Well, readers, it’s been a while.  I’ve been busy, well if you consider drinking vodka and laying in bed, contemplating my naval busy.  I’ve had two visitors to the site this month, which makes me think they must have been very bored at the time.

Still working away at the novel; writing about people getting dismembered really puts me in a good place psychologically; it cheers me up no end when I’m feeling a bit down.  38,600 words done so far so about 70% of the way; still plenty of pages left for more sex and violence.  Life really is all about the little things.

So, as you may have gathered from the title I did some training on competency-based interviews during the week and I decided I’d share my day and any insights I gleaned.  Mostly, because I’m sick today and have feck all else to do.

So, I went to the training with a female work colleague we’ll call “N” because I’m pretty sure she’ll want to remain anonymous, okay she’s been pretty adamant that she’s not to appear in my writing.  So glad that the problem is solved.

For those who haven’t come across this new form of an interview, lucky you.  Apparently, it’s all in vogue these days.  So, for instance, you’re asked to discuss something like “Your Effectiveness through People”.  Unfortunately, if you want to do well you can’t just say that you don’t like people and for them to ask you a sensible question; and they expect you to be honest too!

The trainer started the class by saying Irish people can be shy and don’t like talking themselves.  This was never a problem for me, but I guess not everyone is so great like me either.

A few minutes in, she mentioned there are lots of good examples on the internet, but we’d be better using our own unique ones.  Eh, I have something called a life, a few minutes on google would have been grand.

So, then we had to do our own answers and fair dues N came up with a really good one.  I was quite impressed and told her I might use it myself.  Well, she looked at me like a lost puppy that I’d given a really hard kick.  Just as well I have a very undeveloped conscience.  Like, what did she think I was doing there?

Anyways I told her I wouldn’t use it but she didn’t believe me, this is a real problem I face when people know me well.  This must be some sort of competency in itself.  She pointed out that I had something similar before, I didn’t realize we kept a tab on such things.

So, after a few hours, it finally all came to an end.  Fortunately, the appraisal form only required a few ticks – tick here, tick there, tick everywhere.

Till next time..

It is with great excitement that I await the Dublin v Kerry All Ireland gaelic football final tomorrow.  People say I’m from Westmeath, who rarely win anything but I like to point out that I was born in Dublin, especially since about four years ago.

It fits much better with my brand to associate with winners and they will win.  So now that I have rediscovered my ancient Dublin roots, I am ready to cheer against the borderline evil culchies from Kerry.  Some would even call them animals, but that’s a tad too far for me.

To really get into the spirit of the occasion I’ve littered needles around the house and made sure that there is a plentiful supply of coke in the bathroom (I’ve heard that coke is the height of fashion up there these days, but I never liked the taste that much).  You know, to make it feel real Dubliny.  If anyone wants to go the toilet during the match, they have to hold on for a half hour first just like in Croker.  Also, everyone must come in to the television room five minutes after it has started, like all authentic Dublin fans

I’m also going to say “How ya” to absolutely everyone and if anyone irritates me I’ll tell them to go back to culchieland.  It will be like I’m in da heart of da big smoke.

But when they win, that’s when the fun really starts.  As everybody knows Dublin people are great winners and that’s a fact that must be pointed out to absolutely everyone.  Afterall not everyone can be a winner.  So, I will be sending out lots of emails Monday saying “Up da Dubs” Monday to all the culchies.

I’m thinking of painting my wheelchair blue but that could get a bit messy.  No, maybe I’ll just buy  a flag or something.

In many ways I am a very fortunate guy even apart from my good looks and good breeding, I live close enough to where I work, that if the weather is not too inclement, I can go back and forth in my wheelchair.  Part of this journey takes me through the town park each day.

I get to see during the warmer months of the year the kids playing on the swings full of happiness and joy.  The parents’ faces do be full of pride and hope for the future.  lt warms my heart that in just a few short years all that happiness, all that joy will meet and be snuffed out by the drudgery of modern life.

Yes, if only they knew that after they get through all that english grammar and times tables, they can look forward to becoming a clog in the capitalist system working long hours to further boost all important bank profits; it really is such a beautiful world.

The park also has a lovely pond during the winter, but one suffocated by algae during summer.  Perhaps it’s so people, maybe even the fish will pay to go to the swimming pool.

There are works going in the town at the moment widening many of the footpaths.  Let me say categorically, it has not been done on health and safety grounds because of me.  Any such accusation is libellous and will be fought in the courts.

I’ve only had a handful of crashes.. I swear, that old lady that died last year practically jumped in front of me!  And that toddler wasn’t looking where he was going.  Honestly, people these days.

I do feel that these works are causing traffic logjams around the place and now people are trying to make up a bit of time on some of the orbital roads but don’t worry I have a plan – speedbumps.  Yes I’ll write in to the County Council tomorrow, it will make me so popular in the community.

It is almost pitch black, moonlight the only illumination; there is no wind or sound of any description.  Being a child, still not quite eleven years of age, I should surely have been home some hours before now.  The parents would be annoyed.

Effortlessly I glide towards the house.  There is no sound from my wheelchair, nor do I feel the bumps of any rough terrain.  I briefly wonder how I will enter but am surprised to find that the front door is slightly ajar; a sense of fear suddenly grips me but I push the door open and enter.

The lights are off and there doesn’t seem to be anybody there.  I roar out “Mam,” then “Dad” but there is no response, not even a murmer.

I proceed to go down the long hall; all the doors are wide open but there’s nobody in any of the rooms.  I grow more nervous, there is something very wrong.  Somehow, i know that there will is evil in the house that I must flee.

Without hesitation, I go back out the front door and head towards the school field at the back of the house, I know I’m in danger but I have to find my family.

And I do.  There they all are perfectly aligned on the grass; their eyes wide open with blood gushing from their dead bodies.

There is no time to mourn their loss, even shed a tear as someone or something is behind me.  I go as fast as I can but it is no good, something is reaching out for me ..

I awaken in a panic to the sound of the wind howling outside.  It was just a dream, just a dream..  At least that’s what I hope.

(Inspired by a true nightmare)

This is a mysterious universe full of unfathomable conundrums.  Some people spend their entire lives trying to understand it that much better.  The latest theory I was reading about states that there is a fifth dimension leading to an universe that will never end as time itself is not what we think we think of it as.

Allegedly, if you could hypothetically view the universe from this fifth dimension, you could view everything that happened from the very beginning to the very end with all the possible different things that could have happened as well.

Or maybe we live in a universe with eternal inflation.  I kind of like the idea that this might be the trillionth time I’ve written this post.

But I don’t concern myself with such things, no I have much more important things to probe with my intellect.  Like what to do if a fly flies into your vodka or other alcoholic beverage and you can’t take it out.  I’m sure this has happened to almost everyone that matters (drinkers) at some stage.  Non drinkers would just never understand, alcohol is a precious resource, kind of like oil.  It doesn’t matter that you’re going to have a hangover, every drop is precious.

I’m pretty sure that we’d all agree if it was just a little midget we’d press ahead.  You probably won’t even feel it in your mouth, so just think of something else?

But what if it’s a big one?  Do you watch closely hoping not to drink it?  Life is so complicated.

I think I’d draw the line at a wasp.  I wouldn’t even have a taste but maybe I’m too squeamish?

Where should the line be drawn?

I woke to a beautiful, bright July Saturday morning and as usual went went down to have the breakfast in the kitchen with my Mam and the auld fella.

“Did he tell ya that he has to go down to the Garda Station”

“No, why?” she said looking at me half interested.

This was an excellent time to gauge what she really thought of me.

“Guess,” I replied, “maybe it’s for murder or drugs or being a pimp.  You have so many options, maybe even fraud or racketeering.”

“I don’t know.”

Then I explained to her that the Gardai were having an open day and I was heading down as it might help with the novel I’m writing.

“Oh,” she replied somewhat disappointed.

Half an hour later, I was down at the station with the Da.  In truth it was not what I expected ; I expected to see big, brawny, ugly Gardai, who would put the fear of God into me.  But they looked like ordinary people, except in uniform.  Some of the female ones looked quite pretty.  There was a carnival atmosphere, with lots of kids running around and their helicopter being the star attraction.  I just don’t how this was going to deter the kids from criminality, they looked way too happy.

I went over to have a gawk at the helicopter, always good to do a bit of reconnaissance.  It was impressive but they’d never get me and the wheelchair into it, I can now sleep that bit more soundly at night.

They had a riot stall where they seemed to be trying to teach the kids about where to hit them, when they were in full body armour.  It was nice to see them giving the future hooligans a bit of an education.

Then it was on to the drugs stall where I have to say they were so helpful.  Since college, I’ve lost touch with the drugs world.  But they had each of the drugs there and what they were called, it was just a pity I didn’t bring my gun with me and I would have been minted.

So, I learned that if I want to become a drug dealer I need to learn about this thing called “bitcoin”, which you can use to buy the drugs on something called the dark web, wherever that is.  They even told me that there’s not much fentanyl or crystal meth in Ireland, so there is huge growth potential.

You also need a good mix, as seemingly you need both uppers and downers.

They said they would need legal advice about whether a warrant would be required to search a wheelchair for drugs.  I was explaining to them that wheelchairs have improved so much, it would be a great way to transport them.

My Da then asked useful questions about the heat required for the hash.  Fair dues, he always was a bread and butter man.

The only thing that was missing from the open day was a pimp and whore section.  I’m sure they could give out lots of advice about that too.  Maybe I’ll write in to them with the suggestion..

Till next time.

With such busy lives, it is in ways no surprise that down time or solitude has become revered and something to be cherished.  In particular, concepts such as “mindfulness” have become mainstream.

People even go on retreats to be one with themselves.  But has it now not all gone too far.  Like everybody will surely have enough time with themselves when they’re dead!  They’ll have eternity to do absolutely nothing; guess there is a heaven for some people after all.

But that all being said, I guess everybody needs a few moments to themselves even me, I just don’t go on an expensive holiday to do so.  No, I just go and sit on the toilet.  It really is one of life’s great pleasures.

While there, you can dare I say contemplate the issues of the day, such as global warming.  In this case you can even add to the global problem at the very same time.  Oh, the simple pleasures.

If your in a civilized household you should be left in peace during this precious time, kind of like a holiday time.  If not stand your ground and defend your territory.

Another thing that has been on my mind recently is this Women’s World Cup.  Unfortunately, it appears men are not even the best at football anymore.  Well, not as good as the American women anyway.  No wonder the men don’t play it over there, they are too afraid.

I fully expect them to beat the Netherlands, just hope they are not in tears at the end like the Thai’s were.

Till next time and don’t forget to check some of my previous blog posts.

Well the day finally came and I have now passed over the 40 threshold.  There was a time and not too long ago when I considered 40 to be positively ancient and part of me still does.  Like imagine I was born forty years ago before even Sky television, how did I even survive back then?

I often heard people say 40 is the new 30 and smirk quietly to myself that those people were utterly delusional and just trying to make themselves feel better but now I’ve got my comeuppance!

Somewhat somberly, when I heard about gangland shootings and people over 40 died, it was like “ah well”.  This has to change.  Like an epiphany I now realize 40 year old lives do matter, much more than I would have previously thought even a week ago.  Young people need to care!

The day itself went well, I have all my photos ready for “Instagram” but will anybody bother to look at them?  Like I don’t think I ever “insta’d” the photos of someone that old.  Something has to change but I just can’t put my finger on it.  Maybe I should go naked in them or something.

At least we’ve had a bit of good weather recently.  I hear they’re complaining over in France.  Like honestly a bit of heat never killed anyone; guess they just love to complain.  Bring on the global warming I say, I can’t wait.  Just so long as it stays under 27 degrees celsius, of course.

Anything hotter and I just don’t enjoy my vodka..

Till next time – Leave a message with your email if you wish to subscribe!

I’m sure that everyone in the world has heard of the January blues, but in Mullingar we have the June blues.  Every year without fail we look forward to a nice long, global warming helped thing that we call “summer”.  A mythical concept around here but it really did happen once or twice in the past, we’re told.

But what we get the vast majority of years is something completely different.  It’s like the apocalyptic world portrayed in the Matrix where the sun has been permanently blocked by heavy cloud cover.  But even there, it wasn’t raining all the time!

This naturally leads to depression from the June gloom as we call it.  The only cure is to leave Mullingar and go anywhere else.  It’s the foreigners I feel sorry for; they must wonder where things went so wrong.

It is now the 15th of June.  The most exciting thing about today is that there was briefly sunlight for like a whole five minutes.  The excitement was somewhat tempered when someone from Costa del Roscommon told me they have had lovely weather all week, only an hours drive away.  That was what I really needed to hear..

The Mullingar weather station is the coldest in the country, I checked.  The best way to survive in a place like this is to learn to enjoy other peoples’ misey.

This is almost certainly my last post before my fortieth.  As you all know in the social media age, it’s all about projecting the right image.  So for the next few days, I’m going to be busy setting up fake facebook accounts so I can send myself hundreds of happy birthday messages.  Remember these days, it’s all about quantity.

Then there’s the “party” that I need to document, which was always going to cause problems but I have a plan.  There’s now a place in Dublin to do “fake” parties for social media.  You have a few beverages beforehand so that you look appropriately jarred, head into this place where strangers take photos with you.  It really is a beautiful world.

Till next time..  Mullingar I love you really (or at least I stayed).