Ciaran’s Peculier [sic] Blog

A view of the world from an Irish hole

Category: Disability

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Our journey?

Rosie, my sister Gill and myself have received an invitation to an event to be held in the Irish Wheelchair Association headquarters at Corlurgan, on May 28th. This is a play about disabled people and starring disabled people from Co. Cavan. It is a most worthy project and I wish it the greatest success to those taking part.

 There are a number of aspects that trouble me however. First, as far as I can discern, the play has not been written by disabled people, but by an able-bodied dramatist, maybe commissioned by Cavan County Council’s Arts Office. There seems to be the implication here that disabled people’s thoughts are too raw and coarse to be consumed by the general, able-bodied public, and have to be interpreted by someone else. Is it about disabled people’s journeys but in the words of the able-bodied? Apart from those unfortunate enough to suffer from aphasia or any other condition that causes loss of speech, all the disabled people I know (including myself) can speak very well and clearly.

 Bound up with this may be the assumption that disabled people wouldn’t be able to formulate their thoughts intelligently, let alone write a play.

 As I have a prior engagement I won’t be able to attend. This should not be seen as a snub by me towards those taking part in the play, who have my boundless respect and admiration. Unfortunately I feel I know what is going to happen. The event will be turned into a photo opportunity. My good friend Brian Mulligan will be on hand to take the pictures of the disabled who will be lined up for the shot. They will thus appear as nice, well-behaved and non-threatening cripples. This will then appear in the pages of the Anglo-Celt as exhibits in the ego-trips of those able-bodied people who want to appear caring. It might be said that the disabled are therefore being cynically used.  Bridget Boyle will be there of course, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t have her friend Whacko Jacko Keys there. Bridget enjoys the privileged position of being the only disabled person he deigns to communicate with.  Another sure show will be the chairman of the County Council, Winston Bennett, who will play the role of the self-important courthouse jester by wearing a silly chain round his neck. (Now men who wear jewellery are often ridiculed and called names like “trannies”. What’s more the only people I know who are called Winston are from the West Indies.)

 The drama has been assisted by Cavan County Council’s Arts Office. I used to enjoy very close relations with the office’s staff but I seem to have dropped out of their orbit. I cannot understand why the Arts Officer, my dear (or at least I though dear) friend Catriona O’Reilly never told me about this project. No doubt it would have been inappropriate for her to have contacts with me. How could she own up to being the friend of someone who has said such dreadful things about poor Brendan Snott and his neurotic predecessor in the Ballyjamesduff County vomitarium? She could have contacted me by ‘phone while out walking were she afraid that contact me through her office would be overheard.

 I cannot second-guess the play’s contents, but I do hope that it is realistic and not a dire panegyric singing the praises of the Irish Wheelchair Association or telling of Cavan’s disabled community’s gratitude to Cavan County Council for putting them on the housing waiting list – and keeping them there – where they know that any criticism of the council’s policies will earn them backward movement on the said list. Funny thing is that I don’t think there are that many houses being built, but no doubt the council will restart their construction once they get some of the 25 million euro they’re owed by developers.)

 Now I am confined to a wheelchair, although thankfully I can walk for about half a mile each day. The play is called Our Journey, but I don’t feel it’s my journey, as nobody ever contacted me for my input. This is not prompted by churlish resentment. I do believe that my story, which is not superior to anyone else’s, might be of interest. It is certainly of no lesser value, but it seems that some of those behind this project just don’t want to hear it. They may think that it would be too embarrassing and too likely to offend “certain people”. Yet my disabled journey is a joyful story. I see my disabilities as gifts from God; they are challenges which have been given to me and which I see myself as having a duty to overcome as best I can. I know that there would be many who would bristle with discomfort were I to say the unutterable, that I am actually proud of my disabilities and how I continue to deal with them on a daily basis.

 But it seems as if there are some in Cavan who want to ignore me. The great lie is spread that I am angry.  I am portrayed as someone who has never accepted my position as a cripple, one of God’s accursed. My outlook is heretical, because I do not humbly accept my disabilities as the actions of a wrathful God, (and it goes without saying that the people who think this know God well). What is more I refuse to come to terms with the “fact” that no mater how many books I write or languages I learn I can nevcr, never be as good as the laziest and most incompetent able-bodied person.

 I am therefore not worthy of charity, (not that I want it), or kindness. The nun who used to wipe clean the blackboard when she would see me attempting to discern what she had written, and who forbade any of my classmates to give me their notes, was thus justified because I had stood up to her tyranny. I haven’t changed. In the past I have offended the petty local establishment and thumbed my nose at organisations like the knights of St Columbanus. Did I not go to a Protestant school and refuse to kiss Bishop McKiernan’s ring? I must therefore be punished by being airbrushed out of Cavan’s reality like someone who doesn’t exist, never has and never will.

 Let me repeat that I wish the event all the very best luck. At least I was invited. In the past Tess Kennedy of the Irish MS Society, which has close links to the IWA, has invited me to give talks on local history and other subjects to members in St Christopher’s, and I hope that those who attended enjoyed themselves and found the experience as instructive and rewarding as I did. This action stands in marked contrast to that of the National Council for the Blind in Cavan. Now both Tess and Bridget Boyle knew of my skills and abilities, and both of them were well aware of my contributions to the sadly defunct Cavan Echo. They have never been afraid to count me as a friend and indeed an equal.

 No doubt Dr Snott, so long employed by Cavan County Council and taken to their collective heart, thought that he was a real clever boy when he accepted the invitation to speak from the NCBI on a topic that I had worked on for over two decades. The apposite adjective for him is, I believe unprintable even on my blog.

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Sean Connick

I sincere congratulate Sean Connick ion his promotion to a ministry of State. Sean and myself have one thing in common. We both have to use wheelchairs. I hope that Brian Cowen’s actions are not motivated by tokenism here. Sean has shown himself well able to perform the arduous and difficult tasks associated with government.

 This is not the first time I’ve congratulated Sean. I sent him a message at the time of his first election. Sadly he never replied.

 Sean has the opportunity of becoming a real role model for disabled people. He can demonstrate that we deserve a real chance to contribute to society, and be more than the obsequiously nodding backing groups to the often short-sighted actions of those who take responsibility for promoting the disabled.

As I have said myself and Sean have one thing in common. He has just been appointed to government, and yet I languor in obscurity. Sean has worked hard for his promotion, and deserves to be able to reap the rewards of his efforts, yet I’m supposed to just sit here and quietly accept the ongoing attempts of some people in this locality to rubbish me and my work.

Some might say that I somehow deserve my lot because of my outspokenness. But all I’ve ever done is call attention to waste and shortcomings. There are attempts also to portray me as some type of angry hothead who has never come to terms with his disabilities. I see my disabilities as gifts, yes gifts from God. Rather than raging against them it is up to me to work my way through and around them, as Sean Connick and many others have done. I remember once seeing an interview with him, where he said that, like everyone he had his good and his bad days – so do I. The most important thing is to keep going on and feel that you are making a positive contribution to the world around you.

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Talk on Cavan’s friary

The National Council for the Blind in Ireland (NCBI) which claims to represent the interests of the bind and partially sighted in Ireland has organised a meeting for next Thursday. The “Special guest” will be Dr Brendan Scott who will talk about the Franciscan Friary in Cavan.

 Brendan Scott is the same person who organised a conference on the medieval and early modern history of Cavan to which were invited specialists from as far away as the UK and America, though an expert who resided in Cavan, namely myself, was not invited. This was a deliberate snub, motivated by Dr Scott’s perception that there had been “trouble” between me and the museum, though it had been before his time.

 Some months earlier Dr Scott had unsuccessfully sought to replace me as a contributor to the Cavan Echo. I think it is obvious that Dr Scott has same issues regarding me. Though I’m damned if I know what they are as I’ve never even met him.

 This is the person the NCBI has invited as a special guest. Now it is bad enough that the NCBI does sweet FA to promote the interests of the blind, but quite another when they are siding with those who attack them. The invitation has cleared Dr Scott at a stroke of any accusation of discriminating against a partially sighted and disabled scholar. How could he have done such a thing he can say, when the National Council for the Blind itself invites him as a special guest – and in clear preference to the person whom he discriminated against.

 I am reproducing here an article I wrote for the Cavan Echo about Cavan’s Franciscan Friary, that I wrote in October 2007. But how silly and impudent of me to make such a claim when it is obvious I never wrote this at all. I have merely dreamed that I have written this, when in fact my hand and brain were in fact being directed by my double Dr Brendan Scott. It’s copyrighted. It was Francis Bacon who said “Opportunity makes the thief.”

 Given my expertise on the areas I have offered to give the talk instead, based on my own material, but the NCBI has responded to my offer with deafening silence. No doubt they are part of the voluntary sector in Cavan who are captives of the County Council, their members cowed into silence and acquiescence of discrimination by the promise of council grouses. While Whacko Jack presents himself as a guardian of disabled rights as he poses with yet another group of expensive, external consultants.

 By the way Brendan, does it make yo0u feel big and macho to pick on a disabled person and to steal from a cripple? You’ll have no luck you miserable bastard.

 Cavan’s Franciscan Friary

 Cavan Echo, October 19th 2007

 

With the break-neck level of building development in Cavan town it can often seem as if the oldest surviving structure is a post-box or a petrol-tank. This accolade belongs however to the tower of the Franciscan Friary in the town’s Abbey Street, formerly known as Church Lane.

 Founding father

 The foundation of the friary, for monks from the Franciscan order or Ordo Fratrum Minorum (OFM) was the first surviving reference to Cavan in any of the surviving annals. The person who founded the friary was the recently-installed chieftain of East Breifne, Giolla Iosa ruadh O’Reilly, who more than anyone helped to re-establish the power of his family after the debacle of Magh Slecht half a century earlier which had seen the death of his father, grandfather, half-brother and many other relatives.

 Poorest of the poor

 The Franciscan order had been founded by St Francis in Italy in 1209. Their members were dedicated to rigorous and absolute poverty. At first they renounced even the principle of holding property in common. They spread like wild-fire throughout Europe, even reaching remote parts of Ireland, Scotland and Scandinavia within a century of their foundation.

 The Franciscans had been particularly successful in urban areas, so their success in the north of Ireland, which was still devoid of towns, was unusual. The first monks may have come from Dundalk or Drogheda, or from friaries elsewhere in Ulster, such as Downpatrick and Carrickfergus. These were under the control of the Anglo-Norman earl of Ulster Richard de Burgh. The earl was generally on friendly terms with Giolla Iosa, who named one of his sons Risteard after him.

 Nothing survives today from this foundation. An eighteenth-century antiquary wrote that Giolla Iosa built a chapel and marble mausoleum at the friary. This might have been too ostentatious for the friars though who were wedded to simplicity in all aspects of life.

 Arson around

 Many of the buildings were of wood. In 1452 much of the abbey was destroyed in a fire caused by a careless monk called O Mothlain who was reading his breviary by candle-light, although The Annals of Ulster infer that he had partaken too freely of wine. In May 1575 the friary, with much of the town of Cavan went up in flames, though on this occasion a highly-placed arsonist was to blame. The wife of the then ruler of Erfast Breifne, Aodh Conallach, had a grudge against one of the residents of Cavan and set fire to their house. Alas for the town and the friary the flames spread. .

 Old peoples’ home with a difference

 The friary soon developed a rather non-religious aspect closely linked to the ruling house; it became a strange mixture of a retirement home and political refuge. Fifteen years after its foundation Giolla Iosa gave up the reins of power to become a monk in the friary where he died and was buried in 1330. His son Cu Chonnacht (whose descendants eventually settled in the Munterconnaght area of Co. Cavan) also retired there to die in 1366. His time at the top had been marked by tension with his brother Pilip, and Cu Chonnacht’s act of renunciation of the world may have been all the sweeter because he knew the friary afforded the right of sanctuary to all who lived there.

 The old order changes

 For many years a mistaken belief was held by some historians that the friary had been founded not by Franciscans, but by their brother mendicants the Dominicans or Ordo Praedicatorum (OP) There was a change in the rule followed by the monks in 1503 when the then ruler of East Breifne, Sean Mac Cathail O’Reilly, successfully petitioned the Papacy for the friary to change from the mainstream conventual branch of the Franciscans towards the much more rigorous and fundamentalist Observantines, which had been founded in Italy in 1368. but which was sweeping all before it in Ireland.

 A bishop’s residence

 The friary was important in the local secular church, to which in theory it did not belong. The last bishop of the diocese of Tir Bruin before it changed its name to that of Kilmore, was one Donat O Gabhain, and in the 1430s the Franciscan friary was his residence.

 A falling off

 It is probable that, like many other religious institutions in sixteenth-century Ireland it suffered from a falling-off of membership and religious discipline. It seems to have survived the various troubles of the sixteenth century intact. Nettercliff’s map of Cavan town c. 1590 shows a plain rectangular building with a tower on the site of the present tower,

 Kindly move aside

 With the extinction of O Raghailigh power and the advent of English rule this church was pressed into use as a place of Protestant Divine service. During the upheavals of the middle of the century it changed back to being a church of Catholic worship, only to be once more seized by the conflict’s victors for their religious uses.

 A final resting place

 Before this it had, according to tradition, served as the burial place of Eoghan ruadh O Neill, the military leader of the rebellion in Ulster, following his death at Clough Oughter in November 1649. Other traditions in the Clough Oughter area dispute this though. It had certainly been a place of burial for the O’Reilly chieftains throughout the later middle Ages. The late Philip O’Connell recounted another tradition of the unearthing of stone-lined coffins during repaving work in the nineteenth century.

 Going out for a slash

 Some antiquaries also testify to the survival of a tombstone belonging to the legendary Myles the Slasher, but as “Myles” did not die at the Bridge of Finea but passed away in France such a monument must have been a figment of their imagination.

 Continuation

 The church continued to be used as Cavan’s parish church throughout the eighteenth century. The monastery was knocked down and its materials used for the construction of a barracks for horses nearby.  The surviving tower possibly dates from the eighteenth century. The grounds were used as a cemetery until the late nineteenth century; amongst those buried there were the first barons arnham.   

The end of the road

It was obviously too small of a building to act as Cavan’s Parish Church. In 1807 work began on a new structure on land donated by the Farnhams. Construction was delayed by the ongoing Napoleonic wars but by November 1815 sufficient buildings had been completed to allow the first services to be held there, thus condemning the structure in Abbey Street to obsolescence; one of the last services held there took place on Christmas Day 1815.

While still used for burials the site soon became overgrown, a condition only recently reversed.  The inside of the tower itself was used as a dumping ground and alfresco public convenience. Some of the original wooden structures of the church survived until the 1880s, for in December 1888 the Anglo-Celt recorded a fire on the site, which by then had attained the importance of a sanctuary as the burial place of “Owen Roe”.

© Ciaran Parker 2007

I have since learned from among others Dr Eamon McDwyer of a long-current tradition that Eoghan ruadh O Neill was buried in 1649 at a site on the Bridge Street side of the abbey.

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The invisible man speaks again

In today’s post I received an invitation to a talk organised by the National Council for the Blind (NCBI). This is to take place in Cavan’s library and the speaker will be Cavan County Museum’s Dr Brendan Scott, who will talk about the Franciscan friary in Cavan, a subject of such great relevance to the blind and partially sighted.

 Now I know that Dr Scot and his miserable friends, who are such avid readers of my blog, would love me to spill my guts on my blog about this. But to be honest, I can’t be arsed. However, I never realised that Brendan Scott of Belturbet is such a low-down, cowardly, cruel cur.  His father seems such a nice man though.

 As for the NCBI they once again prove themselves to be useless. Indeed, one must question their role as a charitable organisation which claims to be representing the interests of the blind and partially sighted. When they want someone to give a lecture they don’t turn to the partially sighted person in their locality who has a PhD in history as well as years of lecturing experience. They claim ignorance of his existence, even though he is no shrinking violet, and in spite of also being confined to a wheelchair, leads a very public life. Instead they have to ask the County Council and the County Manager’s little darling. In the light of my description of him I think this speaks volumes.

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NCBI part 1

The National Council for the Blind of Ireland (NCBI) is the largest voluntary organisation working on behalf of the blind and partially-sighted in Ireland. It has helped, I am sure, thousands of blind and partially-sighted people over the years and is no doubt continuing to do so. However, because it relies on workers in various localities, whose experience of dealing with the blind varies considerably, I feel that its work has been patchy. It has, with difficulty, shaken off well-entrenched “Victorian” attitudes towards disability.

I beg leave of my readers to share my own experiences of the NCBI. Growing up in Cavan I must admit I felt that the NCBI treated me as something of a freak. My ambitions to better myself were tolerated as a fad which I would work myself out of, once I discovered that no matter how hard I worked I could never hope to aspire to be treated equally.

In 1988 I had a serious confrontation with the government when the Department of Social Welfare tried to throttle my attempts to study for a higher degree in Trinity College Dublin. I eventually won, but I had to make sure the NCBI took no part in my case, as it was manifest from early on that their support would have been given to the other side and against me. An NCBI official decried how unreasonable I was and then screamed at me that I was fighting “the law of the land.” I wanted to live independently in Dublin, something I achieved, though at a financial cost. The same NCBI person asked me why I’d never sought accommodation in a blind hostel.

When I came back to Cavan I was introduced to the NCBI’s then case worker in the area, Ms Bernie Rawls. We got on like a house on fire. For one thing Bernie treated me like an equal and never looked down on me. She was of huge assistance in getting me specialist software and computer hardware, as well as being a constant source of advice and friendship. Sadly, Bernie resigned from her post, and in her final letter to me she told me her NCBI replacement would be in touch with me. This was more than five years’ ago, and no one has contacted me since.

            … To be continued

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NCBI part 2

On September 15th 2009 I received a letter from the National Council of the Blind outlining the work of their very worthwhile EYE CAN program. The letter was accompanied with a request for a monthly payment towards it. It goes without saying that this was, in normal times, a worthy cause, but I felt that such a request was slightly inappropriate. Those in receipt of the non-contributory blind pension occupy a position astride the poverty line, and there are more than enough calls upon our limited income. What was more everyone knew that the aforementioned blind pension was facing a cut in line with the evil prescriptions of the McCarthy report.

 I was anxious to explain the position I was in and why I, and most other blind pension recipients, would have been unable to contribute to the EYE CAN program, no matter how much they wanted to.  I also wanted to find out what the NCBI was doing about the prospect of benefit cuts. Had it made a submission to the government? Could blind pension recipients help? Could they, for example, lobby their local politicians?

 The letter I received had been sent in the name of the NCBI’s director Des Kenny.  There were no contact details, such as an e-mail address. However, I eventually found a way of sending a letter to Des via e-mail. I did so in late September 2009 and I have never received a reply. 

 I subsequently found out that the National Council for the Blind had indeed made a pre budget submission, but without any involvement from those poor wretches whom it represents. This submission was, I feel, not quite as strident or rigorous as was necessary, and I take the liberty of reproducing a paragraph of it here.

      “The report by the Commission on Taxation recommended that the Blind Person’s
        Tax Credit be discontinued, in favour of a direct payment. NCBI broadly
       agrees with this recommendation as the Blind Person’s Tax Credit currently
       only benefits people in employment. However, NCBI would like to be involved
       in the consultation around what this direct payment should be before giving
       our full backing to this decision.”

 The NCBI’s Communications Officer, Ms. Fionnuala Murphy, added

        “These recommendations are drawn up in conjunction with our community-based staff, who have regular contact with people      who are blind or vision impaired and keep themselves up to date on the issues that people face in their daily lives.”

 Let me repeat, nobody from the NCBI has been in contact with me for years. Nobody can say I’m a shrinking violet when it comes to expressing how I feel.

 For one thing, I would have refused to even engage in a budget based on the recommendations of Colm McCarthy. This was an unoriginal and dishonest right-wing blue-print for rolling back government involvement in the economy. But such churlishness would have been pooh-poohed by some as outrageous behaviour towards people who pretend to no more about things than I do. And then people like government ministers, senior civil servants and economists might have been in a better position to make donations to things like the EYE CAN project, and their generosity should not be met with ingratitude.  But would a more strident, dare I say macho stance towards the McCarthy recommendations have mattered? They were followed almost to the letter.

 I haven’t heard of the response (if any) by the NCBI to the cut in the blind pension benefit. It may have occurred, but fell below the news radar. In any case, not everything that happens in this country gets reported, no matter how news worthy it is. Another name for it is censorship. I somehow doubt that there response has been as robust as mine, as when I call Minister Hanafin a liar, a name to which she is more than entitled. Maybe there are those who have been conned into believing that if they’re nice to Minister Mary she won’t cut the blind pension in the next budget, or indeed might augment it by a few euro – that is, if Mary Hanafin is still a minister at the next budget. Her involvement with blind charities in the past is well known, and she certainly publicised it in her attempts to gin election to, amongst other bodies, Fianna Fail’s so-called Committee of Fifteen.

 I noticed that the attempts of some blind and partially-sighted people to protest against the cutbacks were met with frowns of disapproval by those who said such protests would achieve nothing, that the government no matter how evil or corrupt it might be, is all powerful and that the blind and partially sighted are pretty much on society’s bottom rung. But the biggest elephant can be driven mad by the smallest flea. As Dolores Ibarruri (La Passionaria) once said, it’s better to die on your feet than live on your knees.

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Life at the bottom

I have to admit that the cut in my Blind pension, compounded by the disgraceful way in which the minister for social affairs has lied about it, has left me reeling. My self confidence has taken a knock. I certainly feel far more uncertain about myself.

 I’m nearly forty-five, an age at which many people take stock of their lives. I’ve achieved much, and done a lot I can be proud of, but in purely financial and material terms I am no better off than I was when I was 18. My sight seems to be holding its own, but I have been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, a disease of the nervous system which will get steadily worse (unless some miracle cure is discovered). My medication has succeeded in slowing down and ironing out the degree of relapse, but I am realistic enough to know that eventually I face complete paralysis maybe in the medium term. But the Irish government has so far responded to me not by giving me more but by taking away the little it gives, so that I anticipate in the coming years the prospects of being a penniless and helpless cripple, unable to work, indeed unable to do anything for myself. I will probably be housed, if I’m lucky, in a home where I’ll be the recipient of the mixture of care and indifference such places provide. Of course I will be looked down upon , and treated with condescension.

 This is not the life I had planned out for myself. I have never considered myself imbued with extraordinary intelligence, but I always worked hard at education. This was for a very simple reason. I didn’t want to live in the twilight world of a cripple. No, I wanted to contribute fully to the world around me and earn adequate amounts of money; I knew it would be tough with my sight problem, so I thought that if I have grades and qualifications of a higher level than other people it will force society and prospective employees to give me a chance and treat me as an equal. How naïve I was! In all my hard work in education I was only fashioning a rod with which others could beat me.

 In Ireland disabled people have very few rights in employment. All the cards are held by the employer. If he or she has the slightest hunch that a disabled person will not be able to do a job they are perfectly entitled to sack the disabled person, or, as happens fare more often, not give the disabled person a job at all. I was not considered for a job because I was “not a driver and able to get around,” even though the job was not that of a chauffeur. I was very well qualified for the job in question, and I was then intended to do much of the work the successful candidate couldn’t do, but for a far lower wage than he received.

 But those disabled people who are in employment are made to feel that they are lucky. Certainly they are in a minority. One of the reasons often put forward for the higher level of unemployment amongst disabled people is lack of skills. This may be true, but dare I say again look at me. I have a PhD, as well as diplomas in proofreading, copy editing and public relations. I have a knowledge of over a dozen European languages, as well as a keen interest in areas like management studies and world trade. Am I any better off? I know I should have paid more attention to scientific and technological subjects, but I honestly feel that I would be equally “unemployable” in the minds of many employers if I had a Masters degree in information technology. I have made mistakes in life, but none of them are so serious that they must be punished by a life sentence of poverty. And exclusion

 Many disabled people are confined to employment ghettoes, doing low=skilled and badly-paid work without prospects of promotion. This is especially true of the public service, and is a situation that has been allowed to continue with the connivance of the trades unions. These jobs are often entirely unsuitable for the particular disabled people who get them. In one local authority I know of a girl who is a university graduate who has a job in the motor tax department. She is partially sighted and finds the work tedious, as well as placing great strain and stress upon her eyes. In the local authority concerned there is only one disabled person employed in a higher, supervisory, role – and he is the son of a former TD and County Councillor (a man who, by the way, has worked tirelessly on behalf of his son, for which he deserves much praise).

 I like to see myself as standing up to evil but I’m no hero. Yest, I am afraid, because I see those in positions of power and influence as being very evil, wicked and cowardly people who cover their nefarious activities. They are as evil as the likes of Osama Bin Laden, but though evil they seldom have courage, certainly not the courage to do anything on their own bat. No, they much prefer to act in consort with others who are similarly stained by evil. In this they remind me of the phenomenon recognised by Hannah Arendt in the likes of Eichmann; an evil which is banal, not very spectacular, but which is nevertheless capable of causing great harm.

 I gain happiness from my marvellous partner, Rosie, our family of three dogs and five cats, my family and close friends. But I feel so vulnerable. The rulers of this country and their advisors are a group of cowardly, selfish, vicious and hypocritical thieves who are able to act with impunity. Nobody comments any more on how bad things have got, because they know they can’t change anything. The media seem to have gone into abeyance. An opinion poll hasn’t been published in months, and won’t be until it is favourable to the government. The country as a whole chugs along motivated by a culture of botch and mediocrity, which can be summed up in the phrase “Ah sure fuck it, it’s bollixed but it can’t be helped an’ anyway it’s not my job.” In many of our bigger towns and cities  there is an out-of-control crime wave, with tit-for-tat murders occurring nightly, while our police are scared shitless of any real crime because it would be a challenge to them to actually do something instead of riding around in their squad cars. Visits to my local hospital in Cavan are prohibited for the forseeable future, bceause of another outbreak of the “Winter VOmitting bug.”  This must make a stay in hospital more akin to a prison sentence for patients, whether they are on trolleys or are lucky enough to have a bed,  It’s a bit of a joke isn’t it; you go to a hospital to be cured, but in Ireland you may come out seriously ill.

For me personally the feeling of vulnerability is compounded by the knowledge that the various charities and voluntary organisations who supposedly campaign for the disabled have thrown in their lot with the powers that be and are far more interested in raising funds to keep their officials in employment.  Sometimes my fear at the situation leads to panic.

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Dempsey must go

I agree with Deputy Tommie Broughan who has called on minister Noel Dempsey to resign. Failing that he should be sacked for his

Tommy Broughan TD

 arrogance and incompetence, but that it unlikely to happen. Let him who is without sin etc.

 Minister Dempsey is liked a spoiled teenager who when castigated for his selfish behaviour, responded almost by saying like Harry Enfield’s character Kevin the Teenager “This is SO unfair. I’m entitled to a holiday.” I might consider hat I am entitled to many things, a holiday being one. I haven’t had a holiday or years. It is unlikely that

I HATE YOU!!!

I will get one soon as the benefit upon which I must live has been reduced. By the way I feel I’m entitled to get more than a pittance by way of a blind pension. I certainly feel that I am not entitled to have this cut, an act which the minister for Social and Family Affairs even denies doing.

 There are many other things in life to which I might have felt entitled, such as a job as a lecturer in an Irish university but one of these august institutions of learning (the one which granted a scholarship to Brian Lenihan Jr) felt more comfortable employing someone whom they later had to suse3nd (on full pay) for sexually harassing his students. I might have considered that I was entitled to have been invited to speak at a conference on medieval and early modern history of Cavan, organised by Cavan county Museum (and to which people from the UK and US were invited and paid to attend), but the research officer was too afraid that I might be embarrassed by such an invitation. I might have considered that I was entitled to be given proper employment of and payment for my many skills, in spite of being doubly disabled, but those in positions of authority obviously know better.

 I have learned to live with these many disappointments, and anyway, being a mere nobody of a citizen, there is nothing I can do about them, whereas Minister Dempsey can every one of his puerile whims fulfilled.

 The attitude of the cabinet towards the Irish people is so instructive. After introducing the wickedest and most deceitful budget since the 1930s government ministers jumped up and said: “We’re off on holiday now, and yez can all go and fuck yourselves.”

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Why I don’t like Brian Lenihan Jr

The news that Brian Lenihan Jr may have cancer does not cause me to shed many tears. I sense how the righteous will bristle with indignation at my anger which proves to their perverted minds that I really should be in a mental hospital – a bit difficult as most have been closed.

 Brian Lenihan Jr was born with a silver cock in his mouth. As the son of a senior Fianna Fail politician he wanted for nothing. He was showered with academic honours, by amongst other my own alma Mater and thereby gained entry to the ranks of the Irish Bar, while others less blessed had to scratch around looking for briefs and not infrequently had to seek employment far from the Law.

 But I hear my detractors retort as they munch their bacon butties: “But pray look at the pig. Can it be blamed throughout its life for being born in a sty?” Perhaps not, but it can have sympathy for those who have not had such accidents of birth. And then he becomes Minister for Finance and seeks to cover himself with glory for a budget the like of which had not been seen since 1930, which penalised the poor and the vulnerable for the excesses of the rich and the incompetence of his own administration. There are many people whose Christmases have been rendered even grimmer by his wish to appear macho and take “tough” decisions.

 The blueshirt Blythe dragged out his miserable, pathetic existence for over four decades more, though a marginal figure in Irish life, disowned – rightfully – by many of his former allies, without any influence except in very limited theatrical circles. Providence may provide that Lenihan Jr won’t have to tarry so long upon life’s stage.

 I knew Brian Lenihan Jr in Trinity College. He used to sit not far from me at meetings of the Erskine Childers cumann there. He was an arrogant sot, whose every piece of verbal flatulence was imbued with the colour of wisdom and sagacity by his numerous hangers’ on. I also knew he was destined for stardom, and while I might have had my eyes similarly stellar-bound I was wise enough to sense that I was far more likely to spend my days in the gutter. Had I known that he would be instrumental in robbing me of the small amount I received as compensation for being blind and partially-sighted, (as well as insisting that I must pay a prescription charge for the medicine that is slowing down the inevitable course of my Multiple Sclerosis) I would have gone over to him and put my hands tightly around his miserable, fat neck until such time as I had choked him. But then, nature seems about to do that anyway.

 Brian Lenihan Jr should recall that not long ago in a previous post on my blog I placed a curse on him for his budget. I’m amazed, though pleased, that it has come to pass so quickly,

 … Ah God knows Ciaran, there’s no call for that type of carry on, you’ve gone OTT on this one. I sense there will be those who will say: “Ciaran, you wouldn’t like it if someone put a curse on you, would ya” to which I would shrug my shoulders and reply “You get used to if after a while.”

 But I believe in justice and it would be unjust for Brian Jr to suffer alone so I place an equal if not greater curse on his colleagues Taoiseach Brian Cowen, Minister for Social and Family Affairs Mary Hanafin and Minister for Health Mary Harney, as well as their economic guru Colm McCarthy. As for the rest of that miserable crowd at the cabinet table I can do no more than quote Pope Innocent III. “God will know his own.” To be honest, to put curses on all the bastards and bitches in this country would be tiring. I’m reminded of the joke: “What do you call a group of lawyers lined up against a wall in front of a firing squad? A start.”

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Cavan’s white elephant

 On Monday November 8th, I was listening to RTE’s “Drive Time” show, where a list of the various benefits to which people in the public services were entitled was broadcast. During a break the presenter read out some text messages. One was from a social welfare employee called Kay. She expressed her displeasure at facing a pay cut, and felt that resources should be given to her department, especially in the area of countering that great evil Social Welfare Fraud. “Kay” was perturbed about the way in which many claims for the dole were being fast-tracked. To her mind, this was allowing no end of fraudulent claims to get through. (Listening between the lines “Kay” was probably irate at payments to “fuckingforeigners”, “black bastars”” and other children of a lesser god.) She ended by describing the injustice of having to take a pay cut while giving out money to people who don’t deserve it.

 Does “Kay” not read the papers or listen to the news? We are living through an economic slump. Businesses and factories are closing on a daily basis, throwing thousands of people onto the dole. These people have worked in the private sector, and have had to face the ups and downs of the free enterprise system, unlike “Kay” and her colleagues in the public service, with their lifetime-guaranteed jobs. In short the days of the lad doing a nixer with the labour are gone. There are no jobs, not even part time. The same is true in Northern Ireland and the UK. I image that “Kay” is “no chicken”; she is obviously stuck in a 1980s time-warp dominated by Thatcherite-Tebbittite notions of the “work shy” who should “get on their bike” In fact, here ideas are motivated by prejudice; pity any poor bastard whose payments have to be processed by such a person. Most of those who find themselves unemployed need money in a hurry, to pay the bills. They may have families to support. It is bad enough that they lose their jobs without having to face needless penury because the department of Social Welfare can’t organise payments quickly. If it were left to them they mightn’t get any payments for at least a year, and even then they would lose the information,

 The department of Social Welfare is one of the biggest spending parts of government, but perhaps uniquely is spends such a large

Taj

Come back Paddy Reilly to the Taj Mahal

proportion of its budget on trying to find excuses for clawing back the money it has already spent. It does this in pursuit of supposedly fraudulent recipients. No other department as far as I know, goes to such lengths to uncover fraud, even though the amounts are much larger. But then the main reason is that people who defraud say the department of the Environment are not poor people. Indeed they are usually very much a part of the establishment, at both local and national level. That’s how they’re able to get away with it.

 “Kay” is a very sad specimen of humanity, though my experience with the department of Social Welfare leads me to believe she is far from unique. Now if the government really wanted to do something about the public finances or curb public spending, they should, at the very least, shear “Kay”’s pay and allowance. They ought really to sack her and her ilk, but this government, made up of crooked cowards, hasn’t the balls to do that. If they were feeling generous they could send her on a long course of counselling that might help her deal with her paranoia and the clear issues she obviously entertains about her fellow human beings.

 But I think “Kay” should be applauded for her honesty. She has shown that all the hipe from her department about providing a service, and looking humanely on benefit recipients as clients worthy of common respect, is nothing but spin. Benefit recipients are still all “on the make” until such time as the department of Social Welfare’s inspectorate declares otherwise.   Such people are “living it up” at public expense, though I think they’d have to pursue multiple claims to come close to the pay and allowances of even the most junior clerical officer.

 Minister Hanafin must take responsibility for the snarling attitude of her employees, which seems to be so general that it must but the result of training. It’s bad enough being poor, without having to put up with the prejudice of pen-pushers.

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