Duke attempts the Impossible

[duke3016]

If you ever get a chance to visit the wonderful County of Clare please do so. There are a number of beautiful places to visit and one of them is Bunratty folk park.

The folk park began in the early "60s when a farmhouse had to be demolished to make way for a new runway at Shannon International Airport. The house was taken to Bunratty and reconstructed brick by brick. Over time more and more structures were added illustrating the dwelling places of poor labourers, wealthier farmers, trades people and lords and ladies. A schoolhouse (this was Belvoir School which was my mother"s first teaching post), a church, a post office, shops and a pub were added to complete the village.


At Bunratty you hear more American accents than Irish because the folk park is primarily designed for visitors. The preservationists who have created Bunratty Folk Park and other interpretive centers in Ireland are passionate about the story they have to tell, and recreations and reenactments bring history to life and stimulate the imagination in a way that books and pictures cannot.

The same goes for the castle banquet at Bunratty. It"s primarily a show for visitors, but what a show! Who could pass up a chance to dine in a beautifully furnished banquet hall, mellowed by mead and serenaded by exquisitely costumed harpists, fiddlers and singers? The food is excellent and the music is superb.

Also, sample the banquets at Knappogue Castle and Dunguaire Castle and the music night at the Bunratty Corn Barn. A visit to the Lough Gur Stone Age Centre, the Craggaunowen Bronze Age Project, and the Brian Boru Heritage Centre in Killaloe is a must.

A trip along the Atlantic coast through the area known as the Burren is also a must. It is a carboniferous limestone landscape with thousands of varieties of rare flowers, including acres and acres of wild orchids. Botanists come here from all over the world to study the unique combination of Arctic, Alpine and Mediterranean plants.

Back in 17th Century, General Edmund Ludlow wrote to his boss, English dictator Oliver Cromwell, that the geography of the Burren was interfering with his favourite pastimes: He said

"It is a country where there is not enough water to drown a man, wood enough to hang one, nor earth enough to bury him,"

And no I am not sponsored by the Irish Tourist Board I just miss it sometimes more than others and today is one of them.

[duke3016]

[duke3016]

In my life I have travelled to a fair few places around the world and survived. However airports were never my finest hour. But in reality the airport experience is leaving me increasingly stressed and frustrated with airline collapses, delays, lost luggage, confusion, cancellations, lengthy queues and strict security procedures seriously fecking with my patience. Confusing signage and boards and airport parking also get right up my nose.

But it"s not just the airport experience that causes me problems at a time when I am meant to be heading away from the stresses of everyday life. I fret about getting all documentation together, I worry about arriving where I need to be on time and getting anyone else organised messes with my head.

What is so hard about shortening queues, reducing delays, speeding up the time it takes to go through security, better airline organisation and more seating areas at the airport.

I know that airport frustrations can"t always be avoided, and I should get everything together a few days in advance to ensure that I leave ample time to get where I need to be. However the people that run the airports could meet me halfway with courtesy and politeness and not talk to me as if they are chewing a wasp.

In this day and age of cost cutting and cut throat competition good customer facing manners cost feck all and go a long way.

Rant over..

[duke3016]

I was flying from Liverpool to Cork to take part in the Poker game in Killarney and I boarded the plane and as usual make my way straight for the emergency exit seats for the extra legroom. I get comfortable and await the take off. Across the aisle from me was a couple in their twilight years and they looked a little nervous.

The plane taxied onto the runway and powered up and shot up the runway. Approximately halfway up the runway the pilot slams on the anchors and the plane shudders to a halt.

“Sorry Ladies & Gentlemen a warning light has appeared on the console and we will have to taxi back to the terminal to get it checked out”

Fair enough, better safe than sorry.

We pulled up and were told to stay in our seats. After a while a young lad in a Hi-Viz appeared and walked down  the aisle and stood in front of the elderly couple.

“Excuse me please would you mind stepping into the aisle” says he

Well the couple did a comical double take to each other and meekly got up and stood in the aisle.

The lad rapped the door a few times and grunted “Looks fine to me” and walked away. Well,  the couple sat back down as the doors were closed again and the plane taxied off again.

Well their faces were a picture and the Lady said something to her husband that I could not hear, but half the plane heard his reply.

“Never mind dear at least we will be first out”

Priceless

Note; The pilot aborted the second take off as well and we had to go back disembark and wait 4 hours for a replacement plane.

[duke3016]

I never stopped to consider what would happen if I'd chosen a different path. I enjoy my work and a lage part of it is Warehouse Management Systems Support.

There's an uneasy friendship between being a single point of contact fame and anonymity; living on the verge of corporate recognition and total isolation. Do we all think of what we do as such a noble pursuit? Do we go to work thinking that we will save the world?

As I sat at my desk mindlessly plucking at my keyboard when the phone rings.  I pick it up and it is the Service Desk.

“There is a call in your queue and the user is chasing” The anonymous female voice was the sort of off-key, grating sound that you could only tolerate in small doses. I wondered what it must be like to be married to that voice. Knowing that every conversation is a form of Chinese water torture. Could there be someone out there who finds that sound bearable? Melodious even?

I fired up the Service application, the text in the call was as usual Jibberish so I called the person who raised the call

“This is Ger Smyth how can I help you?” says I

“Hi, I can't see the box on the screen I usually see, can you tell me what I'm doing wrong?

What you're doing wrong is calling me as if I live to figure out what kind of crap you have done to get to this point. As if without any detailed information, I will be able to diagnose your problem and present a one-button solution that will make everyone happy.

“What application transaction are you in?” says I

As they prattle on I realise that this person could just possibly be the biggest idiot I have ever come across. Instead of answering my question, they go on and on about what they want to do, as if they expect me to have super powers and I can see their screen. They keep talking as if to provide enough information to allow me to do their work for them.

“I just realized what your problem is” says I,

“Page down” says I
“Oh there it is”

Priceless.

[duke3016]

Just back from a week working in Sunny/Windy/Rainy/Foggy Scotland and it was a buy week.

I arrived in the depot last Friday at 12:00 and had a few things to do prior to the “Go Live” on the Saturday. These done I went to check into my Hotel. Check in was non eventful but I did notice there was a wedding in full swing.

You know the way you can tangibly feel an atmosphere brewing. Well this one was like that, with all the kilted men wondering round looking for an English man to slaughter. I was due to go out and meet a few friends and duly got a taxi to another hotel for a few drinks.

I returned to the hotel at around 11:30pm and the wedding had got more lively. I ordered a drink at the bar and as I turned to survey the surroundings I espied the bride and the groom having a heated discussion in fluent vernacular Scottish so I didn't understand a word but I got the gist.

The bride of barely 10 hours then decided that words were not getting through to her beloved husband, so she gave him the sweetest short arm jab I have seen in a long time. He went down on the floor like a deflated lilo kilt akimbo. A woman, who I can only suspect was the grooms mother then barreled in and landed a beauty flush on the jaw of the bride.

Cue blood curdling cries of war as the kilted brigade then squared up and proceeded to knock several bales of Shiite out of each other. The Keystone cops then arrived and unsuccessfully attempted to part the warring factions and much tooing and froing occurred.

At one point the main tangle was herded out into the car park to continue their discussions and as I was in need of a cigarette I went to go out the front door. I was stopped by the duty manager (a lovely wee girl from Falkirk as I recall) and was steered in a different direction and shown the employee's secret smoking area. As we were walking arm in arm to this area she looked at me and said “Welcome to Livingston”

Cigarette duly smoked I wandered back in and was promptly stopped by a couple of boys in blue who wanted to interview me about my part in the proceedings. After numerous explainings and exasperated sighs they eventually believed that I was a resident and had no part in the scuffle, which had at this stage run its course and they were all buddies again.

Can't have a good wedding without a fight


Priceless   

[duke3016]

The was a man in our village, Michael McNamara (Shortened of course to Mick Mac) who was a plasterer by trade and a hard and outspoken gentleman who was not afraid to speak his mind or back up his opinions with explosive and deadly action.

He was on a job in Limerick and was driving home across Arnacrusha bridge when he was pulled up at a Garda checkpoint. The were checking for tax and insurance, which he had, but he of course berated them as only he knows how and of course the young Guard took the hump and proceeded to look over his old banger with a fine tooth comb.

He was writing down all the things that were wrong with the car when Mick jumped out and demanded to know what was wrong with his beloved car.

“For a start you have 4 bald tyres” said the Guard

Mick looked at the tyres and back at the Guard

“FFS you wouldn't know a bald tyre if it jumped up and slapped you in the face” spluttered Mick

He then proceeded to the back of the car and began tossing his tools of the trade onto the road, trowels, mortar boards and assorted implements clattered onto the road. At last he came to what he was looking for.

“That's a fecking bald tyre” screamed Mick, pointing at the offending item, which was so bad you could see the wire poking through the rubber.

The Guard looked at the tyre and back to Mick.

“You are right sir, 5 bald tyres” he smiled as he continued his list of faults.

Priceless. When you are in the Shiite keep your mouth shut.

[duke3016]

[duke3016]

[duke3016]

Well, I worked from dawn to dusk for the next week with no sign of the ould lad. Although I suspect he was sneaking up when I was not around to cast his beady eye over the whole proceedings.

I laid out a line where the fence was to be installed. The ould lad had determined the height of the fence should be four feet high, So I set about digging the holes for my end posts. Feck me but it was hard going and I managed a depth of about 30 inches. After liberally painting the ends with linseed oil I positioned the end posts.

I ran a builder"s line from one end post to the other. All was going to plan, I marked out where the other posts were to go and dug the rest of my holes, which took me the rest of the day.

The next day I set the remaining posts, taking extreme care they were plumb. I was now beginning to get blisters and my temper was not the best, which any passer by who dared to offer encouragement could attest to.

The following day I nailed the stringers from post to post in threes (top middle bottom) and that took me all day with a feck load of frigging mistakes, as it turned out that my pole to pole measurements weren't quite accurate FML.

The next day I painted the finished fence with a waterproofing sealer, and set about making the gate, This was not the masterpiece that was intended by the ould lad, but it looked fine to me.

I attached the gates to the fence posts and they nearly met in the middle, a long chain FTW I thought, because at this stage I was beyond caring.

I stepped back and surveyed the finished article.

To be honest each post would have challenged the Pisa Tower for degree of lean, The stringers, which looked fine close up, resembled a sine wave on speed. The gate looked like an episode of Little and Large and in summary it looked like it had been put together by Stevie Wonder whilst wearing boxing gloves.

I was dead.

Nothing for it but to march down, tell the ould lad I had completed the job and take my medicine. We walked up together and he surveyed the disaster of a fence. Minutes seemed to pass, although in reality it was probably seconds. He turned to look at me, I braced myself for the inevitable tirade that was to follow and he said.

“Good job son, as fine a fence as I have ever seen” My jaw dropped and I looked at the fence and back to him and wondered was his eyesight gone. “Cmon I'll but you a pint to celebrate its completion” says he.

Sometimes he would surprise me, but one thing was certain he was a damn fine man and I loved him to bits

Priceless

[duke3016]

A goodly few years ago I was at a works do in Ennis, I was working for De Beers at the time and the night was very lively and the drink was flowing. I had consumed a fine few scoops and I went out into the grounds of the hotel to get a bit of fresh air and try to sober up a wee bit.

I walked around the grounds and they were pretty extensive. Well, lost in my own intoxicated thoughts I looked up and could see no hotel whatever direction I looked in. I seemed to be in some sort of wood and could get no bearings at all.

FFS I am on the edge of a major town it can"t be that far in any direction to find civilisation. I started walking and in the pitch black I fell a couple of times and my nice white shirt was torn and no longer a nice white shirt.

I came to the edge of the wood and saw a large stately home sort of building with numerous lights on. At this stage I was knackered and I stumbled towards the main door. All I needed was a phone. I knocked on the door and it was opened by two men in suits.

I thought I said “Can I use your phone please” but by the way the two suits looked at me, in my exhaustion I must have sounded unintelligible. The next thing I know they gently grabbed an arm each while making “there there” noises. I was placed in a nice little room with no furniture other than one bare chair.

It could have been a four poster bed as I flopped into it and the two suits stood staring at me.

“Doesn"t look familiar” said suit #1

“No, but he must be one of ours, just look at him” said suit #2

“What"s your name” said suit #1

“Smyth” says I stupidly

“He"s one of ours, Call Mr. O"Brien” said suit #2

Mr. O"Brien arrives and by this stage I had recovered some composure and managed to explain what happened.

“Where am I anyway” says I

“St Joseph"s Psychiatric Unit” says Mr. O"Brien

FML


Priceless. It"s a wonder they let me out.

[duke3016]

[Des]

It"s golden reading these stories Ger.  You really should put them into a book and kindle them out to the world.

[duke3016]

Most people of my parents' generation had never been out of Ireland and the ones that did usually only went to England to find work. My parents didn't even have a passport FFS. As you may have guessed the best years of my life were the 10 years between my 16th and 25th Birthdays. I travelled a lot I played hard and worked hard. In 1978 I went to South Africa for a year and apart from the obvious undertones of apartheid it was a fabulous time.

Where is this going, says you, well, I tell you this is a tale of when my Father decided that just before the grand opening of the shop in 1972 we would take a family holiday as he couldn't see himself having anymore after the shop was opened.

“Great” says my mother “Where shall we go, Spain”
“Too hot” says the ould lad
“America” says my mother
“Too far” says the ould lad
“Then where?” says my Mother
“Let me think” says the ould lad

He chewed on the stem of his pipe as silence descended on the kitchen.

“This year Da” says I
“Feck off” he replied

He paused to speak and we waited expectantly, then he shook his head. FFS he repeated this performance for around 30 minutes when we both knew what his answer would be. He was a predictable as he was stubborn. He always went to this place in his childhood and teens and he thought in his own mind that it was the same as it was 30 years previous.

“I know” he says

My mother sighed and I was resigned to the outcome as well. We really pissed him off when we both said the destination at the same time as himself.

“Kilkee”

FFS Kilkee was on the coast of Clare around 40 miles away and while it was a nice enough place it was overrun in the summer by the residents of Limerick for their annual pilgrimage.

“I'll book it today” says he, smug in his decision

You'd think that we were planning a trip to Outer Mongolia they way the next few days went.

The ould lad had secured a wee house near the promenade in Kilkee and it was self catering, so no holiday for my Ma then. You'd have thought that he was the Quartermaster General for Marco Polo the way he was stocking up. He had painstakingly prepared a list and was loading boxes with non perishable foods and stuff. His brow was puckered as he racked his head for anything he may have missed.

“FFS Da, there will be shops, it's not the fecking North Pole” says I
“Feck off, I'm not paying holiday resort prices for anything” says he

My mother was patiently sitting this one out with a tolerant look on her face, like the way she would look at me when I was five. The ould lad had moved on from the non perishables and was now onto the clothing section. FFS the expedition has been upgraded to the level of Shackleton's trip to the South Pole.

“FFS Da, if we forget anything essential we are only an hour from home” says I
“Feck off you don't understand planning is everything” says he
“So's relaxing” says I

Well he just grunted and continued to plan the trek across the fecking Alps. We eventually loaded the car (good job it was an estate) and set off. The ould lad was driving and my mother and I drew lots to see who would get the front seat. I lost and had to sit in the front alongside a man who considered himself on a par with Juan Fangio. However, he was quite possible the worst driver ever. He had a healthy disrespect for any other road users and would be holding a one way torrent of abuse for the 40 miles we had to travel.

Closing your eyes was no good because he would dig you in the ribs.

“See that, did you see that FFS” says he
“Yes Da” says I
“Got his fecking licence in Woolworth's” says he
“Yes Da” says I

We passed Ennis and headed out towards the coast. But not before we had nearly creamed an old lady, frightened a couple of children and did his best to keep the car body workers in business.

“We will have a wee break in Inagh” says he
“If we get there in one piece” says me Ma from the back
“What?” says he
“Nothing” sighed she.

FFS we had been driving for 35 minutes and he was taking a break. We had the one drink which he demolished in two seconds flat.

“Come on we haven't got all day” says he as we tried to choke our drinks down.

“I will kill him” says me Ma as he walked out the door
“Join the queue” says I

We hit Kilkee just after 3pm and got the keys to the house. It was a nice wee house in a good spot near the sea and a couple of pubs.

“OK unload” orders he as he strolled towards the promenade. Shackleton had reached his destination and was revelling in his victory.

“I need a drink, we can unload later” says me Ma with a hint of childish rebellion
“Lead on McDuff, I'll get the first one” says I
“That you will” says she as we linked arms and headed for the nearest public house.

Contd

[duke3016]