Archive for the 'Times past' Category

The times we live in

Grandad March 19th, 2008

I watched the news last night, which is a rarity.

One of the big stories of the day was the Heather Mills business.

Here we have a case where a woman is awarded £24.3m in a divorce settlement and is complaining.  She has been given more money than anyone else will see in their entire lifetime.  It’s not enough.  One of her complaints was that the child’s allowance would force the child to travel B class when flying.  The child is only four.

I don’t blame Ms Mills.  I feel sorry for her.  She is a child of our age, where consumerism and celebrity are more important than anything else.

Society now is radically different from the society of a few decades ago.  The ultimate aim now is money and instant gratification, no matter what the cost.  It has reached the stage where people actually feel it is their rite to have such things.

Young people today are running headlong on a path to self destruction.  They want happiness and they want it now.  They go out of a night, not to have a drink but to get smashed out of their skulls as quickly as possible.  In my day, we went out for a few pints, and got merry.  More often than not, we would overdo it slightly and end up a bit pissed.  But it would take an entire evening to reach that state.  Now the first thing they head for is the ’shots’ and the shorts.  Get hammered NOW!  Another item on the news was about the alarming rate of increase in alcohol related problems amongst kids in their teens.  Kids are damaging their livers and kidneys before they have even started life.

The consumer society has also gone haywire.  Manufacturers would have us believe that if we don’t have the latest gizmo, gadget or whatever then we are missing out on a life changing experience.  We have to have the biggest, the best and the latest.  Why?  Why should we all drive SUVs?  Why should we all have phones with GPS, instant TV and gaming facilities?  Why should we all have bigger TVs than anyone else?  Because we are told we need them.

So we have a culture of complete discontent.  Those that don’t have it, want it, and those that have it, want more.  No one is ever happy with what they have.  We have bred a society of jealousy.  People are jealous of other peoples possessions or success.  They can’t handle that because it conflicts with their concept of instant gratification. 

So, do you want instant happiness?  Go out and drink yourself into a coma, or take drugs.

Don’t agree with someone?  Kill them.

Do you want a few bob in your pocket?  Go beat up an old age pensioner for their few quid.

Want a new phone?  Find a kid with a better one and steal it.  If you kill him in the process, then what the heck.

What the hell happened to decency and compassion?  What happened to honesty and morality?  What happened to tolerance and goodwill?

I won’t be watching the news tonight.

I’ll be dreaming about The Good Old Days.

You never know what the future holds

Grandad March 15th, 2008

I used to live in Head Rambles Manor when I was a nipper.  But then I moved out.  I flew the nest.

I moved back again nine years ago, on the 15th of March, 1999.  Nine years ago today.

I was thinking about those nine years this morning.  It has been a very strange time.

In 1999, I was an ordinary employee.  I was doing work that I liked in a place I hated.  Life was dull and routine.

Since I moved here, life has taken so many strange twists and turns that I am utterly bewildered.

It started when I quit work.  I couldn’t take the commuting any more.  I couldn’t take the office politics any more.  I wanted a bit of peace and quiet.  I wanted to relax at home with Herself and enjoy the countryside.  I took early retirement.

I was worried that I might get bored, so I started a little business, to keep me out of mischief, to pass the time, and with a bit of luck, to bring in a few extra bob.

I knew nothing about running businesses.  I did get some crap advice which I promptly ignored.  I just did it.

It got out of hand.  The fucking thing was a roaring success.  Now I’m trying to kill the business, or at least tame it a bit, because it takes up too much of my time.

I was also talked into becoming a teacher.  Me?  A teacher?  It was great fun, and I enjoyed it.  It paid extremely well, but again, it took up too much of my time.  I quit that.

Then I started blogging.  That introduced me to another strange world that I didn’t know existed.

I had no idea on this day in 1999 that I was going to

  • Become a teacher.
  • Start a very successful business.
  • Make friends all over the world.
  • Win two major awards.
  • Appear on television.
  • Do live radio interviews.
  • Be interviewed by several newspapers.
  • Be commissioned to write for the Irish Times.
  • Be commissioned to write a book, for fuck’s sake.

As I said - it has been a very strange nine years.

So much for retirement.

Now I’m a little scared as to what the next nine are going to throw up….

Retrospectives

Grandad December 30th, 2007

This is the time of year set aside for retrospectives.

I can’t really see the point in them, myself.

In particular, the sports crowd seem to go mad at the end of the year telling us all the great things that happened.  Padraig Harrington did well at golf.  Ireland did well at cricket.  So what?  Congratulations to all concerned, but if you are interested in these things you’ll remember them anyway.  And if you’re not interested, then why do you need to be reminded?

Maybe the one exception is retrospectives about Bertie and Harney.  Salt needs to be rubbed in the wounds.  And for some obscure reason, the Irish electorate have the memory span of a goldfish.  Which, of course means that they’ll have forgotten about the retrospectives by next week.

A lot of things have happened to me in the last year.  Some of them, I’ll remember, but most I’ll forget because they’re not important.  And frankly, I don’t particularly want to remember the unimportant things.  They are junk cluttering up my memory.  So I don’t want to be reminded of them.

There are a few highlights that I want to remember.  I will remember them because I have tangible reminders, like photographs, or files on my computer.

Unfortunately though, one of my big highlights has no written record.  There are no photographs.  It was a fleeting moment in time that was spontaneous and unwitnessed.

I won’t forget it though.

It was the moment Puppychild flung her arms around me for a big hug.

Then she softly ran her little fingers through my beard and whispered

"That’s gorgeous"

Will it last until 2067?

Grandad December 14th, 2007

By now you must all think I hate Christmas.

I don’t.

What I hate is the modern Christmas.

When I was a lad, back in the fifties, Christmas was a very special occasion.  We looked forward to it with great anticipation, and counted down the days.  I remember the excitement of bringing out the Advent Calendar and opening the windows on it each day.  It made Christmas seem nearer.

There was never any sign of Christmas coming in those days.  The big shops in Dublin used to put up lights and I remember taking trips into the city just to see the lights on McBernies on the Quays [I think they were called McBernies?  Does anyone remember?].  But there was never a sign of trees or decorations anywhere else.

Christmas Eve was the start.  On that day, we used to buy the tree.  There was huge excitement and we’d spend the afternoon putting it up and decorating it.  Some households even waited until the children were in bed and asleep before putting the tree up.

So on Christmas Morning, it was a time of great excitement. We would wake at about four.  First of all we’d dive for our stockings at the foot of the bed.  These held lovely little things.  A tube of sweets and little toys [all very inexpensive but that never bothered us in the slightest]. Of course there was an apple and an orange too.  We would play with these until the grown-ups were up and about.

The Day had come, and the house was decorated and the tree was up shining in the corner.  After Mass, we’d have a big family opening of the presents.  The presents were rarely big, but they were so special.  There were games, and jigsaws, and Dinky toys and all sorts of things.  None of them needed batteries; just imagination.  We would play with them all day, apart from the mealtimes. 

I still have quite a few of those Dinky cars and Matchbox cars.  When Puppychild visits, she always plays with them.  She loves them.  They have lasted nearly sixty years.

Christmas lasted for twelve days.  On Epiphany [the 6th of January], the tree and the decorations would be taken down and we’d start looking forward to Spring.

-oOo-

Nowadays, it is all so different.

I am sick of the mention of Christmas by mid November.  Every f*cking advertisement on television is telling me that my Christmas won’t be perfect unless I have a new suite of furniture, or a new phone, or some stinking scent or other.  Every shop I enter is playing tacky ‘Christmas music’ at me.  Houses are lit up like Heathrow Airport for weeks in advance. When Christmas Day arrives, it is no different from any of the preceding fifty days.

The ‘gifts’ children get are ridiculous.  They don’t get anything special because they belong to the "I Want It NOW" generation, so they already have everything.  So the poor parents have to get a second mortgage, or tap the moneylender to buy a WII or a flat screen TV for the children’s room.

Of course the presents the children get are not what they want.  They are the presents that the television tells them they want, or their friends.  Peer pressure is the key these days.  All the ‘toys’ have to have batteries and remote controls.  The dolls speak and walk and dance.  The children need no imagination whatsoever.  They are bored with the things after a couple of days [if the yokes haven't broken in the meantime].

So here is a question..

Of all the toys that will be given this Christmas..

How many will still be giving magic and fun in sixty years time?

I’ve been tagged again

Grandad November 11th, 2007

Our K8 has come up with a new meme.

And, bless her little cotton socks, she has passed it on to me.

She wants me to write a post that uses every tag. It’s all very well for her - she only has a few. I have loads. The cow!

Now I may be getting old but I find these difficult. I had a hard days blogging yesterday, as I had a good rant on a podcast to America. That was after I did my post on Cully and Sully.

So today I went for a ramble around the garden, trying to think of a topic. No go. There was no inspiration around the house either, and I’m damned if I’m going around the village or around the town for something so trivial.

Back in the 70’s life was a lot simpler. There were no computers or Internet, or even television so there were no memes. I had no irritating daughter in the family either. We found our pleasures in simple things. I remember learning to drive so we could go on holidays touring in the West, with no worries about flying and Global Warming. We had such simple sports as children in times past, like watching spiders spin their webs, and the designs they’d make. We’d go for rambles through the woods and have picnics of tea and spam sandwiches. We were a lot healthier for it.

Nowadays, work is the new religion and people have lost the use of their imagination. People only get worked up over celebrities and smoking out corrupt politicians. They panic over property prices and have lost sight of the soul of life.

No.

I can’t think of anything.

I elect not to do it.

I’m going to file this under Uncatagorised.

Maybe Sixty should have a bash at this?

Or how about Kirk at Just Thinkin’? I haven’t tagged him before.

And it’s a while since I annoyed Grannymar!!

tag-award

F*cking memes….

I didn’t shoot Kennedy

Grandad October 26th, 2007

There is an old cliché that says that everybody remembers where they were when Kennedy was shot.

That is a load of b*ll*x.

I don’t.

I was young, footloose and fancy-free. I could have been anywhere. I could have been doing my homework, though that is very unlikely as I never did my homework. I could have been shagging Pauline from up the road [though now that I think about it, that was all in my mind at the time]. I could have been reading my brothers collection of p0rn that he thought I didn’t know about [that's quite likely].

Quite frankly, at that age I didn’t give a toss about America or American presidents. That was in the time before television rammed America down our throats, so the U. S. of A. was just somewhere people went when they couldn’t get a job. I know there was a bit of a faff when he came to visit Wexford earlier in the year, but that was the extent of my lack of interest.

I remember the Cuban Missile Crisis all right, because we were all asked to pray for peace, and the world held its breath. I didn’t, personally, because I had more important things on my mind. Like sex. Testosterone was surging through my veins, and my number one priority was the fairer gender. World peace came way down the list.

I know I was in Ireland. But that’s not memory. That’s logic. I can even narrow it down to the eastern half of the country.

I know where I wasn’t.

I wasn’t in Dallas.

So it wasn’t me.

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