You are my sister, we were born
So innocent, so full of need
There were times we were friends but times I was so cruel
Each night I'd ask for you to watch me as I sleep
I was so afraid of the night
You seemed to move through the places that I feared
You lived inside my world so softly
Protected only by the kindness of your nature
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
We felt so differently then
So similar over the years
The way we laugh the way we experience pain
So many memories
But theres nothing left to gain from remembering
Faces and worlds that no one else will ever know
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
I want this for you
They're gonna come true (gonna come true)
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Posted by Willie_W at 12:03 am
Saturday, July 28, 2007
"You never play Lotto," Herself tells me, as if I hadn't noticed not throwing away €312 a year.
"No, I don't."
"You should play it today."
"Why's that then?"
"It's over sixteen million Euro. We could win."
"You have a ticket don't you?"
"Yes. But I'm not lucky with things like that. You are."
"How do you figure that one?"
"Well, because you don't play, you'd probably win."
I think this over. She says:
"You could walk up to the shop now and buy a Quick Pick."
"How much is it to play?"
"Naw. I can't really afford three Euro."
"But it's sixteen million Euro! Look! I'll drive you up. It'll only take a minute."
"No, you're all right."
The Lotto grand prize has apparently rolled over -- not been won -- eleven times in a row, making it a record-breaking €16,185,749 prize tonight. The news reported that two million people bought tickets for tonight's draw. A single ticket in the south of the country was the one with the winning numbers.
The best I could have won would have only been €8,092,874 anyway.
Not really tempting, is it?
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Herself thinks that putting on the feathers is just too much. I don't think so. Although the giant "worm" made from a discarded vacuum cleaner-hose and painted reddish might be taking things a little far.
But such is the level to which I have been reduced, wearing a dark-coloured boa and flapping about in snorkeling flippers in my back yard, competing in avian psychology with a savage blackbird which has been terrorising the neighbourhood for the past two weeks.
It started innocently enough with Herself and myself "Oooh"-ing and "Aaah"-ing at the lovely trills and warbles from last year's incumbent in the blackbird territory which appears to extend from the bottom of our road -- three or four back gardens in length -- to the top -- maybe another ten or twelve gardens' worth in the other direction. Last year's cock of the walk was a handsome chappy that battled it out in song with his near neighbours.
This year a new pretender has muscled in. And it isn't only other blackbirds which are considered enemies and intruders.
I thought the cats would naturally be a cause of the incessant "Shreep! Shreep! Shreep!" bird alarm calls, but then I realised the cats were inside the house and the only one around was me, minding my own business in a white, plastic garden chair in the rare patch of sunlight.
"Shreep! Shreep! Shreep! Shreep! Shreep!" the bugger says. And not only that: he flies up to the roof of the house in his Shreeping, then down to the wall, then onto the shed roof. On the shed, he ruffs up his tail feathers and makes a mock charge at me, holding his wings up suddenly to make a threatening flurry.
"That only works on other blackbirds, stupid," I said to him. But he kept right on Shreeping. It was getting on my nerves, setting my broken teeth on the last of their edges.
At one point, our tabby cat arrived outside to survey the scene. She watched him go from shed to house to wall to shed to house to wall again. The evil little puss waited until he had gone out of sight then nonchalantly placed herself in ambush on a piece of junk lying up against the wall.
"Swish!" went her claws as he landed briefly on the uppermost concrete block. He dodged easily. But no. He didn't fly away in fear, as might be expected of a reasonable blackbird. He took up position on top of the shed roof and added a "Chuck! Chuck!" to the "Shreep! Shreep! Shreep!" for a while.
The cats are bemused. His strategy is working, because they have generally made it known that they are less comfortable in the back garden during the day than before. Myself, I tend to stay indoors and close the double-glazed windows so I can't hear him. When he doesn't have me to bully, he Shreeps at wood pigeons and women hanging washing.
I have heard him from inside our kitchen and walked boldly outside clapping my hands loudly. This has some effect -- maybe because it has an auditory component that the little fecker understands -- because he ducks over the perimeter into another garden out of reach and "Shreeps!" at me from a safe distance. But it's only a temporary respite. I need to show him who the boss is.
So in the end I find myself in the black boa and the flippers, clutching a giant fake worm. If he wants to be top of the pecking order around here he's in for a disappointment. I can strut better than him, and catch bigger worms, and flap bigger wings. Just watch me, little birdy!
Herself has gone to watch the television news.
She says she's not answering the door to any more policemen.
Friday, July 13, 2007
"Four years," the taxi driver says to me, holding up four Sri Lankan fingers. "Four years I worked for Domino's Pizza. I was top driver. I know all the local places."
I had mildly wondered to myself when he was going to ask me where exactly he was bringing me. I had told him the address when we started out.... about ten Euro ago.... and he had repeated it before setting off in the right direction. I supposed that like other taxi drivers he would know where Firhouse was, then ask me where the destination was nearer to home. But no. He knew it already.
"I have friends in all the stations," he said. "Stations"appeared to mean Domino's Pizza shops. I didn't know whether this was the official Domino's term or the Sri Lankan equivalent. My African neighbour complimented me once on tidying up my compound, which I found out meant my garden. Perhaps there was something of this going on.
"I got a fare once," my driver remarked. "He sat right there in the front..." He slapped the front passenger seat, in case I thought the passenger had been sitting on the driver's lap. "And he was amazed that I knew where Cill Cais was. Four years in Domino's Pizza."
He held up the same four fingers and peered at me over his shoulder and a pair of small, square-rimmed glasses. We were stuck in the same immobile traffic I would be stuck in had I not missed the bus by a whisker. With the tip, it cost me the best part of €20 to get home from The Square.
"I'm walking," I announced the next afternoon in work. "There is no way I'm spending another hour and a quarter on a bus journey, or paying €20 for a taxi."
So I found myself in a lather of sweat on the Old Bawn Road at half-past five -- empty buses passing by in the scant traffic (of course!) -- yesterday evening, marching determinedly home. At Killakee I took a shortcut that added ten minutes to the journey. I ended up crossing through the field opposite the house, knuckles dragging through the freshly cut grass, thankful that the front door wasn't another ten yards away because I probably wouldn't have made it.
"Hello, Black Cat," I gasped at himself, and he sitting upright on the garden wall.
Black Cat looked at me in terror. Who was this brow-drenched, purple faced person shambling ominously towards him from this unexpected direction? How did the terrible monster speak with the food monkey's voice? How did the monster's tongue loll out of its mouth so far? Black Cat flattened himself on the wall so only his ears and ever-widening eyes looked over the gate. Then as the stranger showed no signs of turning from his vaguely zig-zagging course towards the front door, Black Cat's nerve went entirely and he fled.
I sat for twenty minutes in an armchair without saying a word. Eventually, the red mist before my eyes lifted. In time -- a long time -- I could move one of my feet.
I hate commuting.
Tonight, I announced I may buy a bicycle.
The cat will only love that one...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
"I don't remember a Summer being this gloomy," Herself says. She is speaking about the weather, which showed definite promise in April when we got sunburn and optimism, but which, ever since, it seems, has dissolved into incessent rain and grey, grey cloud.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Quite a few visitors have been finding the Blog by searching for "B&Q Gazebo instructions", so I thought I would post the actual instructions for erecting the gazebo here. I hope they are of help to you.
These instructions are for the "Deluxe Gazebo" which comes in either green or in cream. As mine has been put up and taken down a few times, the parts do not look like new and you'll see an odd scrape or piece of rust in my pictures that shouldn't be on your new parts.
The roof bars (or rafters, if you prefer) and legs are made of tubular mild steel and when first packaged come in coloured bags so that you can easily select the correct one for assembly. If you are like me, however, over time you will probably lose the bags, or stuff everything into one bag, mix them up, or generally succumb to human nature and not bother to sort out the pieces before you store the disassembled gazebo for the winter.
2A = A fat pole with a "male" end on each end of the pipe. It is the only type of pipe with this configuration.
3 = a fat pole with a "male" end and a "female" end, a bigger diameter verson of Part 1A.
You should find four plastic parts which look like these. These are the parts with the sockets into which the roof bars fit before they are joined into the tops of the legs. You will notice that three of the sockets in each piece are narrow diameter. One of the sockets in each piece is a larger diameter.
If you turn these parts over, you will see that three of the sockets are embossed with the numbers "2", "1" & "2".
Next, insert a 2A pipe into the end of the Part 2 pipe that you earlier attached to the corner. The idea is to lengthen the pipes to double their previous length. Repeat for the other Part 2 pipe. Insert a 1A pipe into the Part 1 pipe. The result looks like the picture to the left.
You should now have a reasonably secure pyramid like the photo.
Well, that's it! If you have and questions or comments, please add them in the Comments section.