Someone more talented then I said, after she started blogging, that a posting should never take more then an hour. This gave me the impression that she would break away from her article or book and exercise her imagination on the blog. Sorta like John Steinbeck did when writing the Grapes of Wrath , warming up on one page of the script before he started his day’s work on the other side. ( His secretary kept these musings, and then turned them into “Diary of a novel” when John croaked it.) So the talented ones are able to express themselves coherently, even when they’re warming up, and reserve the good stuff for works of importance. Won’t be me, this is as important as I get and I can rant and rave with the best of them, but only for so long. My indignation runs out quickly and then I’m left a bit depressed.
Shannon -> Heathrow.
The Shannon thing at the moment is annoying me though, cause I really couldn’t give a flying fuck if they pulled out altogether. At lunch I was chastised for saying this because I didn’t and don’t know the fuller implications employment wise . But it looks to me that Shannon has always been difficult to get to i.e. another flight away for anyone coming in from anywhere other then Boston or New York. So now it’s possibly two more flights always, so what !( Could be a beano for the hotels though, what with the additional over-nights) They don’t pull cargo on the route, so there. And now everyone’s bitching, cause that’s what we like doing, bitching.
No quibble either with the gift of the Fenian slots to Belfast, best of luck with them. What I am intrigued with is with the packaging of the gift . To me this is the kernel of the issue. Why not one slot each gifted from Dublin, Cork and Limerick . Why shut down Shannon. Doesn’t make a lot of sense and comes across mean and deliberate. As usual, it’s not so much what we do but the way that we do it, which pisses people off. The gift of a hub from south to north is generous and rightly so if we are to fully participate in the normalisation of the wee problem above. Christ, look at what West Germany had to do when the wall came down. They’re only now getting back on their feet. So yes, let’s get the Belfast hub up and running and running very fast with the juicy civil service revenues between Stormont and Westminster too. But for the love and honour of Jesus Christ , don’t shut Shannon down when you have other options .
Rugby, world-cup, bolox, you can’t have a world cup unless Brazil are playing. ( Tom Humphries said this, bless him) Anyway the Namibian and Georgian matches are sold out ! Who the fuck is going to them ? I watch the AIL weekly and the Munster thing when I can get tickets, and I don’t know one punter who’s going to France. So who’d going ? I’ll tell you who’s going, a collection of D4 fancy coats and fuckable frocks, that’s who. No average punters. Shower of Ryle Nugent shits who won’t know the difference between the shooting fish in a barrel exercise ( Namibia and Georgia ) and the French and Argentinean affairs.
Her indoors is struggling to get back onto the treadmill. When she struggles, I do, we all do ( You do to, what’s that about the tree that falls in the the Forrest and it’s global effect ) Anyway, all I wanted to know was “who was cooking the kid’s dinner”…. Global thermo fucking nuclear war. I overheated, tripped over her incoming sister and raced bare-chested to the car, forgot to fill the faulty radiator, committed five acts of road-rage, then pulled steaming into a service station 10 miles out the road, everything boiling up a storm . Bastard, bastard, bastard . And then I couldn’t get through to the house phone for over two hours, engaged by daughter’s complexity and eventually told, “it was ten minutes only and why are you biting my head off.” ” Turn on the spuds at 5 will you ” , Bastard .
I’ll explain the title another time, apologies