The greasy pole


Wind snakes down

The chimney of

Old year memories

New year promises.

Can’t quite believe

In this script

Of nondescript

Multi channels

Tune in tune out

Turn off

Bury the head

In others genius

Reluctant to wake up

Shake off

Scurry along

Through the dream like


or persistence

In climbing

The greasy pole

Watch your head!

You once warned

I might just use it

As a foothold

To reach the top

Or at least

Stop from drowning.

Step on my shoulders

Then we both might


Make it out alive

Who knows

Get off the greasy pole

And start to float.

To the top

Like cream


What a dream




Let’s find another way

We can do it

Make a human chain

Help one another

Like kids do

If we want to

Know a better way

Bring five year olds

To the woods

Listen to them

Watch them

Figure it out

Try not to interfere

And learn

The answer to all

The world’s social problems

There’s a rat in me kitchen….

And no it’s not the DTs this time. Something larger than the field mouse who comes to visit from time to time has moved in and I’m not happy.

Not because of the obvious discomfort of paying the mortgage for a rodent either. This guy is not making That much noise or shit around the place.

It’s just he’s kinda showing me up….

He’s already started the new years detox you see.

First indications were three apples taken from the fruit basket,  knawed,  then cast aside.

Then there was the obscure veg from the community garden. He really enjoyed those little munchies….

But today, three avocado’s half eaten were dotted around the kitchen…

So whilst I consider the pros of healthy eating,  even vowing to go vegan after the kilos of cheese hoovered up over the weeks, this supposedly inferior species has nailed it. Not for him the tasty mince pie I put in the trap. Oh no, this creature knows what’s good for him and will not be lured into temptation by any of the Christmas left over treats.

Perhaps there are no mistakes. Each rat, either animal or human, is sent with a purpose.

Stop taking crap. Stop eating crap. Get rid of crap.

Thank you Mr Rat for the deep and meaningful message.

Now I believe there’s a fat neighbour who desperately needs you down the road.

Endangered driving.

I was on my way back to Co Clare  from New Years on Achill Island. I’d heard the orange weather warning earlier but to be honest the whole weather warning has become a bit of a family joke with hyped up storms recently so in a state of Christmas oblivion, parked on the docks in Galway. It was close to 3p.m.. I paid for my ticket and ran off to meet a friend for lunch leaving the dog in the car. Afterwards we walked up to Eyre Square via collecting the dog from the car. We updated the ticket at about 4 o’clock . Wind was picking up and I remember thinking what a miserable place Galway is in winter.
Around 5:30 I said goodbye to my friend and started walking back to the docks. I couldn’t get through the street I had come by as it was ankle deep. I didn’t want to get my suede boots wet!! I went back up merchants quay which was now also filling with water. I saw a chap with shoes and socks off so I followed suit ..tights and boots in one hand, TK max bag in the other and dog in tow I cut through an overground car park to get to my 01 Opel Astra. When I came out the entrance on the docks side, well I couldn’t believe it. There was only a few cars left and mine was up to the lights in water. What to do? Call the ex for help ? No answer. Phone dead. Grabbed phone charger from car which was filling up inside now front and back. No way it would ever start so I started walking away .  I looked back to see the lights flashing at me in a Herbie moment of poignancy. Whatever chance the car had of survival till the next NCT it would have zero if I left it there . I waded back to the door dress hoisted up above the knees. Opened the driver door. Water gushed out to let me in…  put the key in the ignition . Lots of lights flashed. I was bit scared now of getting trapped in a submerged opel astra. Gave it one more go giving the accelerator a good pumping . It gurgled to life and feeling like some kind of Lara Croft,  started driving oh so slowly towards the entrance to the car park. Driving  up the ramp I opened the door to allow the water to pour out. Afraid to cut the engine in case it never started again, I left it running as I ran around to find frightened dog, handbag etc. I was shaking…  from adrenaline I guess. Took a bit of figuring to get out of the car park which was still filling with water. Car made ferocious noises as I came out…I thought the back bumper must have come off again(has a tendency to do so) but all was intact. I pulled in across the road at the Vincent de Paul shop. What to do? I would have to go through Salthill to get to friends house. I wasn’t  up for that . I felt instinctively that keeping the engine running was the only way car would survive but I was still ankle deep in water. Couldn’t  stay where I was as the waters was still coming so I drove in a haze until I was in Abbeygate street outside Sally Longs. I wanted to go in , have a hot whiskey and charge my phone but I was wet through and afraid to stop the car. So I pulled in , bailed out the water as best I could with a coffee cup till it fell apart .I borrowed a girls phone to check the ex and the kids were  ok. He’s a fireman so I was pretty confident they were safe. No answer. They were safely off his boat and in the cinema.
Decided best thing was to drive down the motorway and if the car conked on the way I could call breakdown assist. Just wanted to get home to fire and hot shower.
Well the car didn’t conk. It made it all the way home to Ennistymon. I drove in my bare feet water to the ankles. Luckily they’re fat ankles so can take a bit of cold water submersion!
Two days later and car is still going. Of course relief to still have my car on the road is being rapidly replaced by irritation of having to wear wellies to go anywhere in it as water is still swishing around the footholds!
On reflection I have a few questions… Why wasn’t the Docks/Salthill area closed to traffic that afternoon? I know the tide was exceptionally high but surely full moon tide +storm winds and tide equals flooding possibility. And if there is a possibility then there should be precautions taken. (bit of general life advice there!) Should there be a flood siren in the city? Like the tsunami siren in Asia? These are all questions that need to be addressed before next flooding because there will be a next one. This weather phenomenon is part of the deal we’ve been complacent about getting into. Meanwhile I don’t intend to be anywhere near Galway when it happens even in my aqua car!
Day 3….RIP the Astra she ain’t starting today. Those who know about these things say it’s time to bury her. Ah well we had fun for much longer than anticipated…

Notes to self 2017

Don’t eat mince pies for breakfast for productivity.

Don’t take mushrooms before a techno gig…. Too much stimulation.

Do drink enough tequila to get you dancing two is enough!

Do contact people when they come to mind…before they go out again.

Do assess the situation before leaping in… At least sometimes

Don’t park car on the docks during flood warnings.

Do drive car out of flood.

Don’t leave dog in the boot.

Do listen to weather forecast

Don’t listen to the news

Do get up to let your brother in at 3am.

Do go to festiEEs with family.

Do keep eyes to the ground when approaching opposite sex.

Do play more music.

Don’t keep eyes to the ground for skirting boards.

Don’t underestimate the love of your family….

Don’t overestimate love of your family…

Don’t ignore your instinct

Do question why your instinct behaves the way it does.

Do read beautiful books.

Do meditate.

Don’t procrastinate.

Don’t bitch.

Do love.

Don’t do judgement… Everyone is

Doing their best.

We are more than transformed groceries.

After buying John Moriarty autobiography for my father’s Christmas present I wanted to listen to his podcast whilst grouting the kitchen tiles . A modern woman needs to be able to attend to basic DIY aswell as dying the roots and getting to the root of the matter.

As I put away my organic veg the phrase we are more than transformed groceries caught my attention.

I love it. We are more than what we put into our bodies..  We are marred by the stars the earth the experience of our forefathers and mothers. We are the soul of the world the soul of the world is us.

Is it necessary then to attend funerals? My friends father has just died. The father of the four handsomest brothers around when I was growing up. The father of my first lover in fact. Shit I guess I should go. I also slept with his brother… Years later we had a bit of a thing…. Shite maybe I shouldn’t go.

The right thing to do… Anyone?My mother thinks I should go based on loveliness of dead man (indeed he was a lovely man, he turned a blind eye and nose to our debauchery in youth) … But she doesn’t know the sordid details.

Ahh Ill contact my girlfriend from that time. She slept with a few of them too…. That’s what happens when one grows up on an island… Moral compasses go askew in the wind rain and small pool of suitable suitors.

People from densely populated regions cannot understand this family sharing but to an islander its common behaviour.

We were only keeping warm sure. Transforming movies into romances. Trying our best to be more than transformed groceries.

Ps didn’t go to the funeral… Went to techno gig in Dublin  instead. Ben Klock. Darkness reigned in this Hard-core old theatre in the city…. Danced in a semi state of fear all night after consuming uncle Dermots plum poitin and dried mushrooms.

Will now have to visit older handsome brothers in their home unshielded by the funeral crowd. Have lots of visiting to do in this place called home. My brother of course has messed it up with his connemara poitin and bag of weed. The bags under my eyes are in linear proportion to the late nights skiteing about that is Christmas.

I’ve even dabbled in the notion of inherited madness. Floated  it by the mother as an idea that her first husband was a madman and thus bequeathed it to me his daughter.

Never forget you were conceived in love she said and if you think you’re mad well get yourself checked out. Her utter calmness was either down to the  ubsurdity of my madness or her preoccupation with matching shoes and handbag for upcoming cousins wedding.

Have shied away from that social engagement also. Since declaring myself mad I can do whatever the hell I want. How liberating. After years of being forced by a socialised sanity to attend occasions, I can now just  hang about with hair standing on end wide eyed…

What joy…. What guilt…. Paving the way for future generations when no one will grace the door of church for weddings or funerals unless they really want to. Or they’ve put away all the groceries and have nothing better to do!

Love vacation

Destination sunshine

That’s what the brochure said

Why did it rain so much then?

Was that what you were after?

Fleeting glimpses of rainbows

Peering out from a rain sodden

One man tent.

At least you are honest

Most of the time

Honesty is perceptual

Doesn’t suit everyone.

So do yourself a favour

Read the smallprint

Next time round.


Happy daze

It’s a funny old world this. Takes a bit of figuring out. But that’s what we’re here for I guess. Kick enough shit and something has to stick or shovel enough manure and something has to grow.

I feel blessed to have this opportunity to figure things out though truth be told I wish I didn’t often have to make the equation so damn complicated.

Is love of self and fellow man enough? Strip back the ego and is that what’s left?

I spoke to my mother on the phone this evening. It was like a glass of warm milk. Soothing calming nourishing. Interactions between us are not always so easy but today I was grateful.

Good grief I sound almost content…whats happening to me?

Ah yes… Tis the season to be jolly.

Christmas Spirits

Oh no it’s that time of year again.  Although I try very hard not to get sucked into the total commercial plastic performance that is Christmas, I still find myself wound up when surely during the darkest months of the year we should be winding down. Instead I torture myself with insignificant worries such as presents that are never good enough… A house which is filthy and the Christmas spirits from the past that come through the dust to haunt and taunt…

Remembering the times I  wanted to kill my partner for being useless when really it was my own feeling of inadequacy that had me champing on the holly. Ouch!

The time we fought at my parents house so I walked home with someone else and stayed out all night partying. Helpful??

Another time, years back, my uncle and I found an open bar on Christmas day, making my grandmother cry bitter tears over the selfishness of her offspring.

There is a recurring theme in these Christmas faux pax.. Alcohol. Beloved of Irish Christmases this spirit haunts every family accross the land.

Everyone has a relative who can’t handle their drink but can’t put it down either… We try valiantly to apply damage limitation.. Hide the strong stuff, collect them from the pub, feed them soakaway sandwiches,  put them to bed, pray they won’t fall over the Christmas tree or lose the cool.

We do it because behind this devilish behavior,   there is usually a gentle soul, a right softie who when sober wouldn’t say boo to the Christmas goose.

Or we do it to protect other family members from the upset that a drunken mess brings to the party.

So whilst I’m not quite ready to take a total vow on sobriety I’m ready to take a vow against  drinking too much.

It does nothing but bring me to places I’ve been before and have no desire to revisit.

For me, it’s  a sweeter postcard when you can remember the journey.

With love and lots of good Christmas memories to you. X


Ho ho ho

Ho ho ho

From the indefeatable hoe

Who won’t let go

Fall in the snow

Become a wingless angel

Frozen from the no

Which comes over and over

It’s too cold for silence

Don’t ya know

Light the fire

Warm the hearth

The rest will transpire

Once the initial thaw

Is allowed