Cruise Control in Oireland

So Tom Cruise, the megawatt star with the megawatt smile, was in town yesterday.

He had a new film to promote. So, the usual red carpet meet n’ greet outside the Savoy then….. But a Certificate of Irishness? Presented by the Deputy Prime Minister? And a Guinness photo op. Really?? The guy doesn’t need personal publicity. I smell a ‘Gathering’ notion……

I have no clue how these things work. Whose PR contacted who first? His, the Government’s, Diageo? Meetings, cosy chats about who, what, where, when – and how much?

Shure gazillions of people have Irish roots somewhere back the line, if you go far enough. American Presidents like to come here to explore their Irish heritage/schmooze the Irish votes back home. Or the Democrat ones at least. Amazing how Republican Presidents don’t have any Irish roots to mine. Apart from one who went down Ballyporeen way….

Will Ferrell, Beyonce, Sarah Jessica Parker, Michael Jackson, and plenty of others most likely, have traversed our highways n’ byways in recent times, unfettered by a politician or a pint getting shoved in their faces. In fact, back when Tom was over here filming Far and Away, himself and Nicole popped up in lots of counties and lots of peoples snaps, casually and quietly. What has changed?

Graham Norton interviewed Tom Cruise recently. No couch-sharing banter with the other guests for him. Apart from with his female co star, of course. She dutifully wittered on about how amazing it was to star alongside, indeed sit alongside the Cruise-meister. Over the course of the interview, Tom’s hair actually goes from curiously tossed to smooth to tossed several times. It suggests a high level of editing room chopping and pasting before being aired….

And now of course we have Cruise Control’s Late Late interview to look forward to. Prerecorded, closed set. Wild guess – no Scientology, ex wives, divorces or children on the discussion sheet. But all about the fillum, the fame and the Oirishness. A schmooze to Cruise from start to finish.

Do you recall Ryan’s Tubridy’s very first Late Late Show? He eviscerated one Brian Cowen, about his governing style, his socializing, his drinking. And what a prescient interview it turned out to be, come that infamous (Morning After) Morning Ireland interview. God be with those Tubridy days…

Ryan will be on a Mission Impossible. While Tom Cruises. In Control.

Maybe I’ll be Far and Away.

Money for Old Horses…

It’s hard to pick out which is the scariest aspect of the horsemeat scandal. Current levels of industry regulation and enforcement are certainly frightening. But what about back when there was even less?

Horse passports were only introduced in Ireland 2004.

Micro chipping only came in compulsorily in 2009.

Commercial horses (show jumpers, racehorses) have long carried ID papers, but what of regular types e.g. those in riding schools, or privately owned, or those animals say, at Ballinasloe/Smithfield horse fair?

In 1998, I owned a horse.

She was rising 16 years of age, had sustained a long term injury and needed to be retired from active work. I did not own or have access to any land to retire her on. Nor did I want to consider the ‘nuclear’ option, that others would.

So – in my innocence – I placed an advert offering her ‘free to good home’. I had no idea what response, if any, I would get. But wasn’t expecting what happened next.

A man rang, saying he was looking for an older horse, to run with yearlings, be a calming influence etc. I asked where he was based, could I come and view his lands and so on. I was happy enough, took his name and number, saying I would decide and call him back.

　

But via a totally chance conversation subsequently, I discovered that this man was a horse dealer. Bought, sold, traded. And sent for slaughter. Paid by weight, the heavier the animal, the more cash for him. No paperwork would change hands of course. There was none.

　

I should have copped it when instead of asking about her health and temperament, he was asking what height my horse was and if she was light boned i.e. how many kgs could he exchange on the scales, for cold, hard cash?

I did not ring him back.

But he was not done. He actually made THREE separate approaches to me in total, using different names and phone numbers. But wiser now, and using a few appropriate contacts, I sussed it out and did not respond. So he gave up.

I eventually did manage to find a ‘free to good home’ for my horse. And delivered her there myself.

There is, and has been, money in dead horses, for a long time. Whether we like it, or like to think about it, or not.

Back then I vaguely knew of only one horse abattoir in Ireland.

There is actually three now – (B&F Meats, Thomastown, Co Kilkenny , Ashgrove Meats, Newcastlewest in Limerick & Shannonside Foods, in Straffan, Co.Kildare).

Who knew?

I’m not suggesting that my horse or any other might have ended up in the food chain back then – although let’s face it, who honestly could say?

But when you consider how poorly the (albeit weak) system of regulation has worked lately, it is worth at least pondering what might possibly have gone on, back when there was just about no regulation at all.

‘If you build it, they will come..(cycling)’

 

So, Transport Minister Leo Varadkar wants to build a cycle lane from Galway to Dublin. A positive news story, with heaps of potential benefits, for our ailing economy and ailing (unfit/fat) population. Applause!

 

But this being Ireland, his proposal is of course met with howls of mockery, derision and begrudgery. Being incapable to the point of blindness of the seeing the big picture, (tourism, employment, health benefits) Irish people bang on about the country being broke, the existing roads needing fixing, it not being needed/wanted and so on.

 

And of course we can do begrudgery on a more local level too. A new cycle route recently opened between Nenagh, North Tipperary and the East Limerick suburbs. A 64 km round trip, on the now much quieter former N7 since the motorway finally opened. Cue more grumbling before and during the construction phase. Topped off by one opinion I read declaring it a ‘colossal waste of money’ if people didn’t use it.

 

I’ve been pondering how exactly you measure the worth of a cycle route before roundly declaring it a success/failure. What level of use is expected? Peloton size groups whizzing along? Traffic lights required for crowd control? Or how quickly do you decide – remember the pathway is there for years, maybe generations to come…

 

Well I live along this new route, and see the users pass by my window every day (or if I peer through the ditch at least). People like;

 

• Cycling groups/clubs, who drive from near and far to park up at either end. I see their vans and bikes in car parks and outside shops and restaurants, as well as cruising swishly along the road.

 

• National Youth Cycling, who used a section of the route recently for their One Day Championship. The hotel I saw them (and their families and supporters) all piling into afterwards are surely glad the pink path goes past their front door.

 

• Paralympic hand-cyclist Mark Rohan, who regularly traversed the route this Spring on his way to magnificent double gold in London 2012.

 

But it’s not just athletes who are using it;

 

• How shall we say – somewhat less fit men, of all shapes and sizes, on bikes of all shapes and sizes. Knees akimbo, scraping their way up hills, puffing their way along. Getting out there. And getting there.

 

• Families; Daddy manfully up front, Mammy eyeing the brood from the back, variety of kids wobbling and wavering along in between. All taking in the air, the scenery, the quality time together.

 

• Heck, it even tempted me to jog on it a few times. Sometimes I wonder what the cyclists might think of this. But then I reckon exercisers of a feather, etc. Am even pondering the notion of a two wheeled purchase…

 

Cynics could of course argue that all these people were exercising somewhere else before this route was built. And maybe they were. But perhaps they were not…

 

So, let’s see then. This cycle route is bringing people and business to towns and villages in its environs. It is improving the health and well being of its users. It might, therefore, keep people out of hospitals in the future. It may even save lives.

 

Now who could put a price on all that?

When Crime comes Home

 

‘Home Sweet Home’

‘A Man’s Home is his Castle’

‘There’s no Place like Home’

‘Home is Where the Heart is’

Home: the place you come back to at the end of a day, for familiarity, security, safety, for everything you hold dear.

But in the space of three days in Ireland recently, for these three people, home became instead, the most dire antithisis of all it should have held for them.

Eugene Gillespie (67) most likely answered the door of his Sligo home to one or more would be burglers. Such was their anxiety to render him helpless, they broke his jaw and bound his hands to the point of cutting off the circulation. Eugene lay unconscious and dying on the hall floor of his home for up to 48 hours before being discovered on 21^st September. He died in hospital the next day .

　

Anna Finnegan (26) was living in a Dublin suburb with her two very young children. She had recently asked her brother to come and stay with them. Her ex partner, against whom she had just secured a barring order, managed to gain entry to her home on 21^st September . He repeatedly stabbed her and her brother, who had come to her defence. Then, as their two children slept upstairs, he bundled her from her home into his car, where he subsequently dumped her at the A & E doors of the nearest hospital. Anna subsequently died.

‘

Ciara Pugsley (15) did not die in her own home. She took her own life in a forest near her home in Leitrim on the 19^th of September. But crime, which led to her death, did visit her home. Ciara was bullied, on social networking sites, to the point that she could not take any more. In the childhood of my era, bullying happened in the classroom, the yard, or on the journey to or from school. But as was so wisely pointed out on a radio discussion last week, once you got home the bullying stopped. You could close the door and leave it behind, for that day at very least.

But the cyber-bully is a 24/7, all pervasive and most stealthy operator. Just about every teenager has a mobile phone and a Facebook account. And therein lies the invisible yet very clear pathway to be evilly  jibed at, insulted, threatened at will. Even in the refuge of your bedroom, even at 3am – just because your phone is your alarm clock call.

Three days, three crimes, three people not coming home.

RIP.

The Simpsons as role models – who knew?!

So – how’s your HD TVgetting on? Signed up for Saorview yet? Got Sky multi-room?

For a technophobe like me, who also lives ‘down the country’ in Ireland, there is a plethora of choices currently doing the rounds.

For the record, I have a Sky-Box, but also an aerial for the Irish channels on the ‘old’ telly. This way someone can watch the ‘foreign’ channels, while elsewhere in the house the ‘RTEs’ are on. I call it the Irish solution to Sky Multi Room.

We should be more like them – no, really…

So there I was, pondering the cost of replacing the pensioner TV for a Saorview-ready one, opting to buy a Saorview box or looking at other SKY options. I mentioned it – ok moaned about it – over on the Twitter. A few people debated what to do back and forth, then I got this reply, from @PatQuirke;

‘or you could opt for family viewing, like the olden days’

Well – you could have knocked me down with the RTE Guide. So obvious, yet almost quaint and dare I say it, alien to modern day living? I’m ashamed to say I hadn’t even considered it.

It’s not that we don’t all sit down in this house and watch stuff together. But how often do you sidle off to catch your favourite drama or soap because the kids are in the middle of Cartoon Time? Or slide in a DVD for them while you retreat to The Sunday Game? Or how about ‘feigned accompaniment’ ie actually sitting in front of the tv with your children, but then reading/texting/tweeting/surfing on your device of choice. Guilty as charged – anyone else?

Pat’s comment also sent me straight back to the couch of my own childhood;

• My Dad roaring with laughter at Tom & Gerry. He’d still enjoy it I reckon.
• Sitting in watching Saturday Sport because it was pouring outside. Dad’s initial choice again maybe, but it’s where my passion for horse-racing began.
• All gathering round for the latest instalments of ‘Roots’ or ‘Upstairs Downstairs’ or ‘All Creatures Great and Small’. Hugely enjoyable and much more educational than I would have realised at the time. Although I’m not sure what I learnt from ‘The Thorn Birds’ apart from the town in Louth being pronounced ‘ Drog-eeda’.
• Trying to beat your siblings shouting out answers to ‘Quicksilver’ or ‘Where in the World’. Similarly, but with a lot less actual shouting out, to ‘Mastermind’.
• Being plonked in front of a film ( ‘Noooo! not black n’white!’) and loving classics like ‘A Night to Remember’, ‘Lassie Come Home’ and also ‘The Boy with Green Hair’ – yes…
• And cheering madly for your favourites on ‘It’s a Knockout’ or ‘Superstars’ (birthplace of the Pat Spillane tan).

I say this not just to fondly reminisce (or show my age). But this tv time was a special and important part of family life and of growing up. How do I know this? Because I remember it. Vividly. Memories are made of this etc.

These days there’s so much more channel choice, any manner of electronic games, and also more after-school activities. But when it does come to tv, how about making a better effort to study the schedules and make some conscious family-viewing choices?

It’s time to make like The Simpsons and head for the couch. Doh!

The Spelling Bee (in my Bonnet)

I posted this photo on Twitter recently, taken outside a local shopping centre.

Judging by the amount of RTs and mentions it generated, (still circulating 3 days after I posted it) I think it irritated a lot of people as much as it did me.

　

There are lots of reasons why people can’t or don’t spell correctly. Learning difficulties, dyslexia, carelessness. Teenagers preferring txt spk. (I think I would surely faint correcting the horror show that is 2^nd level exam papers). But that is all ok, to a greater or lesser degree.

While all and any incorrect spelling still annoys me, it is professional misspelling i.e. in business that I find an unforgivable crime.

Take Easons, above, as an example. They sell stationery. They sell school books. They sell dictionaries, for Heaven’s sake. But they don’t see fit to ensure that their signage is spelt correctly. Someone else tweeted that they saw this same mistake in another branch and mentioned it to the manager. The response?

‘ Thank you, but we have no plans to change it’

This, remember, from a company who also sponsored a National Spelling Bee for children recently. The mind boggles.

I was in the very salubrious foyer of a new hotel recently. The wall behind the reception desk was a vast marble and glass affair with the words of some grand poem or saying etched across it. The effect was impressive. Except, right behind the level of the receptionist’s head was inscribed

‘Generousity’

I immediately wondered if it was ever noticed by the proprietors. Did they weigh up the – no doubt – substantial cost of fixing it? Did they say ‘ah sure it’ll do’. Or did they even care. To me, nothing screams ‘we are unprofessional’ more than bad spelling/grammar. The sentiment in this very wonderful statement regarding punctuation could equally apply to spelling;

“An apostrophe is the difference between a business that knows its shit and a business that knows it’s shit”

(who wrote that anyway?! I could just hug them.)

Stationery/stationary is very high on my list of criminal misspellings. Also way up the league table are;

Lose – to misplace/not win vs. Loose – not tight . If I see it written as ‘they were very sorry to loose the game’ one more time I think I’ll loose the head…

Separate. Example ‘even though the couple decided not to separate, they still opted for separate beds at home’ i.e. the word ‘seperate’ does not exist. But it appears all the time. Including in this Sunday newspaper.

Also featured on a giant AIB billboard ad I saw once. Maybe they separated from their ad agency after that super-sized blooper.

Not that I am beyond a spelling mistake myself of course. I do spellcheck and re-read everything before sending, even texts and tweets (she’s got it bad, I hear you say). But some words trip me up, notably

Across – quite likely to spell it ‘accross’ because I somehow mix it up with the spelling of Address.

Specially/especially – Can never, ever remember which is used when and can’t even tell you now the difference between them. So shoot me!

But seriously. You have Spellcheck at your disposal. You have proofreaders (Me! Me!). You have ad agencies. There is no excuse – none – for incorrect spelling in business.

And of course if you find any bad spelling in this blogpost, do let me no…

　

　

Irish Fans – from Sotcher to Poznan

‘It’s not the destination that counts, it’s the journey’.

If this is ever true, it certainly applies to Euro 2012. The sights, sounds and news stories of Paddy making his way to Poznan are already the stuff of legend. Unlike USA’ 94 and Saipan (everyone flew, everyone stayed in a hotel) we are back to the epic travel arrangements of the Stuttgart and Italia 90 era. Buses, trains, automobiles deployed, camper vans commandeered, even bicycles are being pedalled. Seamus is staying on his Polish colleague’s couch, Mick is staying with his Polish girlfriend’s mother. The interviews from the campsites, with tents and tenants already in various states of disarray, tell their own tale. The Irish fans are of course already having an epic time, as only they know how.

I was lucky enough to travel to USA ‘94. The current build up and nostalgia coverage brings all the great memories flooding back. Some highlights;

• Spotting all the Irish fans in our little Bord Failte-issue tshirts. They actually gave one to every person travelling. This was fairly much pre ‘sponsored jerseys’ era, so they worked a treat. We waved at each other across 5^thAvenue, in Wall St, on the Staten Island ferry. Cute. I still have mine in fact.
  

  Been there, wore the T shirt…

• Being (along with my sister) among the tiny minority of Irish female supporters. It actually conferred an almost celebrity status. Ahem. (what goes on tour stays on tour….)
• Having to explain the World Cup to the Americans. Fielding questions like;

‘What are all you Irish doing here?’ (see Tshirt note above)

‘Is it a Cup for girls?’ (because we were girls)

‘Is sotcher (yes!) popular in your country?’

and getting comments like ‘enjoy your Cup’.

They didn’t get it, didn’t follow it, saw it as nothing to do with them. Anyway, they were all too busy watching a live car chase involving some guy called OJ Simpson. Which we didn’t get or follow. Horses for courses you could say.

• Jumping into a taxi driven by one of the myriad non- conversational, non-American drivers. Five minutes into the journey – spotting our aforementioned Tshirts – he pipes up ‘Is McGrath playing tomorrow?!’, before regaling us with his Jimmy Magee-esque knowledge of his own team – Nigeria – and every other one competing. Brilliant. And the exception that proves the rule.
• Arriving out on the very top tier of the Giants Stadium, for the very first glimpse of USA ‘94. I was dumbstruck. A magnificent, sweeping arena, a pantheon view and a quite unbelievable sea of green, white and gold. I’ll never forget it.
• Taking our seats only to meet, in the very next pew, a one- time next door neighbour who had moved away 10 years previously. What are the chances?
• Being behind those goals, for that goal, from that man Ray Houghton, in the 11^th minute. Just magical.
• The aforementioned neighbour, going to the loo in the 10^th minute – and returning in the 12^th. All that planning. All that travel. All that cash. What are the chances?
• Meeting shell shocked, crying, Italian fans afterwards, magnanimously saying we deserved the win.
• Deciding I was definitely coherent enough to be interviewed live by 98fm in a Manhattan pub… Oops.
• Asking a random New Yorker to take our photo on the ferry in front of the Statue of Liberty. And bumping into him 4 days later in Central Park. 8 million inhabitants. What are the chances?
• 　Recognising Davy from The SawDoctors in the row in front of us at the Mexico game. Only for the chap beside me to chime in, slightly sourly, that he was also a SawDoctor. Oops. I didn’t remember his name then. Or now.
  

  Do you know his brother?

• Being totally outnumbered by, and yet totally outsinging the Dutch fans every single night in Church St, Orlando. If ‘Put ‘em under Pressure’ was sang once, it was sang 1000 times…
• And finally – telling other Irish fans that we had just met Phil Babb’s brother…… Donnacha. The real amusement was the varying amounts of time it took for the penny to drop…

The best sporting/holiday experience I have ever had – and am probably ever likely to have.

20,000 Irish fans are just kicking off their own Odyssey about now. I’d give anything to be there. Enjoy every green, white and golden minute, lads.

And C’mon Ireland!

It’s Racism – and Nothing Casual About it

So certain taxi drivers may – or may not – be using green roof signs to display their ‘Irishness’. More shocking than this story is surely some of the on-line comments and reaction in support of this notion.

See The Journal (who broke the story) as an example. http://www.thejournal.ie/poll-should-taxis-be-allowed-to-display-signs-of-irishness-451438-May2012/

Not just trolling, but people happy to give their full name and photo beside their opinions. The story regarding Counsellor Darren ‘I won’t represent aggressive black people’ Scully produced some similar, worrying responses.

But should we even be that shocked? Is so called ‘casual’ racism now accepted in Irish society?

I offer you the following statements I have personally heard. All are from people I am personally aquainted with, to a greater or lesser degree. Some were said directly to me, others happened to fall upon my unfortunate ears from within wider conversations…

“The black nurses are all very lazy”

“That school is ‘over-run’ with black kids”

“He was a foreign doctor – but still very nice”

“I just don’t like black people”

“I’m raging. My next door neighbour is after renting her house out to a load of blacks”

“I don’t walk down to those shops anymore. There’s always black teenagers hanging around”.

　

Now I don’t think I have grown up/worked among/ socialised in particularly conservative/right wing/xenophobic circles. Regular Joe and Josephine soaps all.

One or two of these wild generalizations could even be construed as mildly amusing. If they weren’t so serious. And racist.

And that’s the thing. Most of the people above would in all likelihood be aghast at the term racist. They would probably preface their utterances with the classic ‘I’m not racist but…’

But they are racist. No buts. And nothing casual about it. Simple as.

Worrying isn‘t it?

Oh, and for the record – one of the quotes above was from….. a taxi driver.

Garlic Tax Evasion? – that explains things…

So – who knew that the tax on garlic importation was so high?

The jailing yesterday of Irish importer Paul Begley, for evading €1.6million in tax (by declaring Chinese garlic as apples) has caused quite a stir.  But possibly due to the lenght of his sentence (6 years), when compared to that of the banking fraudsters of this parish (0 years)…

It also reminded me of this….

Below is an extract from a query I sent to a consumer radio slot, way back in 2007.

‘ Shopping in Dunnes Stores last week, I picked up a net of garlic. Unpacking later, I noticed that for 99 cent I got 10 bulbs in the net, including 33% extra free, and they were imported from China. I thought this figure had to be a mistake. I rang the store in question who said the price was correct and that is was an offer. Bear in mind – their single bulbs are priced at 44c and are imported from Spain.

I appreciate that bulk buys are cheaper, but how could Dunnes, or anyone in this supply chain possibly make any profit on this. Bearing in mind you have a grower, picker – all the way back in China – exporter, shipping costs, distribution and God knows who else involved.

Wouldn’t it be a really eye-opening exercise to trace back the journey of these humble garlics and see who got what out of their purchase by me. Something tells me the Chinese workers are not dining out on it anyway. And how could it possibly be cheaper to import these from China than those from Spain or elsewhere in Europe’

Does the tax evasion relevation explain why this Chinese import was sold so cheaply??

Water, water everywhere…

Came across a thought provoking website lately. It displays live, updating numbers of world statistics.

(No link yet, dear reader, don’t want you navigating away too soon now, do we)

For example, the number of births in the world this year, numbers of emails sent today, number of cigarettes smoked today (12.8 billion, if you’re interested).

In amongst the rolling meters, this stop-me-in-my-tracks number leapt off the screen;

833,641,222

(people in the world with no safe drinking water source)

I could not stop thinking about that number.

833 million people.

Approx 8% of the world’s population.

Trying to exist without direct access to life’s most essential resource.

Then I starting ruminating on how lucky the (vast, vast) majority of our population of 4.5million are, with fresh, clean water on tap 24/7 in our homes. For free (currently at least).

My final thought process led me to consider the number of these fortunate Irish people, and in the Western World generally, who buy bottled water.

I don’t buy water. Cannot countenance paying for something I can get for free. It’s like buying fresh air.

The idea of someone leaving their tap-filled house, stopping at a shop and handing over cash for water, quite baffles me.

I tried to write a list of reasons why people buy water. Not being a purchaser myself I might not get it right, but here goes;

• I don’t like the taste/look/smell of my tap water
• I’m against the flouride that’s in Irish tap water
• I think the mineral content of bottled water makes it healthier than tap
• It’s handy for the office/gym/bus
• It’s better than buying sugar laden soft drinks
• It’s a useful way to measure my daily intake
• It looks kinda cool

If some or any of these reasons are yours, then that’s fine. But my challenge is this;

Imagine yourself standing in front of a family or community with no safe running water. Perhaps a group within the tented community of 250,000 people still on Haiti’s earthquake torn streets. Or a village of families in Kenya having long awaited wells currently sunk by Trocaire.

First outline to them the situation regarding water in your own home.

Then explain why you buy it.

833,000,000 people.

Check it out at http://www.worldmeters.info.

And cherish your H2O. I’d drink (tap water) to that.

Thank you.