Patrick Bodger and The Money Pit

I have been in tears laughing at Patrick's Blog about the Money Pit. I feel guilty too. It is so wrong to squeal at someone's misfortune and it hurts so perhaps that's nature's way of paying us back.

You should write a book Patrick. It would be a best seller.

Tell the long suffering Marianna I said move  to Ireland.

Mad Mandy

Bushmills Inn Review & Response

Good Evening Mandy,

Again thank you for your reservation last Saturday and for your lovely comments. I hope you do not mind me taking the liberty to ask if all you guests enjoyed their lunch. As you suggested, I kept an eye out for a review. Earlier today I noticed a review from your guests on Trip Advisor which is quite opposite to your comments.

The Hotel has always prided itself on service and our staff are empowered to make an immediate decision to replace, change or refund a meal even if a dish is perfect but not to a guests liking, without fuss or embarrassment. If, on the day we had been made aware of any issues we would have rectified immediately. I am sure you can appreciate that it is frustrating for any business not to have constructive criticism at the time, affording us the opportunity to rectify.

With regards to cocktails, we do not profess to be expert in this area. As we are in Bushmills most visitors want to try the local ‘nectar’ We have limited cocktails available on our drinks menu as we do not have a large demand for popular cocktails let alone ones which are rare and have never been ordered in our short 25 year history.

The comment “outrageously expensive and poor value” is, we feel strong and misplaced,. I do hope they would take into consideration the total experience - not just the dish on the plate, but all the other factors which have to be paid for: e.g. the public sitting rooms, five real fires, car parks, gardens, menu and wine list covers even the cost of our staff who are paid intentionally attractive rates. Also our prices have to reflect what you are not getting - weddings, coach parties, functions, an overcrowded bar - we permanently close the street entrance to the bar so that it can remain more exclusive to residents and diners. Though tempting sources of revenue particularly in the quiet winter months, opening the bar to the street and taking functions would compromise our core business which is looking after individual guests and small parties but such exclusivity does have to be paid for. As a hotel, as opposed to a restaurant, we have to keep our Restaurant open for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day and as a seasonal resort property we run at a loss over the winter months. For all these reasons we have to charge realistic year round prices to achieve profits over a full year - but ultimately it is the customer, no matter what I say, who makes the final decision.

I hope you do not mind me writing to you, it is that your comments and your guests are vastly different. As mentioned in my email on Sunday night we would be delighted to welcome you all back again.

Kind Regards,

Kelly Neill

Bushmills Inn Hotel

THE RUBGY BALL and MORE

OMGoodness! When I wrote our names and telephone number on the prize draw for THE RUGBY BALL signed by Willie John McBride et al I told Tiger that I wanted it more than anything. How wonderful to have a piece of history touched by sporting hero's?

I cannot tell you how gob-smacked we were when Pauline rang to tell Tiger he had won it.

Believe me. It will be treasured.

Treasured beside the limited addition poster of the late great Joey Dunlop that Tiger's biker babe sister gave him for his birthday and the autographed picture that James "Wee Man" McCann gave us of him airborne.

We are truly blessed to be able to honour brave people who love, or did love, their chosen vocations.

I feel very moved and humbled by the work of the Royal British Legion and by the many groups that campaign and work tirelessly for charity. Joey Dunlop's charity work is a case in point.

Bill Kennedy, the outgoing Mayor of Ballymoney, deserves praise for his efforts to fund raise and support Marie Curie Cancer Care, the Ballymoney Hospice Support Group and The Community Rescue Service.

Bill Kennedy and Liam Beckett were instrumental in the development of first the Joey Dunlop and then the Robert Dunlop Memorial Gardens and the link between them.

They were undeservedly vilified at times, as was I for backing them. That is something that would not have gone down well with the lads. They wouldn't like it at all and would be really saddened by the actions of some family members.

The gardens and the link are a fitting tribute and it was lovely to see so many fans visiting and taking pictures. Paying homage.

No one can take them down or diminish them. So say I and I lot of others.

We extend our best wishes to the outgoing members of council and hope that the incoming elected representatives continue with the traditions developed by the hard working public servants who have retired.

There is much work to be done and we all need to play a part in that. There is no point sitting back and giving off if we haven't taken an active role in the community. The community that is all we have at the end of the day.

We have common goals and wishes. Good health care, including expanding care in the home. Education. Environmental issues. Policing and the protection of the vulnerable. It really is up to us to participate in a positive way ... Or walk away and bury our heads in the sand.

Memories

Tiger and I were watching BBC's Wild Week Live with the delightful Donna Traynor and enthusiastic nature lover Darryl Grimason.

What a joy.

It brought back memories of childhood fishing trips. Our dad had a punt. That is like a floating bath tub. The water lapped over the sides and we had to bale it out. Kids don't know what fear is. That comes with age and wisdom. We loved it.

The first time I saw a Basking Shark was when one got caught up in fishing nets and was dragged onto Portstewart Harbour slipway. Ian Henry told everyone that there was a big fish in the Harbour and he thought it was a shark. It was, and it was awesome and then some. At least it was for us. Basking Sharks are huge.We'd never seen anything like it. The shark was towed out to sea and later washed up on Portstewart golf course. The smell was putrid and permeated the whole town for weeks.

Many years later my brother Dessie and I were out fishing when a Basking Shark came along side. I nearly died of fight. It was two or three times the length of the boat and it's mouth was open wide. It could have swallowed us whole.

Dessie told me to calm my jets! He said it ate plankton and would spit me out if I fell in it's mouth.

I wasn't happy until we hit dry land and I was off that boat like a rocket.

Looking back I remember the wonder of seeing such a spectacular creature. A gentle giant. I would give almost anything to go back in time and put my hand out and touch him ... Or her.

Darryl got to swim with a family of Basking Sharks. How bloody marvellous is that? He was justifiably moved and awed. I was in floods of tears. I knew exactly how he felt.

WeeHee!

Tiger and I had a lovely lunch at the Bushmills Inn today in the company of Lord Belmont of Northern Ireland. The food was very good although the lads could have eaten twice as much ... actually make that three times more. We have agreed to go to Millside next time where we will need doggy bags. 
Another wee disappointment was that they couldn't make Tim and me Brandy Alexanders. We were looking forward to kicking off a late lunch with our favorite cocktail. I will email the recipe to the Inn. And one for Manhattans as they get a lot of American visitors. 
With any luck Tim will forgive me for making a mess. Why is it that when I want to make an impression I spill food on the table cloth and try to stick the fork up my nose instead of in my mouth? How the blazes does one miss a gob this size? Only moi.
He is too much of a gentleman to say, "Don't call me. I'll call you."
We had a great time. Good company is better than a fine wine.
The universe has a way of linking peeps who gel.
It is early days and I don't want to take Tim prisoner the way I do with Andy and David.
In any event I can't do it because the electric gates are fried.
So is my much loved Dell laptop. Never, ever leave a jar of strong pickles next to a Readers Digest Universal Dicionary balanced on your modem and walk away. Story of my life of monumental disasters and trail of destruction.
Tiger has loaned me his Purple Meany. He keeps looking over my shoulder to make sure I don't injure or kill it.
But this is the man who won't relinquish the remote control, even when he is asleep. The bloody dog is every bit as bad. 
Hopefully Tim will accept us for the Numpty's we are and be mates anyway.
I came home on a high.
Tiger still had the hungers, as I said. He and the Rock laid waste to two boxes of quail from Lidl.
As if the day couldn't get any better Pauline rang from the Rugby Club to tell Tiger he won THE BALL ... SIGNED BY NONE OTHER THAN WILLIE JOHN McBRIDE ET AL.
I am going to sleep with it.
HAPPY HAPPY DAY

ODE TO THE DEAD

 

I went to a wake the other night

'Cause a good Ceilidh band were playin'

They had propped the dear departed up

And to the beat I saw him swayin'

 

His fiddle was tucked beneath his arm

And a smile was etched upon his face

As the clock crept round to midnight

The band were pickin' up the pace

 

Mourners were whirling around the room

And still was flowin' like a river

The family catered for the crowd

And no one cared about their liver

 

More came to pay their last respects

When the pubs closed up at three

They brought carry-outs and barflies

Who never miss a gig that's free

 

As the night wore on into the dawn

The Ceilidh band began to flag

Their little lilting tunes slowed down

And the dancers feet began to drag

 

The corpse was stiffer than a board

And his face was paler than the moon

His smile was now a pained expression

The wake would need to end quite soon

 

The night took on a gruesome twist

The corpse had gripped his fiddle tight

And wouldn't fit into the coffin

Feck sake it was an awful fight

 

In the end they prised it off him

And he was laid to rest at last

In a place that brought back memories

Of his long and illustrious past

 

When I die I want to have a wake

With a jazz band and a comic turn

But I want to be cremated first

So I will be safe inside my Urn.

I'm not sure what to call this

It's Thursday, which strictly speaking makes it a week since I was at The Dudes fancy dress disco at the Royal British Legion Club in Ballymoney. It has taken me until now to recover.

I went as a cowgirl with a super soaker instead of a cold 45 strapped to my ample waist. Annie get your gun and all that.

The Dude was dressed as a large yellow feathered thing. I was confused as Katrina is the Chick. I may have been drunk as a skunk. Hang on a MO! I was drunk as a skunk. Thankfully I'm the only one native to Ireland. Skunk that is.

I can't thank Joe enough for mopping me up and delivering me home. If not for him I could still be walking in the direction of the hills.

It's a pity there wasn't a better turn out for such a good cause. Sign of the times I guess.

Apathy is settling in, in all walks of life. Voting, charity, protecting the environment, neighbourhood watch et al.

Mother Nature is trying to tell us something. Not that anyone is listening. It is easier to ignore what is going on than to get off our asses and do something positive.

Mankind is like a runaway train. Picking up speed and about to hit a very hard wall.

We all think we are bulletproof ... Or hope we are. What if we aren't?

Oh well. I guess we will never know. Thwack and we're gone.

What a historic visit the Queen has made to Ireland. It is a good rather than a bad event, even if there are factions that think otherwise.  

 

Irish nationalism should equal  pride in our heritage. Even if it is a mix of cultures. I am a descendant of the French Huguenots who fled catholic persecution to take refuge in Ireland. Go figure!

 

Ireland has a checkered history least of which is the reign of Eamon De Valera. The oracle that is Wikipedia documents a life that few Irish people know.   

De Valera was born in New York City in 1882 to an Irish mother; his parents, Catherine Coll (subsequently Mrs Wheelwright), an immigrant from Bruree, County Limerick, and Juan Vivion de Valera, a Cuban settler and sculptor of Spanish descent, were reportedly married on 18 September 1881 at St. Patrick's Church in Jersey City, New Jersey. However, archivists have not located any such marriage certificate or any birth, baptismal, or death certificate information for anyone called Juan Vivion de Valera or de Valeros, an alternative spelling. On De Valera's original birth certificate, his name is given as George De Valero and his father is listed as Vivion De Valero. The first name was changed in 1910 to Edward and the surname corrected to de Valera.

There were a number of occasions when de Valera seriously contemplated the religious life like his half-brother, Fr. Thomas Wheelwright, but ultimately did not pursue a vocation. De Valera was throughout his life portrayed as a deeply religious man, who in death asked to be buried in a religious habit. While his biographer, Tim Pat Coogan, speculated that questions surrounding de Valera's legitimacy may have been a deciding factor in his not entering religious life, being illegitimate would have been a bar to receiving orders only as a secular or diocesan cleric, not as a member of a religious order.

Juan Vivion died in 1885 leaving Catherine Coll and her child in poor circumstances. Éamon was taken to Ireland by his Uncle Ned at the age of two. Even when his mother married a new husband in the mid-1880s, he was not brought back to live with her but reared instead by his grandmother Elizabeth Coll, her son Patrick and her daughter Hannie, in County Limerick. He was educated locally at Bruree National School, County Limerick and Charleville Christian Brothers School, County Cork. Aged sixteen, he won a scholarship to Blackrock College, County Dublin, where he began playing rugby. Later during his tenure at Rockwell College, he joined the school's rugby team where he played fullback on the first team, which reached the final of the Munster Senior Cup. De Valera went on to play for the Munster rugby team in the mid-1900s in the fullback position and remained a lifelong devotee of rugby, attending numerous international matches up to and towards the end of his life despite near blindness. He also developed an intensely close relationship with the Holy Ghost Order and its Blackrock College school from this time.

De Valera chose to keep Ireland neutral during WWII but allowed the German's access to Irish ports. Many of his country men signed up and gave their lives to fight against the Germans and to protect our freedom. As they have always done. The Irish are nothing if not brave and idealistic. That's what sets us apart and yet makes us special. We embrace everyone in the same spirit as they do us.

I am proud to be Irish.  

I am not proud of my countrymen who persist in violence in the name of freedom.

It is time to put bigotry aside and make a future worthy of our ancestors. And that goes for all factions.

BACK TO THE DARK AGES

The husband is in a right tizzy. The electricity has gone off yet again and he has missed half of the Alan Titchmarsh show and says if he misses CSI he is going to go ballistic missile. The odd thing is, when there was an outage during the thunder and lightning storm it only lasted for about an hour and a half. I can’t be sure because I wasn’t clock watching at the time. One can accept that the power lines can be damaged in bad weather. What is confusing is that today there is hardly a breeze. The girl at NIE said the team trying to fix the fault were finding that the fuses kept blowing. She also said the damage may be down to birds flying into the power lines. My neighbour was told the same thing. Apparently geese can smack into electricity wires although they must be blind and stupid. The one’s we see fly way above the poles and as far as I know, no one has found a fried goose anywhere around here.

I have been moaning about our unpredictable electricity supply for years.

Ms Natasha McGee of NIE went to great lengths to explain that there are a number of things that can affect supply. One is an automatic cut off programmed into the system so that it shuts down if it thinks it has experienced a fault. Or should that be potential fault?

Next thing we will be told is that flying saucers caused the lines to come down.

It is no wonder electricity is so expensive. They have all this technology yet the network isn’t fit for purpose.

Thankfully my computer is charged and I can moan away to my heart’s content … that’ll be the day as John Wayne would say.

The husband on the other hand is going mental and now the Rock has started crying. He is a sensitive wee dog and knows when his daddy is scunnered. To be fair he has a point. Playing draughts by candle light only lasts for two games. His heart isn’t in it and I will beat him.  He wants to see CSI. It is 9.05pm. NIE said it would be 9.00pm before power was restored. The husband is growling. He says how the F**k do they know that, when they don’t have a clue what the problem is? He says he is so feckin’ angry his head is going to explode. This is coming from the most laid back, kind and gentle man I know but missing Lesser Spotted Ulster from Kilraughts has pushed him over the edge.

NIE need to get their finger out. Or whatever it is they do. Stick their finger in a socket and get a buzz. After the fiasco that was the ice storm and the absence of repair crews around Calhame, Kilraughts, Killyrammer, Loughguile Ballycastle et al one would think they had learned a lesson. It seems not. The husband spent days looking for repair crews.

NIE kept insisting that there were area’s that were difficult to access. Tell that to the people who drove past poles listing to the side on their way to work or to get a shower at the Joey Dunlop Leisure Centre.

What about the people who had no water because the electric pumps didn’t work. The person I spoke to about it said that was Water Service’s problem.

If there is no electricity then Water Service isn’t to blame unless we are connected to a hydroelectric system. Now there’s a thing.

I wrote a piece about our 65 plus hours in the dark. Someone wrote a story for The Chronicle in the same vain as mine so there you go. Thankfully her husband is as handy as mine … albeit not as grumpy.

Loose Women

Andrea McLean, Cilla Black, Carol McGiffin and Denise Welsh, Sherrie Hewson and Jayne McDonald do my heart good. How liberating is it for women with vim and vinegar and differing views to get live telly time? The husband is in love with Denise. I don’t blame him but don’t tell Tim or he will come roon and heed butt Tiger. Well done Tim for taking that Pratt Jason Gardner to task.  

The girls cover all topics’s and are so honest and true to themselves that it is invigorating and the husband is near wetting himself laughing. He says; “Imagine that crowd landing at your door?” He wishes!

Can you picture Carol on the Karaoke machine doing her lounge singer act? Cilla would bring the house down and Denise would drink us out of house and home. I wouldn’t turn them away though. They are like me. Opinionated to the point of feisty … that is no bad thing.

Cilla’s Bobby cooked a leg of pork for their Sunday dinner and she asked him where the stuffing was. Her mum always made stuffing. (I am writing this in Cilla’s Scouse accent by the way). Bobby lifted it and said stuff you and stuff your mother and threw it out the window. Well, well.

Thankfully Tiger doesn’t like stuffing. He loves gallons of gravy though. I spend more time on gravy than the roast. He would never throw food out the window. The Rock and Tiger ate all the pork chops last night. Just as well I am inclined to like spuds and spring greens.

On a slightly darker note … the press complaints commission took a body blow they are going to regret when The Daily Telegraph were sanctioned for exposing Vince Cable. Investigative journalism is in danger of being gagged. Don’t get me wrong. I despise salacious stories. There is a place for the voice of the people and if celebrities and politicians can circumvent and hide behind the law then it is a rocky road to ruin.

It’s okay to print details of court cases and sensationalise murder but it is not permitted to analyse and report the true events and feelings of the public. Sad but true.

Life and fame and fortune are fleeting, so embrace every day and live life to the full. Treat every day as if it is your last. Pay attention to the world around you and cherish the people you love.

And don’t believe everything you read.   

Voting Apathy

The voting turnout is down in most constituencies. The government and the banks they are supposed to oversee have let us down to the point of bankrupting us. I wonder if the politicians are starting to realise that they are not speaking for the people anymore. They bicker among themselves. Try to score points off each other’s failings without recognising or addressing their own shortcomings.

Power corrupts. Not everyone succumbs to the fawning praise of peeps who want them to okay this or deny that. But many do. It is well known that many prominent politicians have milked the system for all it’s worth. That’s our tax money they have been relishing. Not only that. The system is systemically and institutionally corrupt.

If you think that the disclosure of fiddling expenses was bad, think again. There have been monumental wastes of money in the public sector and unless you are in the know you won’t have heard about it. There are computer systems that never saw the light of day. Contractors hired to do jobs for utilities’ that overcharged for their substandard work and employed workers from the Republic of Ireland who got paid by us and disappeared home to sign on the dole every Wednesday. Nice work if you can get it.

When a job went wrong and the public sought recompense those same contractors joined the government departments in litigation.

It is no wonder the majority of the population have decided not to vote. Faced with the same old, same old, they have chosen unanimously not to vote at all. Is anyone paying attention to this?

The latest think tank idea is that we pay for visits to A&E and for 

x-rays and other essential treatments on a sliding scale. Sliding scale … now there’s a thing! In 2006 the House of Commons Health Committee concluded that;

“As Professors Donald Light and Joel Lexchin stated:

Every study we know of done in Europe or North America documents again and again over the past 15 years that co-payments and other charges contradict the goals of a good health care system, harm patients, save little money, and generate little revenue”.

Pity no one was listening then and they certainly aren’t now. Car parking charges have been introduced at Causeway Trust.

This information will give you an idea of how much money is being made from the misery of sick people and their distraught families and it is well out of date now.              

Hospital parking spaces and income:

Total Parking Spaces Income from Staff Parking (£) Income from

Visitor Parking (£)

378,720 15,130,961 62,755,934

Figures provided on a voluntary basis. 80% of NHS hospital trusts responded.

Source: Estates Return Information Collection 2004/05.

My mum has Alzheimer’s. Because of the widespread use of generic medication from the cheapest source she is confused that her pills come in all shapes, sizes and colours. My own meds are currently from Spain but they come from all over. Everywhere except Britain that is. We can’t be certain we are taking medication that is actually what it says on the prescription anymore. But the powers that be are concerned that we are living longer and putting an increasing burden on the state. There wouldn’t be a state if not for the blood, sweat and tears of generations of hardworking, dedicated and patriotic people who paved the way for us. I am often ashamed that they sacrificed so much for a future that is driven by greed. Shame on us!    

MAD MANDY AND MOTORBIKE FEVER

The motor cycle racing season is well and truly up and vrooming.

Our spiritual wean, James “Wee Man” McCann is off to Bishop’s Court and like any spiritual mammy and daddy we wish we were able to go and cheer him on. I would go but Tiger will never leave the Rock. I think he loves that dog more than me. In fact he has as much as admitted it.

James new leathers are fabulous … so much so that I had to have my picture taken wearing them. OK! So they don’t fit tubby and I had to wrap them round me, but wear them I did.

James thinks I am nuts. He can talk. Racing at speeds in excess of 200mph is not for the faint hearted and you have to be a wee bit mad to want to.

I would love to go pillion. There is nothing to match the shear exhilaration of being out on a hog and getting a smack in the visor by insects. A huge bee nearly knocked me off my KE100 trail bike back in the day when I could fit into TT leathers.

I dropped the bike outside Wolfie Connors on the corner of New Market Street because I was afraid the guy in the car speeding on Long Commons didn’t clock me. I was so busy watching him I lost speed and fell over. He tooted on his way past.

First time I took the bike down Portstewart prom a motorist coming out of the harbour car park looked right at me. Or so I thought. He pulled out in front of me and I was so afraid I pulled the front brake and nearly went over the handle bars. He hadn’t looked at me, he looked through me.  

Still have my lid after all these years but sadly the bike is long gone.

Tiger and I worked in the Seasplash Hotel in Portstewart in the late 70’s early 80’s and the craic was mighty. Dave and Shirley Henderson owned it and all the best bikers stayed there.

Roger Marshall doing a damned good impression of Rod Stewart singing Maggie May and dropping his trolleys to show us Scotland raised the roof.

I wonder if Steve Parrish remembers me. Two guys had told me they were him to get into the disco and when Steve wanted in I told him to p**s off. He did make an impression on everyone by going round Ballyreagh golf course with one club and whipped everyone. He is a talented guy in more ways than one.

I miss the late great Norry White of Motorcycle News. His pal Ewart Toms misses him too. Many wonderful, full of life friends are no longer with us. Tom Herron, Joey and Robert Dunlop and many more. Gone but not forgotten heroes.

Kevin Stowe came off and was lucky to survive. After a long time in hospital Raymond Gillespie and us nuts took him and his girlfriend Michelle to Donegal to the Talk of the Town. We stayed in The National and Tiger and my bed fell off its frame and we had to put it back together. There was no jiggy jiggy by the way. We were wrecked so put those naughty thoughts out of your heeds!

Shelley and Robert were tucking into a big breakfast when I appeared. I stuck my knife into my egg and heaved. Had to go back to bed!

Wayne Gardner (who wasn’t in Donegal) was shorter than me and I am four foot eleven and a half.

How he got his leg over that bike is a mystery to me. I bought a bike I can’t ride because it is too high for me. Tiger brought it out to the field and I was able to get on with him weighing it down. He started squealing like a wee girl that I was going too fast. I was in second gear! I got off and told him to park the bike. He parked it in the ditch but forgot to get off. Said the grass was wet. It was bone dry.

His sister is a Biker Babe who rides an 1100cc BMW Boxer cup and a 955I Sprint Triumph called Tweety Orr. It is as yellow as a dandelion. It is a powerful machine and fibrates. It is like nothing else. That is why bikers love it. The bike resonates within us.

Tiger picked Paul Gregg (York Hotel, Portstewart) up one day on the way home from walking the Rock. Paul had to get in the back as Rocky likes the front passenger seat. Paul couldn’t help commenting that Rocky leaned into the corners. Tiger said, “That’s nothing. You want to see him on the back of the bike”.     

THE ROYAL WEDDING

The husband got an invitation to the royal wedding … or so we thought until he read the small print. It was an invitation to buy tat to commemorate the occasion but it sure looked the part. We showed it to some mates and they were gobsmacked until we told them it was an elaborate attempt to get us to buy a coin (no doubt made in China to boot). What a bummer! I was ready to go and spend his arm and leg buying outfits. Oh well, what the hell! Who would want to go to Westminster Abbey and hob nob with the “great and the good”? I just wouldn’t fit in and would be barred from the reception for drinking all the champagne and singing Town Without Pity whilst standing on the wedding cake table.  

It is going to be a great occasion though. A commoner marrying a prince is a fairy tale come true. OK! So Kate Middleton is no Cinderella. She is a rather wealthy young lady. And lady she is.

Kate is beautiful and friendly and the perfect person to be the next Queen of Great Britain and the Commonwealth.

She has not been groomed to live an insular existence far removed from the rest of us peeps. She is one of us peeps. How wonderful.

And you know what? In these dark days of austerity it is time for optimism and love and gathering together to celebrate.

It is awful and crazy that some extremists want to hijack the occasion to make a point. Why do they not accept that we have a monarchy and there are two young people in love who deserve the best wishes of us all?

Who would want to disrupt such a joyous day? Sad peeps that can’t see the wood for the trees that’s who!

Marriage is a bond in anyone’s language or religion. It should be sacred, not exploited.    

It only took Tiger 32 years to say “I Will” and I had to wrench his arm up his back. Wreck the house Ruby was dismantling the CD player and for some strange reason I had tears in my eyes. Tiger nearly went too but I guess that was due to the pain in his elbow and wrist. They call the wife the ball and chain. I had to use a ball and chain to drag mine to the registrar’s office.

With hindsight I don’t know what I was thinking off. Tiger and the Rock take up the entire king size bed and I have had to sleep in Rocky’s little bed at times. They tell me I snore! I am going to record them some night and then they will realise what real snoring sounds like.

Back to the Royal Wedding.

Kate and Will have been living together so they already know each other’s foibles and they are going to tie the knot anyway. Or perhaps they are getting hitched because they like those wee idiosyncrasies that make a relationship more interesting and precious. For all my santering life is never dull with Tiger. I hope Kate and Will enjoy a long and exciting life together.       

If anyone in Ballymoney is thinking of having a street party on the BIG DAY count me in. I love to cook and have big pots. It is an opportunity to have a great day in each other’s company. How bad can that be? I can’t sing sadly but do anyway, but I can dance if that is OK peeps. And my stew is pretty good even if I say so myself.

We need a band on hand. I can feel a PARTY coming on.

All the very best to the happy couple. Cheers m’ dears.   

Sent Off

OK. You all know I am a sandwich short of a picnic. Well … I did the ultimate bad girl thing by picking up a ball that bounced right in front of me at one of the rugby matches on Saturday and ran up the pitch into the scrum. The lads could not have been nicer. They gave me another oval ball (weird things but lovely to hold) and let me throw it in. The assistant referee sent me off and he didn’t even give me a red card. Perhaps they don’t have those in Rugby. It is a real contact sport and I love it. I should have been a boy and then I would have played all my life. Unfortunately the knees are knackered and I am past my prime but I still crave the weave and tackle. And the scrum yum which is my own fantasy world.

What they didn’t know is that I broke my right big toe at Christmas and I am still feeling the pain. Who cares? Not me! Rugby players get all sorts of injuries and they take it without a grumble or moan and I am made from the same mould and proud to be so. 

They are an awful good crowd; great craic and all taller than me.

Right! So I am four foot eleven inches and a half. Everyone apart from the kids is taller than me. There are peeps over six feet tall for goodness sake. I came home with a creak in my neck from looking up at them.

Apparently some of the guys thought I was going to streak. I must hoke out that old Ray Stevens song for next time. “Ethel … you get your clothes on”.  

Game as they are I did tell them that gravity has taken its toll and things have gone south. They don’t mind. That’s why they are my honeys. They take us as they find us and all in good spirit.

I had such a great day. I wouldn’t have been standing where the ball landed except that Tickles … her with the baby grow … had to go for a smoke.

As a reformed puffer myself I am always giving off to her. May as well talk to the dog and ask him to stop lying with his crown jewels on the pillow.

Spring has sprung and I have a new lease of life. Oh dear! That ain’t necessarily a good thing because I do get carried away. The husband lives in hope that I do get carried away. I wonder why that is?

Even though I ran on for all of a minute I am feeling the burn today. That Rugby playing takes some stamina. I saw a lad with a black eye. Guess what? He didn’t lie down and cry like the babies who play football. He got up and played on as if it never happened.

To say I admire them is an understatement. Tiger used to play prop forward back in the day. I like to tackle him when he least expects it. He is a tall guy too. I only reach up to his armpit. I may be wee but I am wicked.

I am getting my own kit and will stand on the side-lines ready to make a conversion. One can dream.   

Males and Remote Controls

I have come to the conclusion that the only difference between men and boys is the price of their toys. The husband and the dog have always had control of the remote. Even when he is sleeping and I try to sneak it off him he grips it and growls … the husband that is, not the dog!

Rocky changes channels just by rolling over the remote. He is one smart dog. Pity he split soup over the remote by pawing my tray and I had to go on-line and buy another. Tiger dried the wet one out and when the new one arrived he commandeered it and allowed me to have the old one. How generous!

We have a mate who we call gadget man. He loves everything that is new-fangled and labour saving. I think I may have had a hand in encouraging him when I bought him this little remote vacuum cleaner thingamajig. He then bought a state of the art boyo that goes from room to room sucking up everything. Serves him right if it sucks up the remote control and it’s never seen again.

Then he bought Evo (short for evolution I think). It cuts the grass. It is a step away from intelligent life. It goes into its wee garage and charges itself up and then comes out and mows the lawn. Knows when the grass is too wet to cut and has an IQ higher than mine.

Tiger has enough tools to start his own hardware store. He never keeps like with like and I despair sometimes. Why do men like to leave tools all over the place and why do they come to us lesser beings to help them find a screwdriver?

Tiger is currently in a tizzy because the electric gates keep getting stuck and I have to say that against my advice (which is a waste of breath) he kept trying to open and close them in the snow. In my humble opinion that put a strain on the motors. Apparently not according to him! Yeah says I. How come they worked perfectly well beforehand? I am slightly sorry guys but you do make the most ridiculous excuses when things go wrong … especially when you are holding the spanner. Tiger says water got into the motor. The mechanism (whatever that is) needs cleaned and oiled. OK. If I am wrong about putting pressure on the system fighting the snow drift I will admit it. In my experience outside influences are the causes of every catastrophe men encounter. Don’t get me wrong. I love you guys. You are rather thran and like to futter with all things mechanical and the more moving parts the better.

Women tend to be more pragmatic and even call for help when needed. You guys plough on regardless.

Why read the instructions? You know how to build a shed or a dolls house without help. How come there are all these spare screws, nuts and bolts left over then?

       

Peter Pan on Ice

Tyler wanted to go to see Peter Pan on Ice at the Grand Opera House and bring her mates Abbey and Kirsty so I got the tickets on-line. Kirsty’s lovely mum Eileen delivered the kids and picked them up from the good old and dilapidated Ballymoney Railway Station.

On the day of the event I slept in. Not enough to warrant the husband harassing me to near insanity to get in the shower even though Nick was there giving him a hand by washing the windows and I had to hang out the bathroom window in my dressing gown to say hello and shoot the breeze. Nick is lovely. His brother Simon was so scared he would end up mentioned in the best newspaper ever that when I first met him he told me he was Nicholas. Ha! Ha! Squeak shopped him. That’s his dad by the way. The one who calls his phone Mary Jane! No wonder the lads are confused. Imagine a rugby player scared of a little peep like me? He will never live it down. I will make sure of that.   

Meanwhile back at the ranch. The husband got to the point where he wanted to drag me out half dressed. He would rather be an hour early than live life on the edge where you get a buzz from catching trains by the skin of your teeth. We had plenty of time but people who are time conscious are rather up tight. I don’t wear a watch. I haven’t done in years. Time watching can do your heed in. Deadlines can become more important than spending time in good company. Wonder who thought up that term? It is worth thinking about.

I shoved whatever I could grab into my handbag and shouted goodbye to Nick. Half way to the station the husband asks if I brought the tickets for Peter Pan. No need to tell you I hadn’t!

When I told Eileen as she relinquished the kids into my care she looked as if she should drag them back.

We made it to The Big Smoke. Stuffed ourselves at Subway and bought enough sweets and drinks to last a Girls Brigade outfit. Eileen popped in to check we were OK. Bless her.

The gals at the Opera House ticket office were really lovely and re-printed the tickets. The Abbey doll is afraid of lifts so I had to walk them up to The Gods. Thought I was going to expire. The arthritic knees were grinding and creaking. The Gods is really high up and Abbey, high on an energy drink wanted to know if she could climb over the rail. I thought I was going to have to tie her down. They really enjoyed the Russian Ice Skaters. Their wee faces were lit up and after the show they were all talking at once, much to the delight of people around us. There is nothing quite as rewarding as a happy young person.

We were able to get a seat for four on the 17.10 train from Great Victoria Street. So many people got on at Central that there weren’t enough seats. I gave mine to a lovely man called James and he managed the girls like an old hand. James said he didn’t know the time passing. Such a lovely man and I hope we meet again. Ring Lyle and get my phone number honey.

So now to the moaning! Some mums and their young children were in the same carriage. The mum with the youngest had left her pram at the only place she could which was next to the door on the track side that wouldn’t be opened. The conductor came along and told her she couldn’t leave it there. I helped her lift part of it onto the rack. In my opinion it was more of a health and safety risk teetering up there. It could have fallen on someone. She folded the rest up and we tried to push it between the seats but it wouldn’t fit so she set it up against the side of the non-access point. The other people in the carriage could not believe that a nursing mother would be forced to do this. The same conductor told two girls who sat down opposite the pram that they had to stand. Shame on you guys at Translink. Has it not twigged that you need more carriages at rush hour? The Tall Ships debacle hasn’t taught you a thing. And the government want us to use public transport. Where are the facilities for storing prams? If someone can’t stand any longer and sits down on the floor are they going to be turfed off? Were the mum and her baby and pram going to follow? Do you get a discount if you don’t get a seat? I think not!        

The Census

Hat’s off to Janet Street-Porter on the Alan Titchmarsh show for questioning the purpose and cost of the census and the people tasked with compiling the information. Arms dealers! She is some Gal.

One has to ask why the government wants to know who was staying at your house on March 27^th and how that information is going to help improve services in the future.

If you are out of the country on that date does it make you exempt from filling in the extremely long form?

The respected journalist Rosemary Bennett who is Social Affairs Correspondent for the Sunday Times wrote...

“Almost £500 million will be spent on the biggest and most expensive census in an attempt to measure Britain's true immigrant population.

Questions have been added to try to establish how long people have been living here, what passports they hold and their nationality.

Ministers have been forced to admit that they have no idea how many immigrants are in Britain, which means that public services in areas of high migrant populations are often stretched because spending decisions are made using inaccurate data.

For the 2011 Census, millions of pounds will be spent on a new mailing list to make sure that every property is included”.

It is a farce. If the government think illegal immigrants or those who can’t read or write are going to fill in the forms they are deluded to the point of utter stupidity. And as far as I know the government don’t build places of worship so why do you have to state your religion?   

If the “powers that be” (and let’s face it they are shadows and puppet master’s in the background) cared a fig for the future and our welfare they would ask pertinent questions such as how good is your health service? Have you street lights and are you linked to a sewer system? We don’t and aren’t yet we paid nearly £2000 pounds in rates last year. I dread to think what it is going to be this year.

People in rural areas are really struggling. The elderly can’t afford to heat their homes. Friends I have met through Facebook are tuned into what is happening in the world and they have knowledge of oil moguls hoarding supplies so they can make a bigger profit.

No matter who is in power they are taxing us to the point where people can no longer have hope for a better future. Income tax, Vehicle Excise Duty, tax on fuel, value added tax (whether you get value for money or not), National Insurance, tax on the pittance of interest on your savings, tax on a wee glass of wine … it goes on and on. If they could tax the air we breathe they would, and probably will. Janet and I would make one formidable pair.

Back to Rosemary’s article.

“James Hulme, a spokesman for the New Local Government Network (NLGN), an independent think-tank, said: “We calculated that the Government could save about £250 million by drawing on records from existing public services, such as GP surgery lists and the electoral roll which is updated each year, rather than every ten years. At a time when the public finances are stretched, this is an ideal way of saving money.”

Councils said that they did not want spending decisions to be made on the basis of the census. They were furious at being short-changed because resources were allocated on the basis of the 2001 Census. The Local Government Association said that improving alternative sources of information such as national insurance numbers would give a much clearer picture.”

When are we going to get smart and caring people into government? People who aren’t out for what they can get for themselves

THE RIP OFF WORLD

I am fed up to the back teeth and beyond. We have oil moguls who are hoarding fuel so they can benefit from the price hikes and make more money. They are making mega bucks from the misery of those who can least afford to keep warm. That would be the elderly and the poorest in society.

Add to that the fact that the government used our money to bail out the bankers who gambled our money and lost it and continue to award themselves rather large bonuses and you get one really pissed off person.

My sister-in-law has a wee cleaning business and works herself to the bone. One of her extremely well off property management firms has decided to deduct 10% from her fee. I am ripping mad.

When is the rip off society going to be stopped?

Local solicitors banded together at the time the cost of property went wild. They agreed to charge a percentage for conveyance that was ridiculously high for the amount of work involved. Some sold endowment mortgages by telling clients that they would reduce their fees. In fact they were making commission from the endowment assurance companies and many people, including myself and my husband, found out too late that we would have a shortfall so huge that we would not be able to use the endowment to pay off our mortgage. If we hadn’t been fortunate enough to sell the house and make a profit we would be facing living on the streets. Had we gone for a repayment we would have been home and dry. As would many like us.

They also “overlooked” a boundary problem that caused us great difficulty when we were selling our property and Hugh Clarke of Greer Hamilton and Gailey with offices in Ballymoney County Antrim and Portstewart County Londonderry made disrespectful remarks about our new solicitor. The new guys and gals are totally above board and if you need good honest legal advice contact Wilson Nesbitt in Belfast or Bangor. They came highly recommended to us and I can assure you they are the real deal.  

I tried to make a complaint to the law society about the whole sad situation but they only talk to solicitors and legal eagles. I sent a detailed report to the Financial Services Authority. They returned it and said they had not logged it. They suggested I go back to the law firm and make a complaint. I did and they refused to accept liability.

Who exactly is protecting us from “the greed is our creed” crowd?

My sister-in-law is the most generous and hardworking, kind and honourable person I know and I am gutted that this is happening to her. She feels really bad about injustice and I am standing beside her in this. I say name and shame the twats. But she can’t. They can wiggle and wriggle their way out of everything while cashing in on the misery of others.

It makes me sick.

Nothing has changed. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. I know there are many philanthropic people doing their best for those less fortunate but for every one of them there are many more taking advantage.

I am not afraid to name and shame though I know that many people are afraid to. Hugh Clarke can come after me if he wants. I have kept every piece of correspondence and I am up for a fight.

As for my dearest sis … I have her back and always will do.

She is like a Tiger when she gets up a good head of steam and right now she is misting up the windows … She says it is dog eat dog out there and she is so right. Things are going to get worse so prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Peace be peeps.

MANDY MOANS NO MORE

New life & Causeway Maternity via my gardening

I have been trying to gear myself up for the new growing season. Last year’s attempt at “grow your own” went many seedlings too far. I will never grow pumpkins in the poly-tunnel again. It was like Day of the Triffids in there and if you stood too long beside the beans they wrapped climbers on you … I jest you not. They were climbing and clinging onto anything and everything. I planted too many tomatoes and chillies. I had lettuce that shot. Clearly I didn’t harvest it fast enough or it should have been grown outside. Peas are better outside, beans inside. My purple sprouting broccoli shot but produced the most wonderful green and tasty leaves that they sustained us through the winter. And lo and behold they are producing flowering heads now. Growing potatoes in tyres was perhaps not my best idea and forgetting what was where left the long suffering husband swearing that he is growing sweet damn all this year. I did go mad at the start and then my interest waned a bit when I found a particularly good book to read and he was left to tend and water for days on end.

But the plants thrived despite me. Nature has the most wonderful survival mechanism I have ever witnessed.

Much as I am awed by it I have to tell you about the best new life experience I have ever had.

My baby sister Kelly was taken into the Causeway Maternity Unit to have her third baby’s birth induced. Her blood sugar levels were a concern and the team wanted to monitor her and make sure everything was ok. And what a wonderful, caring team they are.

I came to see Kelly at afternoon visiting time and they were taking her to the delivery suite to do some sort of gel rub to induce delivery. She got out of bed, looked and me and said I've peed myself ... Happy Days! The Nurse said she means her waters have broken. I stayed with her as long as possible while Johnny tried to get a grip ... He doesn't cope well with the birthing thing until it’s over ... Bless him. It was around 5.00pm when I finally had to go and Johnny rang just before 7.00pm to say the baby had popped out in short order. According to Kelly she knew it was coming and Johnny nearly ran out and she had to tell him to take deep breathes and calm down. Men! 

Mother and baby are doing great. I am ... I can't describe it ... Awestruck and tearful and happy. I would spend all day in the hospital if they would let me.

Summer Isabella was born on March 16^th and weighed in at 7lb 14 & 1/2 ounces. She is beautiful. Her big sisters and her Granny Eileen came to see her. They are as taken with her as everyone else. I can’t thank the Midwife Jenny and trainee Laura enough for the care and support they gave Kelly. Doctor Rami was lovely. And I want Heather the tornado to come and live with me. Boy can she whizz round and clean and tidy and dress babies. I bet she would have my house spick and span and the seedlings in before I dragged myself out of bed.

There are many beautiful babies born at the Causeway Maternity Unit and sometimes the staff are hard pressed because nature takes its natural course and they can be inundated with mums in different stages of labour. They don’t always have enough beds. Many mums need Caesarean Sections and it’s clear it can get pretty hectic. Thing is … everyone was smiling even though they were in pain, before, during and after giving birth. Thanks to the team of dedicated carers and deliverers of little bundles of joy they made it all worthwhile.              

  

JUSTICE

When I worked in the Claims Unit in Belfast, hand in hand with the CPS, I so admired Piers Grant who was a barrister.

I felt so privileged to work with him at the time. I am shocked that he sentenced a woman to prison for stealing a £10 pair of jeans.

Back in the 1980’s/90’s barristers were making a fortune from public liability claims and most of the time they didn’t even want to put up a fight. They were getting paid regardless of the outcome so why bother to put themselves out?

Now Piers is a judge. Well, well, well.

He seems to have forgotten how they all looked sideways back in the day and for some reason has decided to lay down the law that did not apply to them then.

If it wasn’t so sad it would be laughable.

The barristers were getting paid unbelievable amounts of money for doing very little. They flounced around in their wigs and gowns and negotiated settlements to save them fighting for justice.

I learned that going to court was the last place to seek justice.

It is as corrupt an establishment as so many closed organisations are in the world that puts greed first. The people in charge looked down on us with glee and rubbed their hands in anticipation of their fees.

I don’t know the ins and outs of the case but I have a feeling that if a person was driven to steal a £10 pair of jeans she needed help. Not a prison sentence. Shame on you Piers!

As for robbery … the law society has got away with daylight robbery for a long time. That is between you and your peers.   

DIFFERING BELIEFS

I never thought I would hear myself say that I agree with a politician after so many robbed us blind and destroyed the NHS and other important utilities. But I find myself agreeing with David Cameron’s ideology about the failure of a multicultural Britain.

We Irish have exported ourselves all over the world and do our best to fit in.

Granted, our love of the spirit is not tolerated everywhere, but in most of those places the weed is an acceptable substitute. Don’t do as I do. Do as I say!

Cameron is right in what he says about people from different cultures coming to the UK and keeping themselves segregated from the natives. It is all very well to want a better life and come here to live off the state which is funded by … who? That would be the people they don’t want to integrate with. What is the point of making a journey only to recreate a microcosm of the place you were escaping from?

I have witnessed the caste system in places like India and Pakistan. I have seen how women are treated like shackles; afraid to show their faces in public because they would be stoned to death by men who have no respect for them; and apparently no respect for us either. Why come to a country you do not want to be part of? It really does not make sense.

There are so many wonderful people who have come here and enriched our lives. I love them with all my heart. It is Chinese Year of the Rabbit. I was born in 1960 which I think is the year of the rat. No surprise there then.

I am not saying our cultural society is perfect. Far from it! When I see wee girls out half naked and drunk and falling in the gutter it makes me wish I could turn away. If we all turn away where is this going to end?

I have many friends from all over the world. Tolerant, hopeful people striving to make a better future.

Cameron may just be pointing us in the right direction though we will have to see how that goes. The good people like the Muslim Council are appalled by what he has said. It is time they got out on the streets and found out the true situation. It is all very well for learned men to sit in comfort and debate law. Out on the street there is no law anymore.

So we have differing beliefs. Can we not compromise? After all we share this planet … our home. It is what sustains us in the end.

If we don’t wise up and join together we are going to be extinct.