Goodbye Grey Hair and Grey Skies – Ireland Shimmers

Well what a fabulous day I am having.  Here is Ireland, in the GRIPS of an actual HEATWAVE – no joke, it’s been 25 all week and sunny, with maybe six clouds over the last few days in total.  And allegedly, according to our unreliable weather service, it is set to continue hurray!!!  Excellent news if this lasts through to next weekend as the Dublin Gaelic Football Team have their first championship match, which will be attended by moi, Lilsister, Scarydancer, Papabear and Papabear’s mad friend, who hates anyone born outside Dublin.  Whether we win or lose we will live it up afterwards in Baggot Street at a proper boozer, and Papabear will sing songs, and Dublinlover will shed tears and tell stories about different times he beat up non Dubliners after football matches.  Gaelic culture lives!!!

As I type this, Ireland has just scored a goal!!!!  Yes, our Irish playered soccer team, playing in the full rays of the sun in Dublin, has just scored against Bosnia – GO IRELAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Mr Long, we salute, and adore you. xxx

So I had my fruit and museli for breakfast, and had every intention of going out for a morning constitutional, even though I was dreading it (the face being quite easily burnt, even though I have had to purchase Factor 50 sunblock – could I BE any more Irish?).  Luckily, Lilsister came into my boudoir for hugs, and this delayed me somewhat, and then she talked me out of walking in this heat, so I popped to the shops instead for breakfast goodies, arriving back to cook my amazing scrambled eggs and inhale tea.

Afterwards, we headed up to Mammy, to take advantage of her sunny back garden, and catch some rays whilst the soccer blares from the tv in the front room.  We swopped health tips with the visiting window cleaner, who has given up dairy due to being lactose intolerant, and stopped mammy from giving him chocolate icecream because eh, he’s lactose intolerant, and chocolate and icecream contain much lactose, sorry.  Don’t worry though – Lilsister and I suffer from no such ailment, and happily munched on the lactose-levied sweets.  Yum!

I’ve also had Lilsister touch up my grey hairs with the hair dye whilst lounging in the backgarden, and then do my toenail painting for me after she saw how awful I am at doing it myself.  I used to get pedicures but this was before I got a job that paid just enough to eat breadrolls and nothing else all day.  Afterwards, Mammy did our tarot cards and stand up comedy came up AGAIN, so really it has been a busy day at the back garden salon.  Ah, summer in Ireland – you can keep your Italian Riverias and your Spanish coastlines – when the sun comes out in Ireland, and one half of the country retreat to their own backyards for barbeques, beers and beauty treatments, you are truly in the best country in the world.  Avoid us at your peril travellers!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously? contd…

”I’m ringing from a tractor will you tell Brian I won’t make it in time for the meeting.”

I don’t know the relevance of the tractor either, and never did figure out who that Brian fella was.

Seriously? contd…

Ring ring and the clown answers.

‘’What does this letter mean?’’

‘’I can’t see it sir, as this is a telephone call.  Can you read it out to me?’’  (Turns out it’s a statement.)

‘’It’s a statement, sir.’’

‘’I went to a National School you know.’’


‘’So this is rubbish.’’

‘’Thanks for your call.’’

Seriously? SERIOUSLY???

Me:  ’’That’s an outgoing payment.’’

Her:  ‘’What does that mean?’’

”It means the money is going out.”

”No it’s coming in.”

”No its going out.  See it’s in the debit column (she is looking at her statement online).”

”I’ll ring back when I figure it out.”

Another Completely Shit Day at Work

Came in.

My desk was moved while I was out.  Go to new desk.  Log into computer.

  1. I have lost all the systems I work with.
  2. Call helpdesk.  Approx 30 mins to get sorted, including email, which Ive lost.
  3. Finish with helpdesk.  Mouse stops working.  Unplug, replug, light comes on, no joy.
  4. Call ex team leader over.  Get new mouse.  Not working.
  5. Ex team leader is missing.  Ask another team leader for help.  She unplugs the keyboard and the mouse and cant get either plugged back in.  I replug it all.  A third team leader advises to shut down the whole computer.
  6. I do this, and find that the mouse and the keyboard is no longer working.  I plug, unplug and plug again.
  7. I am moved to another desk.  I have no systems – I call the helpdesk.
  8. 30 mins later I am ready to start again.
  9. I now have no internet access, meaning I cannot use our internal call log systems to transfer calls, send messages or order statements.
  10. I am ready to go home, and tell the helpdesk bloke the same thing. 
  11. The helpdesk computer crashes.
I have eaten a LOT today.

Puffed to a Crisp

Earlier this evening I was lucky enough to catch Lilsister laughing at what, I didn’t know.  ”What are you laughing at,” I unwisely ventured, only to be told that she was laughing at me, because my life is a joke.  Wonderful.

My running is continuing well, thank you for asking, and I am nearly up to a good twenty second jaunt, which makes me feel fabulous and fit.  I also got burnt yesterday in the raging morning sun, I think the rays penetrated my factor 30 spf cream and I feel dry, crispy and old.  Ireland is experiencing another little heatwave, with soaring temperatures of 15 degrees yesterday – sure how could I NOT get burnt to an elderly crisp?

Needless to say on my way home today I stopped at the chemist and purchased Factor 50.  I did not run – it was too hot at an alleged 19 degrees.  What is this, Qatar???!?

Work is hideous, naturally, and only the sweet non-rememberance of alcohol consumption gets me through the nights, not that I can have any during weeknights, as if I was to come into work hungover the customers would literally eat me alive, which they attempt to do on an hourly basis, and which I have so far, been strong enough to resist.  Having said that, I have inbibed a little prosecco this evening before tapping this entry out, purely for sleeping purposes, as I have had difficulty sleeping the last week, being filled with bubbling rage most nights.  Right now I feel mellow and ready to snooze – ah drink, you blessed friend of the stressed.

Speaking of alcohol, I was able to partake of a little over the weekend, with Friday night drinks with Sisinlaw and Lilsister, and then Saturday night beers with Lilsister at an alleged comedy club in the city, which cost a fortune to enter, had flat pints and a comedian that looked EXACTLY like Robert de Niro in Taxi, making the whole night quite unsettling.   They also stamped my hand on the way in after being fleeced with the entry cost, and even today, I can still see the magic word on my hand – ”Puff”.  EXCUSE ME?  What does this signify?  Except that it is strangely resistant to several showers and scrubbing  brushes?

So with my snoozy boozy drink, I depart and seek my bed, in the hope that tonight I sleep, and forget the unfunny joke that is my life now.  Sigh…


Drip Stops Me Driving

Driving to my awful job, I go down the back roads through a deserted carpark to cut my commute down.
I drive into the car park, follow the arrows around, then down an aisle to where my car park is on the left.  Unfortunately, when I come out of the aisle the only option is to drive right, and drive back round where I came from so I go left – the carpark is empty and it’s perfectly safe.
But no – I can’t – a bright green BLOB is blocking my way.  I turn down my Script cd, push the sunglasses onto the head, roll down the window (making sure the doors are locked) and in my poshest voice query with the blob what the problem is.
”The arrow yokes,” he dribbles ”they’re pointing this way and you’re driving that way.”
In my best ”addressing a servant” voice, I explain that the carpark is empty and I’m not hurting anyone.
”The arrows,” he keeps mumbling.
”I’m trying to get to work,” I declare in my move-out-of-the-way-you-ruffian voice.
”Arrows,” says greenie.
I turn the wheel quickly, screech out of his way, drive back down the wrong way, take a left at the next aisle and as I descend into my carpark and receive the death stares, to which I reply with a big smile and a thumbs up.  Suck on this sackboy!!!