life is precious, life can be short, yet we seem to have lost the ability to live life.
We hurry to work, we work in such stress to achieve all that we expect from ourselves, to achieve all that our boss expects from us, to attain the amazing life style that often we can not afford and regularly we dont need.
WE NEED, hugs, happiness, health, honour, hope, and humility.
Stop and hug and love and slow down running past life.
xxx
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Monday, June 4, 2007
Hill of Tara
The trucks of the NRA (national road development) apparently do not have to inform the minister that they are moving more and more equipment into the Skryne valley on an hourly basis, because, and I am guessing here, the minister no longer knows if he will hold the same department come two weeks time.
The tools move in and who is to say what goes on there under the cover of darkness?
Yes the Tarawatch watches, but in reality what can they do?
Our ancestors must be turning in their graves, not least in the worry that soon their graves will be robbed of bone and soul.!!
All the hope in the world, all the placarding is not going to change a single thing, the fact of the matter is, this government is dedicated to the single handed obliteration of our heritage.
This government have brought us farther than any government before them, we are an envied economical magic tale.
However in getting us here, they have spent more money on tribunals which are a needless waste of money when every Joe in the street knows the outcome, computer systems which do not work and a voting system that gets no votes. Any government could have made those errors, but in a time when our health service is on its knees, the money could have well been spent elsewhere.
We have, we still have, the potential to turn the proposed route of the new M3 around, to move it, to end the heartache of our heritage, but will it happen.
Probably not, and why?
Simple, a politician took a spade and turned a sod of earth and that, dear readers, sealed the fate of our ancestry.
Engineers from three other countries have categorically stated that an upgrade of the existing rail line would in fact benefit the people of Meath far more than another motorway, which will in all probability be built with faults and will for a fact add to the already congested traffic which throngs our capital week in and week out.
All of this and a higher level of carbon emissions which will no doubt be incurred due to people now having the route to the city and therefore buying cars which they may not have done before.
People now owe out more money, traffic is more congested, carbon emissions increase by who in gods name knows how much, stress levels increase, more cars on the road means in all likelihood more road carnage.
Every other European city has a working and more than adequate public transport system.
A rail line already exists, the upgrade works would cost less over the projected period than the motorway will even if it does finish ahead of schedule.
AND ASIDE FROM ANY OF THIS. . . . . .
Over 140 Kings sat at Tara, they gave us the countenance, the history, the heritage and the folklore all which combine to make this the country it is today.
Little by little the Ireland of a hundred thousand welcomes, becomes the Ireland of greed, high rise apartment blocks, and motorways. A lot like any other country in the world, except more expensive, less historic, and far more bitter.
I am all for progress, but surely our heritage should be just that, our heritage, a tangible option for our children, our children's children, and all the thousands of people who come to this country and gladly give to our burgeoning coffers, so that a tangible history of Ireland is what they can experience?
How would the ancient Egyptians feel if the sphinx were to have a motorway over it, or the pyramids were to be turned into shopping malls?
Give Ireland a chance, give history a voice, do not take away our heritage, once it is gone it can never be replaced.
The tools move in and who is to say what goes on there under the cover of darkness?
Yes the Tarawatch watches, but in reality what can they do?
Our ancestors must be turning in their graves, not least in the worry that soon their graves will be robbed of bone and soul.!!
All the hope in the world, all the placarding is not going to change a single thing, the fact of the matter is, this government is dedicated to the single handed obliteration of our heritage.
This government have brought us farther than any government before them, we are an envied economical magic tale.
However in getting us here, they have spent more money on tribunals which are a needless waste of money when every Joe in the street knows the outcome, computer systems which do not work and a voting system that gets no votes. Any government could have made those errors, but in a time when our health service is on its knees, the money could have well been spent elsewhere.
We have, we still have, the potential to turn the proposed route of the new M3 around, to move it, to end the heartache of our heritage, but will it happen.
Probably not, and why?
Simple, a politician took a spade and turned a sod of earth and that, dear readers, sealed the fate of our ancestry.
Engineers from three other countries have categorically stated that an upgrade of the existing rail line would in fact benefit the people of Meath far more than another motorway, which will in all probability be built with faults and will for a fact add to the already congested traffic which throngs our capital week in and week out.
All of this and a higher level of carbon emissions which will no doubt be incurred due to people now having the route to the city and therefore buying cars which they may not have done before.
People now owe out more money, traffic is more congested, carbon emissions increase by who in gods name knows how much, stress levels increase, more cars on the road means in all likelihood more road carnage.
Every other European city has a working and more than adequate public transport system.
A rail line already exists, the upgrade works would cost less over the projected period than the motorway will even if it does finish ahead of schedule.
AND ASIDE FROM ANY OF THIS. . . . . .
Over 140 Kings sat at Tara, they gave us the countenance, the history, the heritage and the folklore all which combine to make this the country it is today.
Little by little the Ireland of a hundred thousand welcomes, becomes the Ireland of greed, high rise apartment blocks, and motorways. A lot like any other country in the world, except more expensive, less historic, and far more bitter.
I am all for progress, but surely our heritage should be just that, our heritage, a tangible option for our children, our children's children, and all the thousands of people who come to this country and gladly give to our burgeoning coffers, so that a tangible history of Ireland is what they can experience?
How would the ancient Egyptians feel if the sphinx were to have a motorway over it, or the pyramids were to be turned into shopping malls?
Give Ireland a chance, give history a voice, do not take away our heritage, once it is gone it can never be replaced.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Give me a break
In this time of increased security risks we all have a responsibility to monitor our own doings and be more of a solution than a problem, and yes there is a threat as people enter air o planes with god only knows what packed in their bags, but holy lamb of lantern Jaysus,. give us a teeny tiny break here will ye?
I have just flown back from 4 days of super mommy bonding with the kids, upside down roller coasters, water on your head daredevil rides, swing back and forth gentle rides, walked on, stood on, rained on, and shopped out in the super Disney resort Paris, and the only part that caused me untold stress was the experience in Charles De Gaulle airport, terminal 2, or as they say in France, Satellite 2, the bloody rat maze.
Yes, yes, yes, I should have remembered that you are supposed to put the lotions and potions in a clear see through jiffy bag, I should have known, yes I am putting my hands up, I am a fool for not paying more attention to how the bags were packed.
When we got to Dublin airport on the outward bound journey, there was a lovely lad in a bright pink t-shirt, handing out these things for free. In it I put my moisturizer which always stays in my bag for liberal application during the flight.
There were no questions asked at the security check in at Dublin airport, they looked at my pot of cream in my little Dublin airport supplied jiffy bag and on I went for my journey.
Charles De Gaulle airport.
We are chucked off the red courtesy bus by a man who looks like Leo Sawyer but smells vaguely like cabbage and dog shampoo.
Once off the bus, we find that you must go up in the lift and go left to find the check in desk, simple.
So simple that of the seventy five or so people I asked, only two of them figured the journey through the airport maze, by themselves.
So up in the lift, down in the lift, left and right, or something like that. Then through a warren of concrete tunnels that have conveyors for the fairly flat going down section, but nothing but mass concrete steps for the steep ascent, think the Phoenix park monument to an ant!!
Those traveling with respiratory problems hook up to the inhaler now, those with heart conditions, hit the deck and hope that someone will carry you up before your flight takes off.
Once at the departure gate, the sense of relief is always quite good, yes we are here, no the plane has not left with out us, the kids have not murdered each other, and Yes, I have passed three duty free shops and not bought a single extortionately priced thing.
Other passengers coming out of the security check point are looking very harassed and harried and seem mostly to be connected by hand to wrist of a small child.
that riotous sense of comradeship seems to spew from their mouth as you gaze curiously at them.
"Will you need to pee" One very angry looking man asked me, I looked at them with horrified expressions, I had never met him, why would I discuss my bathroom habits.
"Well if you do need to go, you will have to come in and out through security to do it, there is no loo in this area, this is my fourth time because we are toilet training Sean, its a fecking nightmare."
You have the gall to think this will not bother you in the least, your kids can hold it, there is bribery! !
Sadly there is no bribery known to this mother, to stop small kids needing to go to the toilet.
Then you reach the security scan area, the machine has backed up, and no one speaks English, well no one with the exception of the Neo Nazi gay man who insists on screaming at everyone that he is stressed out and his lip balm has gone missing!!!!!!
Then the unthinkable happens, the toiletry bag that you thought had gone in with the main luggage has somehow ended up in hand luggage.
You want to blame the kids, but they never packed a thing, so you glare at each other, in the hope that one of you will admit the deed.
NO.
Then they open the offending article.
All the creams and lotions and potions that you saved up for, that you coveted from afar because they would make you taller and younger and slimmer and more of all the things you dreamed of, are now being plucked from your bags and tutted at.
Tut Tut Tut its like saying, Oh my God, you are a complete and utter gobshite.
So you enter into the salvation stage. OK, I'm thick, I should never have gotten any of this stuff to this point, yes I am an idiot. so kill me, but before you do, is there ANYTHING I could do to save my potions.?
Well of course there is, you can go to the shop and buy a zip lock bag, it must be 20 x 20 and see through.
So how hard can that be.
I mean surely all the airports have them in huge and vast quantities, it is a money making opportunity, it screams sell me for €5 each, everyone will buy me,.
BUT NO, not Charles De Gaulle.
Off you go, running I might add, because you have been informed that the shift will change in 33 minutes and only one person on this shift is on your side and he is also the only one with more than four words of English, so bloody hell you run like Sebastian Coe.
You run from satellite 2 to satellite 1, its miles and miles away,.
You get there the shop says no, we don't have these, go to satellite 4, this is miles away, so far away you will need your passport four times, twice out, twice in.
The staff are laughing at you now, 'plastic bags', they ask in their lilting Gallic with shoulder shrugs and eyebrows that vanish in hairlines,.
'Yes' you gasp because you have left your last breath somewhere on a corridor.
'No sorry no bags.'
So you know that your flight must be almost calling for boarding, and you think, I will never be this stupid again, and you head back the way you came, only its Charles De Gaulle, and you can not get back the way you came you must go to all the opposite satellites and you must run, run run, and you must get lost and ask every member of staff who do not speak English, if they can help you find satellite 2, and watch as they do that french shrug.
And finally with very little time to spare, and at least 2lb lighter from running and sweating up and down every concourse in the airport, you arrive back at your security desk.
You tell them of your plight, the previous staff have gone, this new lot could care less.
You tell them you have been security checked, but they make you take off your belt, your earrings, your boots.
You go through, and joy of joys, someone on the other side about to board their flight gives you a bag, 20 x 20, they have used it to come through.
Its fine, you run to the security point holding this piece of plastic high above your shiny red face.
'Yes I got a bag' you tell them, 'can I take my stuff and put it in here now?'
'NO'
'Why?'
'Because it has no zip lock on it.'
'But, someone else used one the exact same type of bag, in fact 6 people did.'
'I don't care,'
'But I want to get my stuff back'
'No'
'But why' (know you sound like your 3 year old niece)
'Because I am too busy, now please go away.'
'But I have the bag, I don't care if you keep everything else, but that cream is very hard to get blah blah.'
'NO'
'but I have the bag.'
'Go away now, or I will have you removed from this area.'
Two questions,.? ? ?
What happens to the €80 or €90 worth of stuff they took from me?
AND WHY were others allowed to use certain bags, and some people not allowed to use them and yet not one check is made on the products that are placed inside the cellophane bag either before it goes onto the plane once inside the boarding gate area, or once it has gone inside the aircraft.
It was an expensive lesson, I don't feel I would have suffered the same fate in Dublin, there would have been somewhere to purchase the bags, and though I will again say, it was my own fault, there was nothing to do once inside this hideous airport to salvage the situation.
To top it all off, my flight was delayed by 1.5 hours. The captain said he was not sure what we had been told while we sat in the moisture-less and toilet less glassed in area.
We told him the truth, we were told nothing, flight EI 520 was delayed, we didn't know when it would arrive or what was wrong.
I flew Aer Lingus by choice, they are the carrier I would always choose to fly with, but I do not expect to spend my time in a service-less airport, having to unbuckle belts, and remove same, multiplied by three, remove boots and runners, three sets, and try to remain calm and polite, when either of my kids aged nine and six needed to go to the loo!! (Three times each!!)
They both enjoyed their holiday immensely it being their first to Disney land Paris, but my six year old wanted to know, if they would have to keep getting undressed every time they come to this airport?
O.
I have just flown back from 4 days of super mommy bonding with the kids, upside down roller coasters, water on your head daredevil rides, swing back and forth gentle rides, walked on, stood on, rained on, and shopped out in the super Disney resort Paris, and the only part that caused me untold stress was the experience in Charles De Gaulle airport, terminal 2, or as they say in France, Satellite 2, the bloody rat maze.
Yes, yes, yes, I should have remembered that you are supposed to put the lotions and potions in a clear see through jiffy bag, I should have known, yes I am putting my hands up, I am a fool for not paying more attention to how the bags were packed.
When we got to Dublin airport on the outward bound journey, there was a lovely lad in a bright pink t-shirt, handing out these things for free. In it I put my moisturizer which always stays in my bag for liberal application during the flight.
There were no questions asked at the security check in at Dublin airport, they looked at my pot of cream in my little Dublin airport supplied jiffy bag and on I went for my journey.
Charles De Gaulle airport.
We are chucked off the red courtesy bus by a man who looks like Leo Sawyer but smells vaguely like cabbage and dog shampoo.
Once off the bus, we find that you must go up in the lift and go left to find the check in desk, simple.
So simple that of the seventy five or so people I asked, only two of them figured the journey through the airport maze, by themselves.
So up in the lift, down in the lift, left and right, or something like that. Then through a warren of concrete tunnels that have conveyors for the fairly flat going down section, but nothing but mass concrete steps for the steep ascent, think the Phoenix park monument to an ant!!
Those traveling with respiratory problems hook up to the inhaler now, those with heart conditions, hit the deck and hope that someone will carry you up before your flight takes off.
Once at the departure gate, the sense of relief is always quite good, yes we are here, no the plane has not left with out us, the kids have not murdered each other, and Yes, I have passed three duty free shops and not bought a single extortionately priced thing.
Other passengers coming out of the security check point are looking very harassed and harried and seem mostly to be connected by hand to wrist of a small child.
that riotous sense of comradeship seems to spew from their mouth as you gaze curiously at them.
"Will you need to pee" One very angry looking man asked me, I looked at them with horrified expressions, I had never met him, why would I discuss my bathroom habits.
"Well if you do need to go, you will have to come in and out through security to do it, there is no loo in this area, this is my fourth time because we are toilet training Sean, its a fecking nightmare."
You have the gall to think this will not bother you in the least, your kids can hold it, there is bribery! !
Sadly there is no bribery known to this mother, to stop small kids needing to go to the toilet.
Then you reach the security scan area, the machine has backed up, and no one speaks English, well no one with the exception of the Neo Nazi gay man who insists on screaming at everyone that he is stressed out and his lip balm has gone missing!!!!!!
Then the unthinkable happens, the toiletry bag that you thought had gone in with the main luggage has somehow ended up in hand luggage.
You want to blame the kids, but they never packed a thing, so you glare at each other, in the hope that one of you will admit the deed.
NO.
Then they open the offending article.
All the creams and lotions and potions that you saved up for, that you coveted from afar because they would make you taller and younger and slimmer and more of all the things you dreamed of, are now being plucked from your bags and tutted at.
Tut Tut Tut its like saying, Oh my God, you are a complete and utter gobshite.
So you enter into the salvation stage. OK, I'm thick, I should never have gotten any of this stuff to this point, yes I am an idiot. so kill me, but before you do, is there ANYTHING I could do to save my potions.?
Well of course there is, you can go to the shop and buy a zip lock bag, it must be 20 x 20 and see through.
So how hard can that be.
I mean surely all the airports have them in huge and vast quantities, it is a money making opportunity, it screams sell me for €5 each, everyone will buy me,.
BUT NO, not Charles De Gaulle.
Off you go, running I might add, because you have been informed that the shift will change in 33 minutes and only one person on this shift is on your side and he is also the only one with more than four words of English, so bloody hell you run like Sebastian Coe.
You run from satellite 2 to satellite 1, its miles and miles away,.
You get there the shop says no, we don't have these, go to satellite 4, this is miles away, so far away you will need your passport four times, twice out, twice in.
The staff are laughing at you now, 'plastic bags', they ask in their lilting Gallic with shoulder shrugs and eyebrows that vanish in hairlines,.
'Yes' you gasp because you have left your last breath somewhere on a corridor.
'No sorry no bags.'
So you know that your flight must be almost calling for boarding, and you think, I will never be this stupid again, and you head back the way you came, only its Charles De Gaulle, and you can not get back the way you came you must go to all the opposite satellites and you must run, run run, and you must get lost and ask every member of staff who do not speak English, if they can help you find satellite 2, and watch as they do that french shrug.
And finally with very little time to spare, and at least 2lb lighter from running and sweating up and down every concourse in the airport, you arrive back at your security desk.
You tell them of your plight, the previous staff have gone, this new lot could care less.
You tell them you have been security checked, but they make you take off your belt, your earrings, your boots.
You go through, and joy of joys, someone on the other side about to board their flight gives you a bag, 20 x 20, they have used it to come through.
Its fine, you run to the security point holding this piece of plastic high above your shiny red face.
'Yes I got a bag' you tell them, 'can I take my stuff and put it in here now?'
'NO'
'Why?'
'Because it has no zip lock on it.'
'But, someone else used one the exact same type of bag, in fact 6 people did.'
'I don't care,'
'But I want to get my stuff back'
'No'
'But why' (know you sound like your 3 year old niece)
'Because I am too busy, now please go away.'
'But I have the bag, I don't care if you keep everything else, but that cream is very hard to get blah blah.'
'NO'
'but I have the bag.'
'Go away now, or I will have you removed from this area.'
Two questions,.? ? ?
What happens to the €80 or €90 worth of stuff they took from me?
AND WHY were others allowed to use certain bags, and some people not allowed to use them and yet not one check is made on the products that are placed inside the cellophane bag either before it goes onto the plane once inside the boarding gate area, or once it has gone inside the aircraft.
It was an expensive lesson, I don't feel I would have suffered the same fate in Dublin, there would have been somewhere to purchase the bags, and though I will again say, it was my own fault, there was nothing to do once inside this hideous airport to salvage the situation.
To top it all off, my flight was delayed by 1.5 hours. The captain said he was not sure what we had been told while we sat in the moisture-less and toilet less glassed in area.
We told him the truth, we were told nothing, flight EI 520 was delayed, we didn't know when it would arrive or what was wrong.
I flew Aer Lingus by choice, they are the carrier I would always choose to fly with, but I do not expect to spend my time in a service-less airport, having to unbuckle belts, and remove same, multiplied by three, remove boots and runners, three sets, and try to remain calm and polite, when either of my kids aged nine and six needed to go to the loo!! (Three times each!!)
They both enjoyed their holiday immensely it being their first to Disney land Paris, but my six year old wanted to know, if they would have to keep getting undressed every time they come to this airport?
O.
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