a typical day really

my twin and i were up early, as a visitor was expected.
a young volunteer was to try and fix my bed that had collapsed, failing which two sisters with movement difficulties plus plus, would be lying on the floor, japanese style.
we were left to our own devices.
my neighbour told me 'don't panic' which i was, my twin though was getting kinda excited.
she wanted 'the job' she really did.
but i first opted for a man (do i detect a bit of gender discrimination here)?
would that pass the equality acts in ireland do you think? or, am i as an employer be hauled over the coals.
that said my friends, the man started the job and the woman/s finished!
yes, no such thing as womans, but we as singularly as we could, finished the job.
bought the timber, nails, brackets, swung the hammer, used the teeth of the saw and the angles on the screws just right.
the hammer was the weapon of frustration and a sure hold.
it got done. symetrical, the bubble was bang in the middle, the electrics worked and the end tipped up and so did the front.
my twin tested it, sweating and coughing.
we rested some but twin then needed the psysio, and i beat the hell out of her back trying to shift stuff via the ribs, muscles, knock out the lungs to get them to empty their filthy contents, did it work?
probably not but repetition will.
so too will the vick, the humidifier, the inhaling of vapours and a shot of lemon and honey which cost me a trip to the shops.
and a smack between my ears of 'your sister should be in fucking hospital!'
yes, we use very useful adjectives around here, but you cannot say that such is not without the dramatics, impact and in this case useful?
that was from the man with the tattoos who tried to fix the bed - which we finished.
oh said man put up a kinda prayer flag high on a pole right in the flight path of my little twitters and coo-ers and they were frightened indeed with the purple flapping which didnt look like any feathers they knew, so i guess you would be too if a rather large purple fish like thingy was wildly blowing where no purple thing should dare to go.
as twin and i sat on the swinger for the second time this week, twin did the unexpected.
"the flag flying there is frightening the birds,"
she shouted in the general direction of the neigbour, who, started off the bed repair job.
he, got out his ladder and took it down.
and i suggested out the front where fewer birds pass by and even suggested where to place it, on a high pole.
he then took the cue to tell me he knew where he would like to stick it, but all in good humour.
to which my twin responded. "now now, we wont have THAT!'
it didnt go up the front pole!
we move on to another human being of a completely different style.
you know the one that wear the crocodile with the curly tail jumpers,that type of jump man, the expensive find, with the three quarter length french style green woolen coat for the warmth to ward out cold etc.
well doctors do eh?
and when i saw him at the till, about to pay for 4x4' wood, i told my twin 'here comes R, the guy who said that i was too expensive,' he noted the comment of course.
"yes, mags this guy wouldnt take me on, he said i would be at his door every day, that i was a public patient and he wouldnt earn a lot out of me and it was too late in his career to take on a person like myself.
i wasnt worth this lovely guy time to help me with my health issues, yes next in ireland with the public/private divide we shall be stepping over those on public health care, and not to mention that such like i only get five blasts of physio in six years now, that is five sessions of three quarters of an hour, thats it all.
yep, thanks Ms. Harney for this.
I left for home upset, very.
but not before i went back and put my hand on his should and said twice in his ear, not fearing to get that close and intimate to tell him "your attitude will come back to haunt you, mark my words."
i truely mean that what happened today made him squirm, the cash attendent was a bit startled at the engagement but it was low key and not alot around,but anyone in ear shot would have heard.
i left with the bitter taste of the bitter pile of HSE services verses VHI services, for the lump sums, four wheel drives, posh clothes and a pretense of superiority and especially the ability to wave off those they dont want to help and encourage those with money they will.
tis a grand world we are creating for ourselves.
in this smal island on the edge of europe we have a legacy to rid ourselves of.
greed, laziness, and lack of will, enthusiasm and charity.
to know that two women with neurodegenerative disorders were slugging hammers and not anyone knowing this fact and least of all care, is a bit hard to stomach when you are at the receiving end of neglect.
next time i want to drive this fact home maybe i should get a lump hammer and sock it to the people, especially in the medical profession, oh the wish to, but then prison would beckon and life is short, rich in beauty, which is free and i dont want to go anywhere but to my forever home now.
i want out of this prison first.

Anyone got a vacant hole going with a good strong lid on it like the dung beatle or trap spider?

yep, i remember reading about them spiders - or was it ants?
they dig a hole, deep, and make a lid on it, i think and then they wait for something or other to fall in, through the hole and bobs your uncle we have a munch.
something to that effect but i could have this wrong entirely.
we had a few 'incidents' this eve.
why in the evening, oh why oh why, does anyone know if its a full moon?
anyway, i was to go to the CAB to talk about an impending court case, minor one and my first ever.
i was early so called into a neigbhour from a past life who did brill on the lotto, i mean brill, really brill.
no, i didnt want the money to pay my imagined fine in the court case, i wanted to congratulate her.
she wasn't happy and looked absolutely dreadful.
The place was freezing too.
she lives in social housing and is a paranoid schizophrenic.
 she was too sad for words, and started to ask what was the point of all that money when no one loved her.
good question, one i put to my therapist today about now having a nice home for the first time ever!
it wasn't a question i could rightly answer.
then she went ballistic saying 'look at me! who would love THIS?' she asked as she stabbed a finger toward her body.
she is large and has a strange shape alright, but she is both physically and mentally very unwell.
she is on buckets of meds for all sorts of physical conditions and not helped by psychiatric drugs nor eating far too much and also diabetic because of this.
this woman has been through hell and back.
no, she isn't easy and i have never come away 'well in the head' myself.
she is very, very difficult.
she never receives visitors, has a mensa IQ but well, what can you do.  I visit rarely, she scares me but she is very decent,she loves nature, wouldn't hurt a fly for all the rant but its hard to love her.  she tries so hard to even live half decently really, she is so troubled.
as i was trying to deal with this a knock on the door came, i overheard 'he doesn't live in a grand house either, an ordinary one.'
i asked who was there to my friend,  it was a guy from the 'united left.'
humm...
same gang called up to my social housing unit about an hour before, but without the chief bottle washer, he whom i asked for help, asked him to come and see me etc. but on this evening's visit  to my cul de sac he was invisible, on my last street very visible.
i launched at him. Verbally.  One court case is enough, by a long mile enough. I  wonder if i should actually become a dung beetle.
i lost it a tad, i shout as i am deaf, not helpful that either.
he got it for not doing anything and no one did, not one of our politicians.
none of em.
i was very upset indeed because i knew what had happened me in the past two years.
ah, i flew out with the bevy of polics gone and my x-neighbour shouting, holding my fortisip, which i had drunk there, and didn't do me much good after, i have to say.
off to CAB.
sat there, shades on, a ridiculous peaked cap, woollen mitts and my legs jigging like crazy, that my friend is cos i have some kinda movement disorder and dystonia too, so we have had a bloody good evening.
i am called to see the solicitor.
he is small and a bit deshevelled.
he hardly did look at the list of offenses i was supposed to have committed.
he muttered not disrespectfully but rather nicely, 'yes, yes, well i am in court that day.'
REALLY, i say.
'Yes, i can keep an eye on this one.
I know this garda.'
'REALLY?'
a slight curve of the lips, yes, he knew her.
i answered the smile, "is she KNOWN?"
as you understand, is she kinda 'known.'
'yes, she tends to dig in deep.'
as it was all hastily gone through in the moment, i had to add before i was shown the door, "well i wonder what may happen as the inspector is going to interview her in May."
he took a moment to digest this and with his look i answered that too, 'i made a complaint against her.'
the smile returned.
'and she has made a complaint against two of her colleagues.'
he said, 'she didnt'
SHE DID!
the smile was growing.
'what will happen in court, i mean, i have never been in court before and my twin is frightened.'
'go home and tell her not to even think about it, rap on the knuckles that all, not worth the sweat.'
he was amused.
it appears that this young woman is known.
as another inspector admitted.
she was 'special.'
i ask, 'special?
"Yes, 'interesting.' i have someone in the room so you do understand what i mean by that?'
I do.
now we have the intrigue and the rogues.
one expectant politician never crossed my door ever and i asked for a bit of help in my own personal demise.
and i was told by an inspector that this guard was posted to the midlands and yet the solicitor tells me she in the traffic division.
the politician also never came up my avenue this evening but he did send his gnomes but not himself.
when i asked his gnomes was HE with them, they answered in the negative.
so did the boss slip out the back way, go for supper or a meeting?
i think he slipped out the back, hence two lies in one evening, three rants by me, one by a sick person and a smile from another, all very serious stuff and i think i wanna be a dung beetle after all.

A new day dawned and closed, in reconciliation for the mo!

Tis a topsy turvy thing, relationships and sibling disputes etc.
how on earth do two people do it say for 40 odd years???
naw, not for me, you do get the good bits when too tired for another belt at an argument, forget the crock on the drainer, you are one yourself.
join the enemy, it will get done, dont worry!
but one plate becomes two, then three and we have a fair size of platters and spill to clear.
well the day has near closed, the light is dimmed, twin lying stretched on the sofa with the two chis on her belly, me on the orthopaedic chair, with not a lot on either, due to pain.
we are resting, and seeing the weather temp will rise and so with it, probably my temp too as i dont 'do' nice weather anymore due to sjogrens.
i am sure other sjoggies are in prep for the long haul of heat, the curfew ordered between 10am and 6pm, yep tha it for us or factor zillion block and the japanese actor look or gheisha but i would never pass as one and certainly the muck will stick in the wrinkles and the lip gel seep into smokers and oldie cracks.
doesnt sound nice when you put it like that eh?
how do you avoid it, aging, creams, floppy silly hats, gloves, shades, umbrellas in 101 degrees and an eye squint out the curtain divide of 'maybe today will be better,' eh, sweltering down belting rain and mist and humidity for the crinkle crisp here.
and so the end of day is not about arguements but surmounting the elements of an irish summer.
but as we were wrestling with a very hairy, wirey golden oats plant too compacted for words, we going shades  of red for twin and grey for me i said i bet she was glad she wasnt in christchurch cathedrel right now, and you bet she answered back.
a quice facebook race and discovery that all her friends there are ok and one anyway lives outside so big sigh there, but some it will be wet tears of abject horror and disbelief.
some might say its the end of the world.  the religious kind would.
but this is a natural order thing, the world is small, population mega big, like bouncing fleas big so nature takes over to stop the overcrowding of one species.
no matter what one feels about wars, natural disasters its what happens when we get out of hand and are too heavy for a fragile earth to cope with.
not enough land to grow food to save us too is natures way of cutting down on chompers.
right, when i rant on this on, i read that the UK throws away a third of the food it cooks, this is dreadful.
very aware now that the food in my fridge stays there and ends where it should and not in bins is making me make an effort.
do you have to grow old to be aware of nature, overspending, over using, over doing and all the overs you can imagine?
the frivolous frolics have sure ended.
we get whats called a social concience.
not so on the minutae of silver even ep or plastic, dirty sort.
you lose the plot so easy as you over using the energy there and also overusing the hands and overusing the brain and you get over cooked overspent and spent dead out flat with exhaustion.
so go easy on them rows, you know the ones that make you furious cos of weight or balance of spendature of energy, we are now all eco-ing so to prevent the fights, wash the plates!
moral of the day, dont go to bed with a bad itch of a row behind you.
you will be scratching all night.
lets hope the receiver will have got the message and all are the happier for it!

Little princes Dirt and Dogs

You know, i think i am old!  very much so.
it wasnt a heck of a start, hospital called for a check up and i saw a wee woman from my last stomping ground so i left her home as well, tha ok ok about that!
then called into a cystic Fibrosis sufferer mad on dogs and the ashtray was full of dead ends of role up!  Last person in that unit was found dead there last Easter.
tha not ok I am not ok about that!
anyway she is always very happy, very.
Dog crazy, very. a happy cystic fibrosis lassy.
oh well.
the woman who won 26K wouldnt answer the door, wise woman.
and then it was home.
we had a silent few hours and then off to the magic park i found in cabinteely, lush with crocus, millions and zillions of em all up the avenue.
the sun was low and cast huge shadows, it was magic.
until we met the Princess, small in size, you know the kind, she had picked up a bit of dirt, on her bottom, she had drools too, down her front, her hair was scraggy and tangled, the princess had been a tumbling by the look of her.
then came the mama of the pup, you know the kind.
tight ass, boots with heels, longish hair, when people are getting older you can tell how much so, for as the wrinkles appear the hair seems to get shorter, have you noted that?
i have, and this won was about half way there or three quarters, depends, anyway first child and prob her last, she pushing it a bit.
and the pup was pushing it a tad bit too, streaked and puffy red in the face she wore silver, the fake kind in longish hair, for a pup.
it was pointy on top, it was - the crown of - a princess but she was half way in and out from pumpkin to princess.
If you know what i mean.
the mother, yep the one with the flash lips wondered open mouth if the dogs were allowed run free.
my twin and i looked sort of vacant for the question was vague, but pointed.
and we looked.
'Ann, where is Maggie?' we looked around.
i had not got the message as it was vague.
you know that kind.  half way between my ears, space, the sky and the dogs...that kind.
it was MY dogs she was wondering about actually.
the little chubbies scruffing around on butty little legs.
she intimated that Princess was normally frightened of dogs, but as mine were so tiny...well...she was being very brave!
yep, her words, not mine.
i gave a sort of pale giggle, in disbelief.
ah the pup was being brave to inch high butties.
well if mama felt the kido was about to be savaged why wasnt the little princess sort of scooped or held on to?
if she wasnt to be scooped could she introduce her to the butties and teach her not to be afraid after all.  the were only wee butties and good to practise on for surely as she grows so will the dogs she meet.
anyway Princess with a capital P pranced off with an indignant tight assed mama who swagged off as well, same direction.
then the Princess did the ultimate as twin and i were rightly pissed off with her and her bottom covered in muck for us to see.
she took a sweet wrapper out of her bag and flung it on the ground.
yep, in full daylight.
'Hey, hey, did yo drop something?"
i shouted with a waving hand in the general direction of the brat.
Hey, hey!'
mum now looked round for she didnt see the dumper dump.
she looked sort of puzzled.
I managed to get to the silver on the ground.
"Hey, Princess, PRINCESS, did you drop some silver?"
she stood to attention but a bit sort of flustered but not at all put out.
I got to her then and she didnt really want to take her piece of silver back, the sort she flung that is.
i felt like taking the plastic off of her head and doing the same.
"Now now little Princess, that not nice in this beautiful place dropping stuff like that, thats called liter and you take that home, do you want to put it back in your little bag?"
whether she did or not it got put into her bag by the owner of the butties.
Mama now realised what she had done and she crested the back of her tangled head in a cupped hand, 'ah now that not nice, you mustnt throw paper on the ground.'
yep well they trotted off as did my butties but we did feel a bit sour.
well the magic was lost when you see spoilt kids and one rule for one and another for tudder.
but my buttons were embraced with silk scarves, lassoed really for we didnt want more of the same and i had lost the leads.
we walked around the lake.
there were some mentally ill people, just a few being seriously watched. yep very seriously watched.
there was a lake after all, one fling and you into mud and mire and water there.
so we went home then.
we did look at a derelict bungalow at the gate end.
it looked cute,
we wondered would we get a job as caretakers to magic land, but we guessed we'd meet too many fierce dogs and princesses.
we couldnt take the princesses but probably the dogs ok.
we can always put the back of our hands to the wet noses and say "ah you ok, aint you, you aint gonna gobble me eh?'
they usually dont, unless you whack him when he isnt looking sort of thing.
we went skip hunting and a thrawl at at a garden centre made us sick - with tiredness.
we did too much we did.
we were wandering around the garden centre seeing baby leaves and one could be the same as another we were that tired we didnt know what we were looking at.
coloured buckets catched our attention, now they stood out.
but green leaves for miles, nah, not to day.
off home.
i had a stint on the toilet, yep i did too much.
twin hung onto the computer for dear life, then she made dinner and i thought of the wee princess and wanted to note her down.
you do, you know..want to note these little chizlers down.

the Mood is BAD! that is Irish citizens in general

I was doing my own bit of campaigning/canvassing but without the political bias.
See we have an important election here, one like no other either.
Seizing the opportunity to target my fellow irish men and women i got a flyer done on the social housing debacle for disabled persons.
well there are not actually and will be none either.
So i sat on my wheels today outside the catholic church, not many takers, very few came out of the 10am mass, that in itself is hugely surprising but maybe the get up late here in ireland.
the mood was a disgruntled scroogy grumble.
and i got the 'bahh humbug' thing, but once i shouted 'not political' you saw then a reluctant weak smile and a hand outsretched to take.
many just crumpled them into their paws or pockets, i would say the mood being badddd, they will not clap eyes on it again, for its all baaaad news here yuk.
i never realised how few irish people actually live in dun laoghaire, or maybe again, they are still all in bed.
going then to the open air market produced more non nationals of european decent, hungry, holland, turkey, french and some arabic couples and kiddies. but where were the irish?
when i saw them coming around 11.30am they were the sort that was more interested in their curly good french breads and their curly kale than me with my wishy washy blue flyer.
many had children and overburdened, actually no, noone at this  market looks overburdened.
here the upper middle class gather, looking all sort of 'green' etc, and only buying the best from the grass oil cloths on one stall run by a krishna guy or a buddhist, anyway he had a funny streak down his nose bridge so donno what he was, but nice cos he took a flyer.
I got my coffee from the usual place.  if i go there, and i do a lot in past times, i pick up a latte and a banana and maple crepe, God that is so delicious, out of this world, but i wish it didnt 'drip so' it drips all over the place and by then the dogs are in the scooter basket, smell a rat (maple) and are going wild.
it gets all very complicated at that point.
but today no crepe.
I wasnt cold, but was not warm either.
I had run out of juice and was aware of that.
but more so aware of my fellow human being, as the young voters, and many probably for the first time were more interested in very mini skirts and weird and wonderful bandanas and eye makeup were disinterest, in me, my flyer and they flew ignoring both.
yeh, i said to myself, not so the spoil sport sort of yeh, just knowingly no one wants to KNOW.
and after i say to them "NOT politics,; i can get a taker tells all.
the MOod in my country is bad, very very bad and getting badder!
and the only wise ones to stay indoors on a blustery treatening day are the politicians, for none were out, none.
no great show or game this time round, no rossets or fancy nor laugher, banter and jest, all is serious and they behind doors afraid of being lynched.  and they would be, one and all.
the only brave ones are the 'people before profit' guys, but didnt see boyd barrett around.
once i saw Ciaran Cuffe in black and merging well with the crowds so as not to draw em but enought to slip the leaflets ok.
so  my campaigning for the day is all over.
its an embarrassing thing and i it doesnt sit easily on me.
i sat and scootered back to the vano and drove home. kiss the children (maggie mai and ana) and sat at the non speaking, abusive growling lap top.
yep and i hope to do some computer housekeeping to keep maggie brown happy and that awful guy that maggie is employed by, they too found to be as corrupt as any other irish company and semi state body trying to educate the less able in society, my bloody foot.
but maggie brown is a breath of fresh air and fantastic and i want to do anything for her, which means tidy up my images yuk.
boring....

campaign trail in Ireland,trees lopped and squirrels!

Yes, a pretty full day indeed.
I felt far better, the head had cleared (no not drunk just blinder for week), and i was more sparky.  took the chis up the hill - in some respects a bit of the good bad and the ugly here.
the good, dogs loved it, i love nature, nice people abroad and fabulous day. the bad, maggie mai is an inveterate snapper at bigger dogs, very embarrassing.  Ana can nip the ankles of bigger men too!
the good again is the word out that there are red squirrels up them hills! yes, i remember someone saying its one of the last vestige in Ireland for them and i remember one running scurrying across the road by Victoria Hill entrance, into the Catholic Church grounds, up a tree!
that was, a long long time ago.
further along the damp path with beautiful ferns and moss covered boulders i met a woman who is grieving for her rescued chi, we chatted.
she was a photographer and was telling me about some celedines she snapped last year around this point.
and further along, horror struck.
large trees had been cut, and a huge watercourse run off exposed on the side opposite, a deep slope from the hill and any flooding would have a clear path onto the above mentioned road, this time crashing into the back of Holy Trinity Church, thats the prod church of my dad.
these tree trunks' core looked perfect, not a sign of a rotten middle, yes further down one stump looked rotten at its core but it was far away from these tree bits, and they were very large bits to boot.
and further toward the cafe there was exposed land where once beauty reined of dirt and rubble and a stream below, no living thing, a gaping cavity in a continuous line of fine trees that have been there since famine times.
i was upset.
well i guess they gone now and i have asked one of the delegates who is not making it to the Dail to look into it.
I met lovely sheena and we chatted with her xshizu Paddy, he of the missing front tooth and mighty eye teeth!
we talked veggie growing.
then it was home with two muddy and tired chihuahuas.
but ann was not finished yet and somehow i got it into my head to do A3 flyers regarding the dire state of social housing in the borough where i live, that is social housing for those with disabilities, given that a designed,designated adapted unit for a person with mobility and other issues have never even been drawn up on paper yet alone built.
that was a rush job, emailed it to printer in sandyford, drove up, spent money and whizzed back to the town's centre.
I HATE shouting for attention with blue flyers, absolutely hate it.
what got the rabble was saying 'NOT political!' that seemed to make em take the piece of paper ok.
but oh disappointment when i saw one screwed and mashed at an outside table of a pub, and inquiring of a fat man further on what he though of it, he told me he had not read it yet,and probably wont!
on giving another to a very old lady who told me 'they are so so RUDE in county hall.' dont i know it, all to well as many others do too.
so just about everything put into that day, at the end of which another expense and all my disability done now for this week, i have become a heavy spender in recessionary times, maybe the money will shore the country up for a little longer??/ i doubt it, but i do have a good book to read!
oh, on ending, a woman ran over my bright red triangle sign on the road, a sign put up to save space so i could bring the scooter to the back of the van and into the van.
yep she was there at the back of her car and said she didnt notice it,er, red luminosity, shape, alert triangle, moya my foot.

Everything is blessed

Yes i do believe this, but nil point for humanity.

today i wrestled with my demons of depression and the lack of services and the lack of ability to move and get on with my life.
I do  not want this awful vaccum, this inability to move left, right, back forward or anywhich way.
the isolation from anyone with the ability to help make a difference at the end of my life.
I was so unwell, i had it up to the hair roots,
what can one do when its everyday, day after day.
when can i resume my life please, instead of lying on my bed or lying on my sofa, tripping over things, dropping this, things falling from narrow shelves, things being broken.
a months supply of ceoliac bread that is five large large brown boxes, where the hell do you put them?
everything stuffed and piled into a tiny space with no let up or light at the end of the avenue, that is the 'exit sign'
tell me please why no one really cares enough to give me their second rolo?  not even the last, just the one next to the first.
bed held up with suitcases and all i can ring is a charity suggested by the OT from the hSE, they dont have maintenance men with hammer and nails!
it took the last decade of my life to absolutely feel the obscenity of humanity, the fickle weaknesses in the system.
everyone says 'sorry for your troubles' and 'its awful really dire dyou are in this situation' where the hell is action.
every day on the phone to someone or other to get help, and all it produces is nothing or the words as stated above.
why is this happening to me.
who can give me the hope i want, the excitement in my bones that i will be loved and cherished that my end days will not be agonisingly a bloody struggle.
i really really felt when my dear twin came home on the boat after 40yrs i could have a friend for life, a person to do things with at last, gel with a lovely woman and we could enjoy the last years.
what have i got?
two sick persons wanting the same thing, to be at peace, safe, secure and loved.
when two are mashed into a tiny space like caged animals all everything goes out the window, everything in your mind reverts to chaos in reality and in the brain.
nothing then becomes stable or secure.
the nuts and bolts are not only out of my bedframe but coming loose in the head.
would someone bring me a red rose tonight?
nah.