other side we're off country bound for the second weekend in a row this Paddy's day, I hope to view the car of my dreams that Daddy dearest has sourced for me and also to do a lot of lying around shouting at rugby games. I can't wait! Wouldn't it be marvellous if we won not only the triple crown but also the Six Nations? I suppose I can dream eh?

Congratulations and Celebrations!

I have a sneaky suspicion that this blogging lark in general may not be destined for anonymity for much longer. It was with delight and excitement that I came across muchos media coverage of the Irish Blog awards which took place over the weekend.

Congratulations to one and all, especially Twenty Major for his THREE awards and to Sinead who is by far and away one of my favourite bloggers.

I came across coverage of the awards in high profile media areas such as the Last Word with Matt Cooper and in the Irish Times which can only be a good thing for the Irish Blogosphere!

But it did get me thinking, who would have thought the bould Twenty would become an Ambassador for us all!

Randomness and Ramblings

Well I haven't even dropped by here myself in recent days to see what's up and who's coming to visit, so if you are sticking with me thanks! I'm sorry for the crappiness and the not postingness but between scrubbing and painting (or watching the boy paint, to be strictly fair!) oh and crap broadband connections even checking my email has become a bit of a luxury recently.

I've had lots of thoughts over the last week and have even composed whole posts on scraps of paper but now that I'm finally sitting here I don't want to write about what happened a week ago! This blogging thing is a very current medium I find!

Anyway here are a few pics of our little garden coming to life. We planted hundreds of bulbs last year and it's just amazing to see them growing and blooming, despite the horrible weather.

Oh Lordy Lordy Lordy

My hands are red raw, my eyes sting, my back aches, but finally, finally our house is ready to sell.

We have painfully considered auctioneers' pitches and dealings, and made a choice based on random things at the end of the day, those poor folks fighting over our house like that, I almost feel sorry for them.

So now it's really happening. Viewings will be taking place, strangers will be invading our little haven, with beady eyes and greasy fingers.

It's time to sit back with digits crossed and hope that the market is as greedy for a pretty house as we've been told it is!