Showing posts from 2010

I just need to nothing for a minute...

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, with the kids jingle belling, and everyone telling you ‘have one more beer’, it’s the most indulgent, drunken, lazy, scurvy-inducing  time of the year.
So far I’ve had our pre-Christmas family get together meal, visited the Christmas market, had two work Christmas parties (all paid for by ourselves, so don't start!), had some pre-Christmas catch up lunches, dinners and drinks, with more planned before the day itself.
I am stuffed. Full of good food, good wine, junk food, bad vodka. Well good vodka, but you know... I love to be out, seeing people, talking, laughing, eating, drinking and all that stuff. It’s lovely to catch up with people you haven’t seen in a while, or even those you see all the time. The diary fills quickly, so popular, so in demand, so much fun.
However, I also need to ‘homeostasise’, which is not even a word.
According to Maslow we all have certain basic physiological needs in order to function as human beings. Among …

The snow, the budget and so on..

I haven’t written in days, because there’s nothing new or interesting on my mind. It’s all snow, the budget, Christmas, snow, the budget, ad nauseum..
I’ve discussed snow before, way back, when I could still see the positive side of it. Now, I’m done with the snow, absolutely over it. Sick of walking like a 90-year-old; scared of my life of falling. I’ve heard of two broken wrists and one broken hip, the latter belonging to a 29-year-old man. What chance do I have two years his senior?
As for the budget, I’m trying my best to ignore it. I’d like for someone to divide it up for me, into ‘affects you’, ‘interesting to note’ and ‘doesn’t matter a tuppenny damn’, but I still doubt I'd read it. 
I walked past the Dáil the other day, budget day, on my way to the National Gallery, whistling Christmas carols! Garda vans, news vans, photographers and protestors, all ignored in my Christmassy head.
And so this is Christmas, and what have I done? Very little I fear with 16 days to g…

It's a love hate thing..

I love the snow. I also hate the snow.
It's pretty, a bit special, and romantic. I love watching it fall, seeing it cover roofs, trees and railings in that marshmallowy blanket. Walking along, holding hands, or alone, looking up, watching it fall, catching it on your tongue.
It reminds me of being a child. I don't know how much it snowed when I was a child but I feel I remember every second of it and every winter was white. Snowmen, snowballs, slush balls, freezing cold, wet hands, sodden gloves.
It brings out the best in people, helping each other, bringing people together. 'Shared shrugs and smiles, and helping hands and shoulders' as one friend put it. Conversations between strangers as they become walking buddies, neither able to make any distance from the other. Talking to a lady on the bus, who came into town to get some messages and enjoys the long journey home, for the company.
It brings out the worst in people, shoving, pushing, hurrying, worrying. Must get past,…


I didn't know my Granddad growing up. He was there, walking around, cap in hand, or sitting in his chair, but I didn't know him. My mother told me that he was always talking and playing with them when they were children. I couldn't believe it.

When my cousin was born almost 18 years ago, when I was 13, my Granddad came back to life. A child around the house again stirred him out of his quiet. I continued to ignore him. I had no memories of him speaking to me kindly or bouncing me on his knee, so why should I bother I thought?

When my Granny got sick 13 years ago, when I was 18, he would get up before her, make tea and bring it to her in bed. He'd light the fire and feed the animals and other jobs she used to do. I didn't come down, I couldn't bear to see her that way, weak and without her hair.

Over the years he softened and so did I. I grew up and realised a number of things. That my teenage angst had gotten in the way of me knowing this man, my mother's fath…

Feel sorry for a banker?

The previous head of my department used to preface delivering bad news by saying ‘the good news is we’re getting paid this month’ as if this was enough. Another personal favourite is ‘aren’t you lucky to have a job’ and yes, I am. I am very aware and glad of that. 
I’m also lucky that I don’t have any major commitments, bar keeping a roof above my head, clothes on my back and, one that is very important to me, not starving. I’ve no mouths to feed, no debt that can’t be wiped with either savings or selling back what they paid for. So, all in all, I’m in a good position. Aren’t I lucky?
However, I [insert favoured expletive here] HATE my job at the moment! Even my manager agrees that no one really sets out to be a banker, it just happens. So when you realise that it’s absolutely, positively, not what you want to do with your life in the middle of a recession caused by people higher up and better paid in the very industry you work in, what do you do?
Many people blame ‘The Ba…

I have rhino monkey disease

Over the last couple of weeks I've been sick, which is fair enough you say, it's the time of year, the change of weather and so on. However, the mixture of symptoms has been just odd.
Last Sunday, going into Monday I had an earache, which at first I assumed was just a reaction to going back to work after a good weekend. 
I woke up on Tuesday morning, at 6am, feeling tummy sick. For the next few days the earache and nausea continued, leaving me thinking 'but they don't go!'.
Then on Sunday evening, just gone, I was sitting watching TV in my folks' after a roast dinner and all of a sudden there was a disco in my left eye. A spiky circle of flashing light, with some colouredy bits. Techno techno. There it was, a migraine. So I took off to a dark room and an early night. 
Woke up yesterday morning and the migraine appeared to be gone, only to be replaced by a very sore and swollen throat! Ok, I thought, I'd rather the sore throat than the migraine. It hung around i…

The adventures of Ms Talks-A-Lot and Slurpy McNoseblower

I have worked with many people over the years who I would quite happily throw out the window if my life was a cartoon, which unfortunately it is not.
Two of these people stick out, who I’m sure everyone can relate to. If you look around the office and you don’t know who this person is, it’s you.
First, we'll meet Ms Talks-A-Lot...
You know what she had for dinner last night, what she did for the weekend, what she’s doing next weekend, what she’s wearing to her friend’s wedding, where she went on holidays, where she’s going on holidays, what her other half does for a living, what days he plays football, what her kids are getting from Santa, what colour she’s painting the spare room, what carpet she’s getting for the hall, stairs and landing, what she had for breakfast, what diet she’s on this week, all about her health issues, what she thinks of Cheryl Cole, Colleen Rooney, Desperate Housewives and every other television programme known to woman.
She knows you work in the…

There’s nothing worse

I work with a guy, who no matter what you say is wrong with you (including, today, having ‘The Fields of Athenry’ stuck in your head) says ‘there’s nothing worse’.
So leaving broken limbs and falling off heads aside, here’s a countdown of my current top ten of ‘there’s nothing worse’.
10. Having a song stuck in your head – This really depends on the song and what you associate with it. If it’s a four word loop of something by the Cheeky Girls, Whigfield or, to be more current, Jedward, then that’s seriously head wrecking. However, if it’s a song that reminds you of something or someone good or if it’s along the lines of ‘We Are the Champions’ then it’s fantastic!
9. Getting to the phone as it stops ringing – This is made worse when you then go to call the person straight back and you can’t get them because they’re leaving you a voicemail, are ringing someone else or have just dropped the phone and ran away, as some stand up comedian once said. 
8. Banged knee – I used to wo…

Fally down socks

There’s nothing worse than fally down socks. Ok, so there are actually lots of things worse, but for the purposes of today’s discussion there isn’t.
I don’t know what causes fally down socks, but they are such a pain and so random. You buy a packet of socks in a packet of three and the pair with the pink toes and heels falls down, but the plain pair and the blue toes and heels ones are fine. Sometimes it’s just one of the pair and it seems not to matter which foot it’s on, left or right, it’ll still slip down under your shoe and bunch up under your instep.
I think they’re worse on rainy days too, somehow affected by the damp? Making them swell or soften or something, to make them extra fally. Also, they’re worse on rainy days because you can’t put your bag on the ground while pulling them up or you have an umbrella to manoeuvre as you do so and you end up poking yourself in the eye or someone else in the behind.
You always mean to throw them out too, but you can’t bring you…

Stupidly happy floaty day

Do you ever have one of those days where the grass seems greener and the flowers are smiling up at you? Sometimes there's a reason, sometimes there's not, but you just feel good. You walk tall, you smile at strangers, you chat to shop assistants and apologise profusely to anyone you bump into because you didn't see them as you floated along.
Those days are so much better than the other days. On the other days I'd hate to meet stupidly happy floaty me. Walking along, head in the clouds, banging into people with her big happy head on her!

The accidental banker

I didn’t want my first proper blog to be about work, but sometimes life doesn’t turn out how you plan, which is sort of what this blog is about. Stupid, annoying irony!
I’m 31 years of age and I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. When I was actually growing up I wanted to be a shopkeeper, so I could eat all the strawberry jam; a doctor, choosing biology and chemistry for the Leaving to assist; a psychologist, but my uncle convinced me there was no money in it; a teacher.
After two years (both first year mind) studying French and Irish, the teaching idea long forgotten, I changed course and decided on a degree in Business Studies.
During college I got a part time job, as you do, which involved telephones, typing, numbing of mind, having a laugh, going to the pub and generally flittering away my brain cells and whatever I was paid for my 16 hours a week.
Then suddenly, college was over and I was going to have to get a real job. I figured September or October would be a good…

and so it was..

I could tell my life story, though even the interesting parts aren't that interesting. I'm sure I'll get to them eventually anyway.
I could explain where 'shiny' came from or why this blog was going to be called 'monkey chicken', but I can't exactly remember.
I could tell you what I had for dinner, as food will no doubt feature often.
Really, it doesn't matter, no one is reading. At least not yet.
Where do I go from here?