Christmas

It's December. I will see my son for about 6 days between now and then. His mother refuses to answer if he can come to a company organised celebration next Saturday. There is a present waiting for him.
The tree has been bought and decorated. He had fun. He was strangely distant on Monday morning, not wanting to give me a hug and kiss in front of his friends. Already, at 7 he is changing.
He made a song at the weekend in french. It was basically 'Beside my little good man was my little good man' which he sang about 15 times and finished with comic timing perfection to 'beside my little good man was nobody'.
He wants a bike so he can go cycling with us. I want to get it for him. But I am too nervous to go out on my own bike on the roads around us....logic says the bike must wait.
He wants a Robot..no not one of those 150 euro black and white things that have computerised behaviour patterns..a real robot with lazers and blazing eyes...
He wants Mega Bloks.
What to get for my partner and my friend coming over from Ireland I haven't a clue. Women can be difficult to buy for. Sometimes they appreciate the most simple things far more than any man ever would. But who wants to buy simple at Christmas.

I try to keep it limited on spending and stress. Its not easy. I fully expect my son's mother to change plans again at the last minute. He is supposed to Celebrate Christmas with us on the Weekend before hand and then on the Monday Christmas eve go back to his Mam. I know she is going to screw that up. She did last year.

But this is Christmas. The time of year when my nerves are on edge as to the welfare of my son and I try not to let him see me stress. I want him to know how much he is loved even if he isn't with me all the time. I have no hate for his mother, just dissappointment. I dont see the point in waisting my energy hating.
It's Christmas.

So it's really only early december but for us it's six days to Christmas and then a few days after there is another Christmas but my boy isn't there so I don't feel too much like celebrating that one.
This is Christmas make of it what you will but for crying out loud enjoy it.

Climate Change

HERE is an interesting insight to what people think is happening in the world. When we look at the evidence presented to us by the few dissident voices left, why do people persist in believing in democracy and the power of elected governments ?

It is without doubt the rich that run the world .

Those who have made their money and continue to make it from weapons and oil struggle to maintain their riches. Therefore we must have wars. This helps the rich in a number of ways. Technology, medicine, weapons, petrolieum, clothing, platics, nano technology, nuclear industries, air, transport, logistics are all industries benefiting from war. So to stay rich and keep the investments ticking over, to provide employment in order to produce, and of course to keep the government in your pocket so you can tell them what to do in order to stay rich, so completing the circle, is the aim of most of the haves these days. It always has been, keep the status quo!

Now I am not unwilling to do something about my carbon footprint. I am sure the cyclone that hit Bangladesh is partly my responsibility through my irresponsible use of and response to mother nature while I was more ignorant than I am now.
However suggesting I don't drive for a day or even all 6 billion of us don't drive for a day, would have any impact on slowing down global warming, well you may as well ask me to cut CO2 emissions by not breathing for an hour or two.

If everyone who was so concerned about the Whales, the Tigers, the endangered species, the melting icebergs, the warming seas, the dissappearing flower and fauna could for one moment look at a bigger picture.

Are you ready ?
Here is my suggestion.
Everyone, I mean everyone go to your nearest war zone and plead with the soldiers to drop their weapons, like the Russian mothers did in Chechnia not too long ago. I don't care how you convince them, strip if you want to , offer sex, but get them to drop their weapons.
Now war is over, everyone including the soldiers march on parliment in your local country and insist on a rapid implementation of Solar and wind power in all forms of transport and electrical production cutting out completly the need for the oil industry. If the government refuse remind them who elected them and throw them out of office. Then all of you who have no job because there is no more Technology, medicine, weapons, petrolieum, clothing, platics, nano technology, nuclear industries, air, transport, logistical industries benefiting from war and oil, all of you can be gainfully employed cleaning up the planet, planting trees and finding new ways to recycle all the crap we have produced in the last 150 years that will last for the next 1 000 000 000 years. So I wouldn't think you would have to worry about your pensions.

Why wouldn't it work? You live in a democracy don't you ? Oh yeah I forgot because it would wipe out half the monetary investments that even ordinary middle class people have right? And there is nothing more selfish than the middle class now is there?
See while you are running around making a spectecle of yourself there is at least a billion people out there who don't give a shit. Well, one solution at a time, I reckon this is a good start to solving the crisis of mass murder and suicide that we perpetuate by choosing to believe the government is responsible for change.
It's easy to do really isn't it? Nah I didn't think so either but I figure it's worth a shot to telly you anyway. See if there is a God or Gods and he or she is getting pissed off, at least I can say, 'I told them what to do, they just wouldn't.

A Spaceman travelling

So we are back from the Emerald Isle. I remember the family of Americans from 'The Great State of Ohio'...the big guy who had 7 great grandparents from Ireland and one from Northumberland in England. I told him no one is perfect...it was a joke and they took it well. I told them what to see. We met them later at the giants causeway, a volcanic formation according to scientists. A land bridge formed by warring Giants, according to story tellers. My son told me after his visit he believed in Giants, he didn't before but he does now. We also told him the volcanic bit so I guess he is just humouring me, bless his 7 year old head :0)..
I am charged up like a battery that has been plugged in. I didnt know if it was culture, beer, language, or ancestors talking to me in my sleep, but today I think I figured out a great part of it. There is no space here in Nice. Everywhere you turn there is a wall, or a cliff, or someone in the way..it's bitty, narrow, and I am of the opinion sometimes the people are too. It's not that I blame them, but there is much less cordiality here, much less looking out for your fellow human being...much less space in the hearts of men and women for the men and women around them. I am not blaming, just observing, noting, and trying not to make it change me.
We are taking it easy now, my son is back with his mother...Myself and Aqua have opportunities to go out but prefer to take it easy. We have had enough moving around today. Music shops, and supermarkets. No room to move in the supermaret. Completely jammed as if food was not going to be there on Monday.
Music shops crammed, each expert in each shop with a different opinion. Obviously the one we go back to will be the guy who had most space in his shop, most time for us and was most helpful.
I wonder why when a guy has to make a living he doesn't try to be nicer or more helpful. Some people just don't get how it works. It was in fairness exactly the same at home. I had purchased a new phone and once I crossed the border it ceased working. Then it switched itself off and I couldn't get it to operate. When I came back south it worked perfectly. It took me a phone call, a trip into town, a shop, another phonecall, a walk down town, another shop and eventually the defective phone was replaced. No free credit. No sorry, no nothing. Just completly normal. So Mr O2 and Mr Nokia, if anyone asks I won't be recommending you.
We now feel spaced out. Running beckons tomorrow, but I would rather sleep. Maybe I might get to swim. No pressure thats the main thing.
Winter is setting in, it's already dark by 18:00 but it's warmer than at home, but only just. My ancestors see me. I feel them... birthdays and christmas looming... time to start making space of a different kind.

It doesn't rain in Ireland

Well we have been here a week already. My folks have moved to basically the middle of nowhere. I know the people who live there think it's the center of the universe, but I have been to the center of the universe and beyond and I promise you, this green valley in Ireland's Golden Vale, is not it. It's not far from it, but it's not it.
The new house is wonderful.
The cousins the brothers and sisters the sons and daughters, all dressed up with face paint, the house was decorated, we sang and ate, and ate and sang. The young ones called on doors, collected sweets, fruit, and money. They were chased by a mythical police man who was called by a crazy old man who apparently wasn't fond of halloweeners.
The difficult part of the trip is over, all those I had a duty to see have been seen. We bent timetables and ourselves out of shape, trying to accommodate the time tables of others. Really we just want to be with those we love and those who love us.
We head north tomorrow, passing close to more ancestors, and living relatives, to see the place where the giants lived.
Today finally it is a dirty day. The rain is fine, a mist almost. Just that bit heavier that it falls. The drops are so numerous and so minuscule they penetrate the all but the most impermeable fabric. ......
The green rolling countryside eases my eyes, my son is hyper as if the energy of the land is flowing through him.... my loved ones are truly beautiful...
7 days here and only 1 day of rain. It's almost as if it doesn't rain in Ireland.

The homeland

It's late. I still have to pack. My darling boy is restless behind me, he can't sleep. He is too excited at the prospect of grandparents cousins and freinds whom he hasn't seen for 16 months. I am writing directly into blogger always dangerous but I am pressed for time. My illness has left me bereft of energy. Even though I am over the worst the recovery period is interesting. I don't think I have ever eaten so much protien, and a forest of vegetables wouldn't be safe the mood I am in.
My lover is speaking to her mother in Italy. I can feel my ancestors getting excited as they know I am coming. (yes I know I could get locked up for saying it out loud but I feel it anyway so there :@) ).
I need to touch the ground and taste the damp air. It has been raining here for a few days... uncharacteristically , but at 14 degrees centigrade in the morning, it's like a spring day in Ireland. I expect us all to be very cold very wet, very happy and have a great time.
After a real halloween we will visit the dead on November 1st I will introduce them to my lover of two years and re-introduce them to my son. Yes I am wacko at times but reason it out anyway you like, it's something I have to do. I am meeting people on blogger land who move me in different ways. I am also trying to meet some old friends when I get home. I will find out if they are freinds or just people I used to know.
I probably won't blog when I am away ......but who knows.....
Keep in touch.

So this is 40?

Ouch, Cramps like I have never experienced from the waist down. My head in under water, far under. I am sweating and cold. I have a fever. Upset stomach. Aches. Heavy limbs. Have seen the doc 3 times. Flu like head. Can't think straight. Hadn't sleept right for 4 nights then slept 14 hours. Slept again today, will go back to bed now. YUCK.

Happenings

I am off sick from work. Some sort of viral infection.
The first batch of drugs didn't work so now I am more.
It's exhuasting.

Finally I passed my driving test on the second attempt. It was Sep 28t 2007.
My brothers birthday is that day.

My meal for my own birthday was a resounding success with plenty of requests for recipies and plenty of ooohs and ahhs for the special fruit filled baked Alaska in both chocolate and vanilla flavors.

I have been gifted a bike, by the efforts of my loved one who got in touch with everyone and asked them to contribute to a common gift if they wanted. It was obvious a bike was coming but how it was to happen I didnt know.
I am very very grateful.

Now my training for a triathlon can really happen.

I am thinking of Burma.

I am sensing things I don't understand.

Celebrate

So here it is.
I am 40. The Autumn equinox is upon us. My friends have come from Ireland. Some of the best people in the world.
My lover sent me flowers by delivery. 41 Roses sit on the table.
A chaman has sent me a feather red, with red ties, no note, no card just that.
I am 40 today. The meal has to be prepared, the room dressed. My son and my friends and my loved ones will be here and what a day it will be.
I have already had my champagne and caviar breakfeast. It is a long way I was raised from it but hey it's my birtday. The shadows chasing me last week have stood aside. People I haven't expected to hear from are getting in touch.....All is well in my castle. Come, celebrate life. Be Welcome.

Down way way down

I am in a pickle. I feel like I have fallen into a big bowl of cowshit.
Here I am preparing for the big 40, looking forward to friends coming over, finally the house gets organised. I have finished all those small jobs.
My ex rings while I was cooking. She didn't say to my partner who it was or if she did, my partner didn't understand. I took the phone while burning my hand on the oven as I was preparing dinner and told her I was doing that and wasn't free to talk. She will be starting a job soon. A good job. She wants me to pay for the childminder when she is at work on top of my paying for all the schooling.
This is someone who pays no rent or charges anywhere, has a car, gets money from the government ( a good amount) for having a kid and to help pay for his education. She is also well supported by her well off parents...
I work, pay rent, pay school. I can't afford to pay a lawyer to get a divorce. I live with someone else who drives me here and there to pick up my son.
I have no problem for paying for the things that involve me. I see my boy every 15 days, so why should I pay a childminder when he isn't with me anyway?
Okay I am sure there are lots of moral, legal, one sided and even sexist arguments out there. However my appetite dissappeared. Perhaps it was to do with the news that a friend of ours who was pregnant, had her 10 week scan and has lost her twins....I felt like crying.

Anyway I rang back the ex and managed not to have a fight. I told her if she wanted me to pay half I would no problem but only if my boy was with me week on and week off. I have talked to my son about that before and he was up for it. So in fact was my ex, but now she isn't. It didn't come off because I had no way of getting to him in time and she wouldn't bother delievering him..Now I am having my driving test, I have to pass. It will be easier. She said she would talk to him about it but she didn't think a week on a week off was a good rythmn for him..She seemed to think the arrangement as it is at the moment was one that suited me. I was flabergasted but didn't bother saying it as she wouldn't understand that word.

Perhaps this is what my friend Pamm meant about living powerfully... I don't know. But damn I have been walked on enough.

Anyway moving on, I get to work this morning and find that my Nice in the US has had the same expereince as my friend here after her 10 week scan. So the bills mount, the babies die and I don't feel like I am living in paradise today.

Preparing for Life to Begin

The 40th is coming up. What does it mean? Well already it's a big letting go period. Not to say the the 30th wasn't either. (The 21st was more of a diving into adulthood, as it was perceived at the time). Now it's letting go, chilling out, recluse comes to mind, but I am not sure it's in a way that the popular definition describes.

I have celebrated every birthday since I was 18. It's the day I was born, the reason I am here so to speak. Without that day, I couldn't be me, and I couldn't have had the experiences, highs and lows I have had. So I celebrate it.
I celbrate everyone in my life at this moment in time and at my birthday I throw a bash to thank them all for making me who I am. But. I don't want to do it anymore.

So this year on my birthday Sep 21st when Ireland play France in the Rugby World Cup, I will be eating with a select few friends. Seated on the ground, a makeshift table for 15 people, cushions, cloth, candels, colliewarrior ;-) hihi. I just threw in that at the end 'cause of the letter C. I digress.
I am hoping to create a relaxed loving atmosphere, an open space where couples can be themseleves. I will serve 15 dishes( I don't know why 15, I am just following my intuition) there will be 15 bottles of wine or at least one wine for every dish. I hope to start early by French standards and finish late.
I have asked that people dress sensually elegant, or was it elegantly sensual? Bring their favourite music, they will be barefoot.(but I am hoping some of the ladies arrive in high heels...well it is my birthday).
Some things on the menu people won't eat, some people will eat everything. It's sort of theatrical dinning a la moi.

I have met some people in blog land that I don't think will be there, but if you read it and you know who you are, you will know you are welcome.

Not being a wealthy guy I have a big edge around wealth, when I think that the people coming for the most part earn twice what our couple earns and are well installed in life, I get a little intimidated. However, I try to keep my confidence from my theatre days, put on a show, be honest, do your best and people will love it. It's an edge.

I am trying a host of new recipies. Aqua and I are having a laugh trying them out at the moment. I am a little proud too so it's difficult for her. It's my night I am doing it, so people helping are a little perturbed I don't jump and shout for joy when they offer assistance. Let me explain, I may not be a genious but I am trying to create something. Can you imagine picasso accepting help to put the paint on the Canvass? Or Shakespear jumping for joy when you offer to write Act 3 of Lear? Well I am not to their standard but it applies. Let me create, let me give, let me show my love an appreciation for those around me my way, and then when it's finished I hope you will have enjoyed it :-) .

My honey has made amazing invitations for the meal. Then on the Saturday night there will be the tradtional and last piss up in Collie's house for his birthday. Besides, I am getting to old for that lark, and I am getting extremely fit, so that sort of night is becoming less and less attractive.

Raw Hide....NOT

Yesterday was Horse Riding in Le Boren. Drive 2 hours up into the foothills of the Alps and there you find a lake, full of wild trout. Peel slowly around the corner there are 15 to twenty horses, all with riders, all waiting for us... we are late. Very late and very stressed. I don't realise how stressed my love is till I see her face as she comes in to the pound 3 minutes behind me... I have already met the guide, whose name I never caught, and the owner Dennis, a US Twang in his voice, he looks like a miner from a Eastwood Western....
I am mounted before I know it... The beast is big but funnily there is no sensation of vertigo... I feel strangely comfortable in the saddle. I have never learned to ride, the last time I was on a horse, was a hunter stallion 15 years ago and I couldn't wait to get off. This time I felt at ease.....
Our Guide.....ha ha what a woman, apparently her father is Sicilian, she was about 25, wild eyed, blue, curly hair stuck to her head. No shower for 3 days..perhaps..or rained on that morning?
I am trying to find our Contact an English woman. I don't succeed, I am mortified we are so late, I apologise ineffectively, nobody really cares, I can't see my love. I don't think she wants to talk to me...I don't mind..I call out to her anyway..she hasn't prepared, isn't comfortable. She feels it deeper than I and shows it. I just talk to my horse, to anyone, who will listen..we are walking....its easy comfortable, good....we are trotting, not comfortable ....not easy, not good, stop woah slow down...my horse breaks into a gallop..Holy shit.. I am terrified..I have no idea what to do. There are some Comedians from the city, they know less than I but don't show it. The shout and roar a gee up the horses for all they are worth laughing their heads off..... Finally the horses walk again...whew....that wasn't nice...my love is not happy... I am regretting the feeling like I pushed her this morning.....I don't want her to give up or in, ever...she's done enough of that. Recently she has found new force, new voice. It is a thing of beauty but I am afraid of her slipping back....she doesn't look happy.... I can't see her now. We are in single file up a narrow almost invisible track through the trees. Our guide calls out 'A droite' the horses duly oblige...I have made an aquaintaince, she is 'horsey set' English, The horse's are climbing, we are swapping jokes back and forth, she is right behind me... we are coming out of the trees, I hear her calling hold on, hold now just hold on, I don't understand. The two horses in front of me bolt out of the tress, gone...shit I hold, I have the reigns in one hand and the mane...Oh shit...my horse DejaVu is up and out like a shot and off with a Gallop I turn I see Jupiter(my English friend) looking shocked her horse had bolted too. I know my love is next but I can't see her and I am afraid for her...I shout loudly to her to hold on, to be ready, breathe don't be afraid. I can't see her, I cant turn the the stupid beast around..and out of the trees she comes, fear on her face, her hat falls to the ground and is trodden her horse is flying...my horse doesn't let me see the rest. I get to turn around when all is calm...her horse has backed into saplings..I can see horses people, I know there is panic but I know little else(later I find out the horses were walking on a wasps nest, and our friend fell off trying to help my love, she hurt her arm but not badly)...and then there is calm...we are off again.. I know this is the last time will we be on horse back and I had such romantic notions of it...We are off... this is a gallop, I have picked up to stand up in the stirrups and I try shit it works..wow...I get it, I manage to make the horse go left and right as she runs wow this is cool ....a white horse flies past a crazed with joy face turns and those blue eyes pierce me..my horse decides to move up about 5 gears....OH good god in heaven and all that's holy I hope I have a change of underpants, I am going to need it if this keeps up...Our French sicilian guide laughs at me, she mocks me laughingly and all I can do is agree... There is no point in being macho and trying to hide what she saw on my face. It spelled shear terror..I can tell you exhiliration has taken on a new sense in my dictionary...
We rode for 3 hours.. the two comedians were eventually forced to walk back as our guide lost her mind with them for abusing the horses and moaning and complaining the whole route but mostly for whipping the animals..they refused to dismount. She was screaming they were refusing...I have a deep voice and bellowed..one dismounted straight away...2 minutes later she was at the other one, the same insane fury...I have felt it, been it harnessed it and learned from it and it was then she was ingraved in a part of me. I finally saw in someone else a fury born from passion that meets pig ignorant laziness. It's a sight to behold... I belowed again, easily, this time perhaps my look helped more than my voice. I took little notice I could now turn the horse where I wanted...... I could make him trot.. amazing. I passed up on the last Gallop afraid for my love so I stayed with her, and nervous for myself so it was easy, so do did our contact who I think is a wonderful woman, another horsey set..... Look at me, the Irish Rebel hanging out with the English horsey set and loving it..Thunder was rolling around the hills now, war like clouds swathed the mountains and the first Drizzle I have seen in France in 4 years fell. I was in Jeans and T Shirt and I was blessed lovingly by Mother Nature. But the striking thing at the end of the day, were the views, to be in a place no car could be, on horse back, hips swaying in time, back straight, and a small smile curling on the lip, all quiet...wow....That and that my love is determined to take riding lessons so we can go again...gidy up...away.
Surprisly my ass and balls are not in the slightest bit sore, I must have been doing something right... ;)

Living Powerfully

You know I was tagged to talk about I live powerfully. It was 2 weeks ago.
I am still stunned that anyone would think I do because I think I don't.
Everything I see described as powerful living I take for granted I guess.
For me it's more why not how I live powerfully but how others choose not to live powerfully...
I don't know what else to say.

Algerian Boogie

I know I have been amiss in keeping my blog. I have had a lot going on and a lot of it positive. I suppose I have been fermenting a bit..I have discovered some thing called Tantra, for real. Meaning I had read acres of stuff about it but never actually done it. More on that on a later post....but today I wanted to tell you about dancing....dancing is great to shift the gloom no matter what time of day or night you do it, if you are down, bang on some music and dance.
I used to hang with two Berbour Girls from Algeria and their music was all that and more. Incredible to watch them dance and do that crying thing with their tounge, at 2am in the morning. Damn it was pretty erotic to watch those hips go, those big sloe eyes, and the knowing smile, they knew they were having an affect and the loved the attention.... The music was almost like it was made to fuck to but they were good girls and I behaved myself as usual.. Can you imagine it, 6 people in kitchen come bedroom, one of them smoking pot, enough money for some rice and some fish and some fruit juice. On goes the music, one of the girls jumps up and we squeeze together to make room, imagine Shakira with less of and edge and more sensuality....The used to say they were terrible dancers but I can tell you it was difficult not to be hypnotised. It was one of my most difficult times I think looking back..and yet if I look back more clearly all I had was money worries. At that point in Time I had 3 or 4 people I could rely on to spend time with and make me feel better or in somecases miserable. There was the American guy the two girls and a Colombian.... The American left, the girls moved on in their lives and the Colombian lady is not good..but I had everything really in one sense without realising it. My french was crap but they helped. I had little food and they helped and I had little self respect, they helped. I just got all nostalgic listening to some similar music on a friends site...... ah those where the days when I had no ass in my pants and I couldn't speak french and cockroaches were my best guests.....thank something its over. ... but Damn I miss those summer nights and the Alergian boogey....

Baldy headed Shrek and the eco house

The Eco Plan.

So here 4 years and nearly 40. Oh my God does he ever stop? He is always going on about being 40. I am not 40 yet, but God I am looking forward to it. Right I have a plan. See I tried to get my hair dyed blond a few weeks ago, they gave me a mesh instead. Looked dirty and crap. They told me platinum blonde was faddy, the mesh would be better. I believed them. My son was with me but still shocked when he saw the change. My source into french Non verbal Communication told me it's because they didnt know how to do it, that they gave me the mesh. Apparently I was less virile and my girlfriend didn't like it at all. So I will go to her hairdresser next time......if there is a next time. See after a month I shaved it all off and now my head breaths, oh yes god how beautiful it is to be hairless. I am balder than a pumpkin, balder than watermelon I am as my son put it, a baldy headed shrek. He loves it and keeps patting me on the head. She likes it too. :)

Right the Eco plan. With all that air getting to my head I came up with a masterplan. It's expensive to buy and house and 40 approaching, mortgage blah blah... well...yes I am. I am going to build my own house. Our own house that is. We need to find a plot of land, and a wooden kit house that suits our needs. Check out what funding is available for grants and basically build the self sustaining house of the future, run on solar power, recycling all the water used, and producing it's own fertiliser for a vegtable garden. Hopefully it will be a place that will have a positive rather than zero, and certainly not a minus effect, on the environment.
Once a month it would be open to people to come and see how to benefit from eco living and what small changes they could make in their own homes.

To be honest it is probably the only way I can afford a house, and probably the only way I can get the EU or French Government to give me some grants in helping build it.

What you all think ? Are any of you out there inventing knew or different ways of saving energy and think it would look good in our house?
Get in touch :-)

Books and bits and hitting the floor.

I have been tagged by Gillette, she wanted to know the most fun thing I ever did with a book, involving books or libraries.
The most fun thing I ever did with a book!
Hmm it could be the summer I read 30 novels
Hmmm it could be the time I used to share passages of a Nancy Friday book with certain Friends....
Hmm difficult, honestly I have no idea.
See books for me are treasures. I have been collecting and loosing books for years...I left a lot of them behind me in Ireland and gave them away.
I managed to keep some with me. In fact as a child our house had so many books they often sat on chairs more than we did.
At the risk of sounding completely boring the most fun thing I ever did with a book was read it, keep it, and then a few years later, read it again.
I am sure there are some saucy tales with books and ex-girlfriends, but I am not sure those type of books qualify...... Well I just read back on Gillettes post and apparently they do. The most fun thing I ever did with those was get off. ;-) The first time was to one of 'those' books, not readily available in Roman Catholic Ireland but hey, being the youngest of 6 ( 5 boys) helped ;-). There was also a certain lady who was interested as to why it was interesting....well duh..needless to say the magazine landed up on the floor long before we did :-)
Now who to tag? I have been away for so long from blog land I forget who comes here apart from Greenwoman...So if you find yourself reading this consider yourself tagged.

Codes

I have often heard stories about how people in china wear red to funerals, or make loud music. While in Ireland they used to hire people to cry and then have the mother of all parties. I am here watching and learning the body language. I had a mesh put in my hair and not one guy told me I was gay(standard Irish guy response). Acutally I wanted to go Platinum blonde but the hairdresser.... well that's another story.
Living here is like being in a rural metropolis. Everyone knows everyones business. Men are men and women are women and the roles are extremely strict. Not in the overt sense. Women can be powerful in business but the must look and dress like feminine creatures not like men. Men must be athletic, strong, standard male stereotype. Bosses don't understand why a guy would change his hair colour.
However living here I realise the non verbal language is very different. A woman will show off her cleavage and be happy that men look at it. She will flaunt her body and not think you a perv for looking. A guy will shake your hand, smile, slap you on the back, and then not bother his arse answering emails you send. There is a Non verbal Hypocrasy that is intensely absurd adolescent, and extremely difficult to decode. The problem in highlighting it is that I can't acutally give a specific example, but if I brush your arm with the palm of my hand to say hello, what do you think I would be saying really? It happens here, but I don't know what they mean.

HOMESICK

What is it about Irish people? There has just been an election at home and as usual the corrupt party got elected and the right wing got decimated,(Hmmm is it possible to get decimated?).

The political landscape has been a strange one to grow up in. It is only now that I am no longer there, that I can define in a new way what it means to be Irish for me. It has little to do with Church or State even though I have been profoundly effected by both. I grew up in a poor, mostly homogenous, country, where usually the foreigners were tourists.

The Nigerians who came to eat with us, who worked in the same hospital as my mother, and the Arab guys who lived a few doors down, were exceptions. That I had contact with them at all was a priveledge and it is only now as I write I realise I was the only one in a neighbour hood of many children, who spoke and ate with these kind and gentle engineers from another country.

There are now more jobs than workers in Ireland, and it is a thriving multinational island on the west of Europe, and yet at it's heart too. Racism is still rife.

So what am I homesick for? My parents are selling the house they have lived in for over 50 years of marriage. My home will be sold. My home. Me?
My friends have either sold up and moved away, or lost contact with me and I with them. It rains a lot. I have never felt I belong there, neither to the religous conservatives, nor the sporting leftwing or the rich and nazi like right. I could string a few words of gaelic together, I knew where to get 'good' music, a decent pint, what places to avoid, and in a second, I could tell if there was going to be trouble. I could size a guy up by his walk and the look in his eyes, I could meet him on his own level because I have an uncanny ability to imitate, and a great visual memory for movement and body shape.

Maybe it is this. This knowing and understanding that I miss. I am like a man scuba diving without a tank. I speak and it is all bubbles, I hear and it is all muffled. I speak English, every phrase has to repeated. I speak French, every phrase has to be corrected. I don't know the faces, the kids look like adults. The adults act like children. I am completely thrown for six in fact. I am a man who is now swimming more often than in the whole of my life to this point, and yet I am a fish out of water.

I live in paradise. I am no longer in Tir na Og, (land of the young),Ireland.
How strange! I am reminded of the instutionalised who cannot function once set free in society. I am more than capable at home, here I struggle. This is the longing for home, the longing to walk into a bar, look accross the room see a complete stranger, smile, and know that in 20 minutes you will be engrossed in a damn good conversation over a decent pint and there is always fish and chips to eat on the way home. But can you ever really go back once you leave? A friend told me one time, the intelligent leave and grow, and do well, the stupid stay. How frustrating for the intelligent when they see they have arrived in Stupid land. Ignorance is not at all bliss, it is a terrible affliction, and yet I am homesick for my cold and damp ignorant island that is Ireland, that is Home.

The Right Has It

The Result of the Presidential Election is that Sarko goes past the post with 53% of the vote. Now we will see if there is a New France or more of the same from the ruling party that is the right. Sego is already giving her speech. Voting closed at 8pm and the outpolls, always accurate give us the result. It's quick clean and simple.
But what now?
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What does it mean when the President elect mentions the opposition and all his supporters boo and holler? What does it mean when the President elect says 'No, we must respect Madame Royale because half of France has voted for her, and it is the job of the President of France to respect all of the people of France?" Does it mean that only because he is president he will give lip service to you? Or does it mean that political views are now as zero, and he will actually respect everyone regardless of race, colour, creed?. Mon Oeil. I could write so much more about what I have seen tonight but why? A country gets the leader they deserve. If 20% of the population couldn't have been bothered to vote or to make a choice they will indeed reap what they sow.
Sarkozy has called on people to support the US. France is a friend of the US. I wonder what this means for both Bush and his war on terror? Or is it Sarkozy's anti Magrebian, anti Arab, anti Berbour, anti anyone from the middle east or a former French colony policy that will change forever the face of modern Europe? It is definitely a strange time to be here. Yes the Right have it, but it doesn't mean they are correct.

Where is Home?

The Election is on today. France will have a new President soon. Those who are voting blank are voting for Sarkozy. They will moan and bitch afterward without realising their refusal to vote against him is a vote for him. He may be the tonic France needs. He worries me. He looks too eager. Strange that his father came from Hungary. I wonder what this country holds for my boys future?

My son is here with us. I am extremely tired. I think I may have had a flu and although now I have come through it I am completely knackered.
My Parents are selling the family home in Ireland. It is causing me some problems. I knew I was attached to my place, my space. Since I have left Ireland I have had to redefine my identity. I had never before had to explain what an Irishman is until I came here. I knew then it was only my explanation, not any other Irishman's or Irishwoman's.
I have watched people make assumptions and crack jokes and completely misinterpret what goes for normal back home. The notion the French have of Irish people is a little like that of those who think French men ride bicycles with strings off onions around their necks, while their wives smoke long cigarettes and wear suspenders under knee length pencil skirts.
Now there is another straw being pulled away. Another thread opened and unraveled. When I go home next, where will home be?
It is certainly not here, not yet. I haven't been able to seep my spirit into the soil and find a connection.
I wonder if there is a reason for that?

The Final the Election and Europe

I missed the televised debate. I have no idea what happened. Why ? Well sick as I am I decided to go and watch Manchester United be humbled and thrashed by AC Milian. No, it was not the plan. But I did meet a cool guy, well I had met him a few times, tonight was the first time we talked. An Italian Guy, a father, divorced, devoted to his son. This could be a good step.

I say this however, if you are thinking of not voting, please vote no matter where you are. At the least it may give you the right to bitch for the next 4 years.