Archive for January, 2007

To times past, and to the future

Grandad January 31st, 2007

This is a personal page and you can skip it if you like.

But I’m going to write it anyway, because it’s my site and I can do what I like.

It all started on this day 32 years ago, before most of you were even born.

He was a bashful bloke who enjoyed a pint and a singsong. She was a beautiful girl who worked in the same building.

He never had the nerve to ask her out because he didn’t have the confidence, and she didn’t seem to notice he existed anyway.

One evening someone was having a leaving-do down the pub, so the office was there in strength. He had his guitar out as usual, and there was a good singsong going. Next thing, he realised She was sitting next to him.. Of course the ol’ Guinness gave him Dutch courage and he chatted her up. They got on well.

One year later [to the day] they got married.

It wasn’t one of those modern weddings that costs as much as a small house. It was a country wedding. In the snow. And they all went to the hotel after and had a great meal and a singsong. People still talk about that wedding, and how it was one of the best they’d ever attended.

The couple soon bought a house and it took every penny they had. But they were happy.

Then a baby came along and they were even happier.

She left work to look after the baby, so they literally didn’t have two pennies to rub together. But they managed somehow, and they were even happier.

Years later, the baby had grown into a teenager. That was the start of the bad years.

Teenagers cost a lot, and the couple still didn’t have much so it was a struggle.

And teenagers cause a lot of grief. So times were hard. But they stuck with it, because they loved each other and they loved their daughter. Even if she did act like the child from hell.

But they got through all that in the end. The daughter grew up into a beautiful kind caring woman, and the child from hell was just a bad dream.

The years have passed. The daughter has left home and has two children of her own, but she calls to see them regularly.

They still don’t have much money because he is retired. But they own their own beautiful home and their needs are few so it doesn’t matter. They have everything they need.

The couple are no longer in love. They have gone much deeper than that. And they don’t talk much, because they know what each other is thinking. They are completely at peace with life.

So this is just a little note to Herself. Thank you for those wonderful 32 years. And here’s to the next 32.

Times past …. continued.

Grandad January 31st, 2007

A strange thing has happened.

I posted the article above before Herself got up.

She did not know I was going to post it.

She just gave me a card……

Card

Inside..

To Grandad,

Can’t remember your name.

Love ?? Granny. Can’t remember mine either.

Please stop reading my mind. It ruins the element of surprise!

Have a lovely day!

xx C [it begins with a C. Give me time]

By the way, who are you, and why are you living in my home rent free?

It sort of proves my point?

Is that weird or is that weird?

New virus on the Internet

Grandad January 30th, 2007

I was writing my post this morning in Wordpress.

You know the way it goes – you write, you spell check – you preview.

If you’re happy, you click “Publish”, and up it goes.

Now sometimes, it takes a few seconds for the page to actually go up onto the Internet.

This morning, the instant after I pressed the “Publish” button, I sneezed. Rather violently. And then my posting went up onto the Internet.

Now after I had cleaned down my screen, and wiped off my keyboard, it occurred to me that I must have infected my posting with the sneeze, so anyone who reads it will get my bug. And it’s too late to do anything about it.

I’m very sorry. I hope they don’t arrest me.

If it’s any help, aspirin works well, but a good stiff whiskey is the best.

kick it on kick.ie

Please hold the line for two weeks

Grandad January 30th, 2007

I just rang my broadband company again for the laugh.

I am supposed to be getting an upgrade to my service for the last while.

So I took a stiff shot of whiskey and phoned them.

Their phone system of course uses a Voice Processing Unit. Apparently that is what they call that bloody irritating “Press 1 for giblets, press 2 for knob rot” thingy that drive me mad

I pressed my buttons and waited.

A pleasant recorded voice tells me that due to the volume of calls, I should be answered within two minutes.

Ten minutes later, the phone is answered…

He said something that I couldn’t understand [my Swahili isn't that fluent], but I thought I heard something about a number. So I gave him my account number.

He rattled off my name and address, which I understood, and it was reassuring because it meant that that part of their system is working anyway.

“What is the nature of the problem?” says he.

“Nothing” says I. “I’m just phoning to see if there is any sign of my upgrade”.

This confused him a bit. He had a customer that didn’t have a problem, and that obviously didn’t appear on his screen prompting system.

He muttered something [I'm not sure if it was in Urdu or Hindustani] and started typing. I have never heard so much typing. Either I caught him in the middle of writing has autobiography, or else he was reprogramming the system to accept problems from people who don’t have a problem.

Then the phone went dead.

I waited, because I had nothing better to do. There was a long silence. Then suddenly he was back. Still typing.

“I’m sorry” says he, “Can I put you on hold?”

“No problem” says I, as I poured another whiskey.

They played the usual musak at me for a while, and then he came back.

“We are upgrading people in rotation. We have not done your area yet”

“I know that” says I, “but have you any idea when it might be done?”

“We estimate within two to three weeks” says he.

“I phoned on the first of October last year and I was told two to three weeks then” says I.

“We estimate within two to three weeks” says he.

I thanked him and hung up.

Two seconds later, I got an e-mail saying that a Support Ticket had been opened.

“Great” thinks I, “at least they have a record of my call”.

One second later I got an e-mail saying that my Support Ticket had been closed.

I’ll phone them again in May.

kick it on kick.ie

Test for citizens?

Grandad January 29th, 2007

It has been announced that the Government is proposing to introduce a test for immigrants to check their knowledge of Irish culture.

In our usual fashion, we at Head Rambles are able to break the latest on this.

At great risk to herself, Herself has managed to obtain some sample questions which we believe will appear on the final questionnaire.

The questions are given below and the answers in hidden form. We ask you not to peek at the answers until you have made a genuine attempt to answer correctly.

In what county is the Ring of Kerry? Kerry

What is Twink’s real name and what is her catchphrase? Adele King. “Zip up your mickey”

Explain the meaning of the following:

Up the pole? Preganant

Two sockets and no plug? Two lesbians

I will in me bollix? I would rather not if that’s all right with you

What is the difference between a duck? One of his legs is both the same

What is Mary Harney:

A picture of health? Are you joking?

Minister for Health? Supposed to be

How much does it cost to get land rezoned? Depends on the Minister or Counsellor to be bribed

Where did the Irish Football Team win the World Cup:

In Germany? No

In Italy? No

In their dreams? Yes

Why is a mouse when he spins? Because the higher he goes the fewer

Where is the best place in Ireland to buy drugs? Just about anywhere

Where in Dublin would you have found, or would find:

The Tart with the Cart? Grafton Street

Bertie’s Hole? Dublin Port Tunnel

The Time in the Slime? Millennium Clock in the Liffey

The Floozie in the Jacuzzi? O’Connell Street

How much does it cost to cross the Ha’penny Bridge ? Nothing

End of questions

In addition to the above, all applicants for entry to Ireland must have read the following classics of Irish literature:

“Ulysses” by James Joyce.

“P.S. I Love You” by Bertie Ahern’s daughter what’s-her-name.

“Peig” by Peig Sayers [in the original Irish, of course].

kick it on kick.ie

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