All yawned out

I had a really bad night’s sleep last night. I went to bed about half past midnight and fell straight asleep. About an hour later I was awake, after the strangest dream. Unusually, I remembered it and still can. I was sat by the side of a pool with a dog. Not a dog familiar to me. Very deliberately it walked into the pool, the level of which then started to go up until it completely covered the dog’s head. I reached in and pulled the dog out by his collar, to find that he had a box in his mouth. I opened the box. Inside it was a mobile phone, the screen of which broke as I looked at it.

I’m not seeking any kind of interpretation of this. I just mention it as it’s very rare for me to remember dreams at all.

Anyway that was me awake for a few hours. The dawn chorus started at 4.47 precisely. I dozed a little after that but was fully awake again by 6.30. I had rather a dip about half past 10 this morning but I’m wide awake again now. I think I shall brush up again on a certain website’s help pages and then go for a walk, crossing as few roads as possible. I believe I shall complain to the Bank of Ireland, about their CSA to whom I spoke yesterday. This will be cheaper done from a public call box rather than my mobile, which means a walk towards the city centre. That’s fine – I want to drop into another couple of banks and look into savings accounts. I won the princely sum of €28 on last Friday’s Euromillions Lottery and rather than see it frittered away, I’d like to see it as the start of saving for the future. I must remember tickets for tonight’s draw.

Good times, bad times

Up until about 3 o’clock this afternoon, today was a spectacularly good day. I had an unexpected visitor who brought light and laughter into my day, where I hadn’t expected it. This afternoon, from a purely selfish point of view, two phone calls went badly. Oh, and I must learn to rethink the art of crossing roads.

So, a big thumbs down to customer service at the Bank of Ireland. I understand completely that they would send out PIN numbers for people to access their accounts by phone or online and then require customers to ring to validate the numbers. Problems may arise if said numbers are obscured by a peel-off strip which, when peeled off, leaves the numbers (I think there were 4 digits but can’t be sure – that’s how bad it was) illegible. I was asked for the first, second and fourth digits of the number and got them wrong. If I’d got them wrong, then why is it an issue if I read out the number in it’s entirety, having already been told that what I’m reading the numbers as is wrong? And why exactly is it a source of amusement for their operator that they then have to send me out a new PIN? And who told them that it was acceptable for Customer Service Agents to show amusement at a customer having difficulty with their processes? If I could face the hassle, I’d close the fecking account and go elsewhere.

The second phone call that went badly is entirely my own fault and I hope that one day it’ll be forgiven, if not forgotten.

After a close shave the other day, I’ve been very careful in crossing roads. If a pedestrian crossing is available I’ve been using it, pressing the button and waiting for the green man, no matter what traffic is in sight. This afternoon I went to cross a three-lane road, with the lights in my favour. Surely it doesn’t expect too much of motorists that they should stop at a red light. It was clearly asking too much of one woman who screeched to a halt on the crossing (NB – not before the crossing, on the crossing) and would have hit me, had I not leapt back. She mouthed “sorry” through her window and drove off, still with the lights against her! My faith was bolstered somewhat by a young lady in the next lane winding down her window and asking me if I was alright. Bless her, she was chalk white. It may have been closer than I realised.

So, notes to self. Think, look and look again before crossing roads, no matter what array of lights are showing. And for pity’s sake think about what you’re saying on the phone!

Eric Roche - Smells Like Teen Spirit

I had never heard of this guy before today. What a talent! I'm a firm believer in there being only so much one can do with a musical instrument through practice. This man had a natural gift for it. Frighteningly good!

Incidentally

Just a few things, with no particular common thread…

There’s a cliché picture of your average Irish person as being very laid back and relaxed. Billy Connolly refers to the Irish as “white black people”! This relaxed attitude certainly extends to the use of indicators whilst driving. It makes for an “interesting” experience whilst crossing roads. One has to look at the driver, rather than the indicators and try to guess whether they look like they’re about to make a turn or not. Loadsa fun!

I’ve discovered that while an Englishman may deposit money into a bank, over here one lodges funds. I haven’t put my foot in it too badly at all, I don’t think.

It’s a little strange. I have never before lived by myself. I was still living at home with Mum and Dad, at the age of 27, when I married. I’ve now been in Cork for a little under two weeks and for most of that time I’ve had the place to myself. The internet and radio (often both together – I miss BBC radio and Planet Rock!) make things liveable when I’m at home and without company. I don’t have a television and am in no real hurry to get one. I doubt that your average free-to-view Irish channel holds a lot more to interest me than the British ones. Occasionally, just occasionally, I miss having one. A television in itself is no great outlay but then I’d have to look at either Sky or Cable and I’m acutely conscious that I’m not actually bringing any money in at the moment. It’s not an issue currently but I came over here with a finite amount of money and there are more important things than television. Anyway, I don’t need T.V. when I got T. Rex!

I rather think that I might do the tourist thing properly over the next few days, so that once I do start work (fingers crossed) I don’t have distractions. Then again, I could write the letters and make the phone calls that I’ve been desperately trying to ignore. There are certain people who ought to know where I am, I suppose. And I don’t necessarily mean my daughter or (soon to be) ex-wife. I’ll keep the channels of communication open for my Elder daughter but it really doesn’t surprise me that she’s not answering me. Hopefully she’ll forgive me one day. I did what I did with my eyes wide open and fully aware of possible consequences, though.

On a lighter note, it’s nice to be living somewhere with a open grate. On nights when it’s just a little cool, a small fire is warming and cheering. Once winter sets in, I’m sure that I can remember how to bank up a fire to warm the whole house.

For now, boys and girls, I shall finish this glass of wine that was left in a bottle and I shall repair to bed. I must remember to blow out the scented candle. On the subject of scents, isn’t it strange how some perfumes linger….?

Good night, one and all. Sweet dreams.

A Shot In The Dark

I don’t seem to be able to connect to the internet for more than about 30 seconds at a time for some reason tonight. One of the benefits of using a desktop blogging client is that I can write this post offline and then cross my fingers that my connection will hold for long enough to send it to blogger. Here’s hoping….

As I have no other internet related thingies going on to distract me, this may be a longer post than usual. Assuming, that is, that it ever makes it as far as my blog!

I ran into something of language barrier on Friday. I knew that the Euromillions lottery had rolled over and went to buy a couple of tickets. In the UK one can ask for numbers for the lottery to be picked at random. This is called a “lucky dip”. I know now that in Ireland if one asks for a Lucky Dip one will be given a sherbet sweetie. Over here the random generation of numbers is called “quick picks”. We live and learn.

I met my landlady for the first time this evening. She came round with 3 lamps for me. Very kind of her. They’re sat at the back of an alcove in the bedroom.

While I was to and fro this morning, picking up milk and bread and the like, I kept running a gentleman walking a Golden Retriever. It’s probably very, very wrong of me but what I miss most about being in Lynn is the two dogs. I hope that they’re not sat staring forlornly down the hall of the house, waiting for me to walk back through the door.

If they are waiting for to walk back through the door, then they’re waiting in vain. Even if I wanted to take it all back, which I don’t, I don’t think I’d be allowed to. I was meant to be taking my Elder Daughter and a friend to see Lady GaGa in London on Tuesday next week. Before I left, I told her that I still would, if she wanted me to. I’m assuming that she doesn’t as any texts that I’ve sent her have gone unanswered. I messaged her through Facebook this morning and there’s been no response to that either. I summoned up the courage to ring the house landline this evening and there was no answer to that. Maybe I should try from a phone box so they don’t recognise the number….I think I may be persona non grata and I can’t honestly say that I blame her. No whining here, though. I went into this with my eyes wide open and knew what I had to lose, possibly.

I may as well fess up to having had “a moment” yesterday when I got back from the city absolutely soaked. I could only have been wetter had I jumped in the river. I didn’t expect to find an indoor paddling pool where the rain had got in the roof, run down the water tank and dripped through the lounge ceiling. I stood and goggled at it for few seconds, swore profusely and then burst into tears. It was over quickly and I pulled myself together to get it sorted out. It just kind of blindsided me for a while.

I had lots of good intentions for tonight. I wasn’t going to waste the evening messing about on Facebook or playing chess. I was going to access my CV, which is stored online and make sure that it was up to date and reasonably well presented, then save a copy to a memory stick so that I could get it printed out somehow, not having a printer. That, of course, has gone completely up the river as I can’t get online to anything. So I’m going to go and curl up in my bed, cuddle a small soft toy that I have with me and try to get some sleep.

Good night, all.

Moments both good and bad

Firstly, I’m more than a little touched by the comments of support below. Thank you!

Now, as I promised that there were tales to be told I thought I might add a couple of them tonight before I shower and turn in.

I flew out here with Aer Lingus. I knew that I was over my baggage allowance (in more ways than one!) I was completely expecting to have to pay excess. What I wasn’t ready for was the reaction of the guy at the check-in desk. On being told that I was well over my baggage allowance I asked “I can still fly with that though, yes?” and was met with a frown, pursed lips and a shake of the head. A shake of the head? Are you telling me that I can’t fly? What do you want me to do?? Left luggage lockers? Maybe I should bin some of my clothes.

As it turned out he was very nice and on being informed that it was the first time I’d flown he charged me about half what he should have done. As nice as that was of him, he’s responsible for a few more grey hairs!

There’s a rock pub over here called Fred Zeppelin’s. I checked it out today and had a few friendly words with some of the locals about Howling Wolf. I also saw some of them starting their Saturday night early with a cocktail called a Fred’s Super Special or something like that. Whatever it was called I remember the ingredients clearly. 1 measure Jagermeister + 1 measure Absinthe + 1 measure Red Aftershock. This is patently absurd and completely calls for falling down or walking into walls. Or as a very erudite lady commented - “Holy sweet suffering mother of fuck! That’s ridonkulous!” The Lady in question is entirely right and I look forward to trying one or two of said cocktails with her in the near future, after booking a taxi home, of course.

One last thing. An unexpected phone call after a hard day is special enough. To hear a knock at the door during the conversation and, on answering it, to find the caller there, grinning, is just magical. What a spell some people cast!

New Horizons

Well it’s rented but I guess it’s “mine”.

I’m sat in an armchair in my new home. A different town, a different country. This is, actually, the first time that I’ve ever lived by myself. I’m hoping to start work fairly soon, although the job that I have my eye on doesn’t become available until August, by the look of things. I have sufficient funds to keep myself until then, as long as I don’t do anything stupid.

I have a few stories to tell about my journey over but for now, I’m here, I’m well and I’m settling in.