the challenges of a disabled 'cow jumper' in Ireland

i hope i have grabbed the attention now to read on, about cows or - rather about the jumpers.


the jumpers are not what the cows wear, nor are they in Africa.  (Here it might be cold enough for the cows to wear them, for tonight in high summer i am presently watching the rain and hope my drainage fortifications to my new adapted extension holds.  Its also bloody cold).  we have fecked the athmosphere as only we can do, the challenges again construct of the omnipotent.

the cows are very much alive and well - in little holy ireland.

I do not write blogs to express bitterness, but to creatively point out that its not always well with the world of both blogger and country!

in this instance we just have far too many cows, to jump!

I used this sort of title in another essay published today in Greystones.com and titled it 'hitting greystones.'

It sprung or should i say leapt to mind how difficult it was to be accepted.

Anywhere really - when challenged in any form, or shape.
challenges come in so many ways and because they do, the more the challenges the more cows you have to  jump and its hard, they line up in a row, rump by rump and you are expect to jump OVER not like a hurdle race, not like stepping stones on silky water but friggin get them legs across all them cows all in the one leap!

its impossible!
the legs are weak and unwilling and so is the mind too.
the cows are large and looming and far too hard for a lidl old lady.
she with the lidl butterfies all over her adapted van.  Hence the reference.

why so may cows?
I contend that we as a country love to test our neighbours to death.
are they man enough to be considered part of OUR clan?
or OUR street.
while they watch us and we know we are being watched we try to transcend the stigma of difference.
thats them cows there you see.
No one who blends, who wears sort of browns, or who plucks the verges gets that much notice as one in a wheelchair, one known to be in a mental health system and one who wears bloody great hats.
Does it ever occur to anyone out there, that basically underneath the hat, is a human.
at the verge of life and lawn is a human too, so whats all the fuss then?

I want all to be at peace.
you go pluck your verge and forget the challenges YOU set for ME, because i have to try and prove i am mettle enough to cut the verge too.
I cannot prove i am!
and of course i wont win, of course.
I dont wear brown, i don't cut lawn edges, i cannot leap cows and i have become disabled and once in the mental health system.

so the kindness to remove the cows and maybe replace with sheep for a better equality all round is simply not there.

even kinder again would be to send the sheep to slaughter and let me chew the cud, peaceable like.
what we all want, at 60yrs of age, and thats no babe i can assure you, not with this body anyway.  I am hoping the mind is nearer 6 than sixty and i feel it is so for that i am exceedingly grateful.

I said all this before, in shades of tones verging on bitterness but trying to educate which is utter nonsense for no one seems to think anyone else is normal, equal or better then themselves.

the omnipotence of the individual rides again.
Not on cows at all or sheep, but self belief that the person who is arrogant, a bully, has money and cuts verges has to be better than the cripple and the lunatic.

who says so?
well we just don't know yet, but before i die i hope to find out.
by hook or by crook i also hope to find out who the hell dropped an orange poo bag annonymously on my new ramp for my hopefully soon to be new electric wheelchair?
if this is the greatness of the individual who is better and more significant than the mere mortal here who has chihuahuas who might or may not have erred and deserved this sort of 'staking the albatross' around this persons head as punishment then there is no hope at all for anyone.
would you really want to even try get to know a person who throws shit at you?
now would you?
who the hell are these important people who feel they can and feel so needy to do so.
own up you bloody cowards, er, not that eh COW-ards!