Ciaran’s Peculier [sic] Blog

A view of the world from an Irish hole

Month: December, 2008

Dr Marlish McDwyer

So many of my friends are shaking off their mortal coils. It’s depressing, and at this time of the year there seems to be enough depression.

Marlish was my GP and a friend. I remember when I received the news that I had Multiple Sclerosis Marlish visited me to tell me what she knew about the condition. It was in Marlish’s presence that I first injected myself with this beta Interferon concoction to which I seem now to be inexorably linked.

Marlish was always someone with whom you could share a laugh, often about life’s idiocies. I remember telling her the joke about the London sperm bank that had been forced to close when it lost its last three clients; the first of whom came on the bus, the second who couldn’t come at all and the third who had missed the Tube.

Marlish also had to put up with my childish but no less real phobia for injections. I once joked to her. “You’d think Marlish that after living in Cavan for so long I’d be used to pricks.” And then there was the time when I got so “keyed up” about having a blood test that my veins just collapsed, a sign of a “fight or flight” reaction. I responded by writing a really awful poem, to which Marlish responded in much more polished verse.

Her loss will be felt very far, both amongst her friends and her patients who usually belonged to the one group.

Where some are more equal than others

The dogs on the street know why the Equality Commission in Ireland has suffered a 43 per cent cut in its funding as a result of Brian oge’s budget. They were obviously doing their work too well and had stood on a couple of rather big, calloused and bunioned toes in the higher echelons of the civil service, especially toes belonging to members of the Knights of St Columbanus and Opus Dei. For fuck’s sake equality! For everyone? women, Jews, queers, cripples, knackers … for Christ’s sake where would it end? Niall Crowley and his pinko secular humanist, lapsed Catholic friends were threatening to undermine the status quo in Ireland. If they had their ways an appalling vista whereby the friends of the great and the good, their sons and very occasionally their daughters and wives would not be able to get the pick of plumb jobs in areas like the Department of Finance or Foreign Affairs.

I think Niall Crowley must be commended on resigning rather than be further implicated in the farce which is the implementation of equality legislation in Ireland.

Cavan story-telling CD

A new CD devoted to story-telling in Cavan entitled Stories from Local People in Cavan, December 2008 issued. It was compiled by Kate Ennals and the Cavan Community Forum. Amongst those story-tellers featured is yours truly and I have to express my pride and gratitude to Kate for asking me to participate. It is a major contribution to Co. Cavan’s heritage and will be a major source in years to come. It is available directiy from kate at 0494378583

Isn’t it nice to see that one section of Cavan County Council can do something useful, worthwhile and non self-seeking for a change, without the input of that institution’s august officer corp.

Kill the pig

I’ve just been looking at the lunch-time news on RTE. Thankfully I had finished my lunch. There is a certain irony in that pig products had to be withdrawn from Irish shelves earlier in the week, given that our prime minister, Brian Cowen, resembles a pig – a fat pig in a suit. Apologies to my many porcine friends who look far more handsome than he does.

Ciaran’s pick-ups

Last night (December 10th), while trawling the wavebands I picked up the radio station in N’Djamena on 4905 khz. Reception was fair until sign-off at 22.30. I also picked up the government station in Lhasa, Tibet which was playing Tibetan vocal music. Certainly more entertaining than Northern Sound.

Why am I writing this? In the distant off-chance that someone out there might be interested.

Pissed off

I am pissed off. A recent report by the OECD found that there were high levels of poverty amongst the disabled in Ireland – not exactly news to me. It suggested that such poverty was because disabled people didn’t always have adequate access to training and education to gain qualifications. Well I have the highest degree I can get in my chosen area, a PhD in history, from one of Ireland’s most prestigious universities, Trinity College Dublin, and I am still poor, at least financially, and I expect to remain so for the rest of my life. You see, if you’re disabled, you can have all the qualifications you want, but you will still be sidelines or ignored. Public institutions will have nice verbal candy saying that they are “equal opportunities employers’ or that they are committed to the improvement of the lives of the disabled, but in practice this means sweet fu….

One skill that I have, along with the vast majority of people, is literacy. I am able to read and write and I enjoy both activities immensely. There are a small little clique – small in size but alas powerful – who wish I couldn’t write. Let me repeat I enjoy writing, as I feel it’s something I’m tolerably good at; I also love expressing myself. Yet since the onset of Multiple Sclerosis I cannot deny that I find it tiring. So when I write a letter or an e-mail to someone, and they don’t reply, I see it as the height of rudeness. I’m sure there are probably letters out there that I haven’t replied to, but the thought appals me. Anyone who sends me a message by e-mail, which is not rude or offensive, (and in fact it can be as offensive as it likes if it comes from someone I actually know), will receive a reply as quickly as I can write it.

People who read my blog will be aware of how I have talked about the problem of semi-literacy which affects some public officials, especially here In Cavan, and how I have spoken of schemes of intensive tutoring to help them, all paid for by the tax-payer naturally. I know well that these highly-paid mandarins are not semi-literate; they can read and write (and certainly count) as well as anyone; they are just plain bad-mannered with the social graces of a serially randy skunk who believes that they only need communicate with those who are important i.e. “The People”.

Sadly this rudeness also affects members of our legislature. I’m sick and tired of writing to TDs and never getting a reply. I’m tempted to introduce a “name and shame” scheme.

Another great excuse is that “we sent you an e-mail but you mustn’t have seen it.” What they are saying is that “You’re blind and partially sighted aren’t you. It’s a reasonable excuse to give when in fact we haven’t sent an invitation at all.” Let’s name and shame: I was a student of Cavan’s Royal School. I worked hard and got very good exams results. I thought I had brought honour on my school, and I was certainly proud of having attended it, feeling that it had taught me many things. Yet when the school decided to write its history I wasn’t asked to do this; in fact I wasn’t even asked to the launch of the book. My head-master said he had invited me by e-mail (itself not a proper form of invitation). The person whom he had charged with sending this electronic invitation claimed that he had sent it. He furthermore told me that there would be a further event related to the school’s history in September 2008. I waited for an invitation, which never came. To quote the title of one of Pedro Almodovar’s films “What have I done to deserve this?” The Gardai never had to come up to the school to question me. I was revising for my inter-cert when a group of vandals carried out an arson attack on an Orange hall near Bailieborough. It would have been common courtesy to be invited – courtesy was something that was instilled in me by the school’s teachers, but as is so often the case I tink it was more “Do as we say and not as we do.”

I’ve said enough. What’s more I’m getting tired.

La Voix du Sahel

Last Saturday night, while trawling through the airwaves I came upon a station in the 31 metre band at 9705 khz to be precise. It was playing African music, however I assumed it must be a big international broadcaster, as they predominate in that frequency range. However, the music sounded too authentic and the broadcast was not exactly strong. I looked up the frequency in a list and to my surprise I discovered that it was La Voix du Sahel from Niamey in Niger. The broadcast was in an African vernacular, possibly Zarma, and was certainly stronger than the frequency I’ve usually caught La Voix du Sahel on in the Tropic Band.

Plus ca change in Turkmenistan

The BBC has reported that the ghastly National Anthem of Turkmenistan is to be amended. This is to remove the constant references to former president and narcissist par excellence Saparmurad Niyazov, generally called Turkmenbashi or father of the Turkmens.

The diminutive dictator had a personality cult bordering on the absurd naming everything from airports and meteorites to months of the year after himself and his family. It was no joke for people in Turkmenistant, who saw little of the wealth garnered from possessions of vast quantities of hydrocarbons. The health and education system was decimated in policies which earned the quiet envy of Irish health minister Mary Harney.

But Big man Little Man died of a heart-attack two years’ ago this month. Since then his photo has been removed from its ubiquitous presence on the nation’s streets. These moves have been made by Turkmenbashi’s successor, dentist Gubanguldy Berdymukhamedov. The only thing is that many of the old portraits of the former president have been replaced by pictures of the new guy. There is a widely-held belief that Berdymukhamedov is in fact the illegitimate son of Turkmenbashi; certainly they look very similar.

Driving home for Christmas

I’m sure everyone remembers that Chris Rea song. Well it will soon be time for our parliamentarians to go off on their well-earned christmas break. This is the cue for a spot of boring pantomime, worthy of a third-rate amateur dramatic company. No doubt End o’ Fine Gael Kenny will protest that the government should stay in session “with the time that’s in it”, but nobody would get more of a kick in the gron than the blueshirts if the FFers were to turn round and say: “OK it’s a fair cop Enda, we’ll meet on Christmas Eve.” For everyone knows that if there’s a crowc more greedy and callos than the FFers, it’s the whining blueshirts who are only peeved that the Soldiers of Destiny don’t distribute the spoils of power evenly.

What’s the story in Drumnamuckagh?

What’s the story in Drumnamuckagh? – Wouldn’t you like to know!

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