Posts Tagged ‘life’

Off to a good start…kinda

In my first post of 2011 I mentioned that the previous year had started on a low personal note but had improved over time. This upward slant has continued – hooray! – culminating in me finding a job that I like and being given a permanent contract.

Now the ‘kinda’ good start is this. I was made permanent in this job that I like in a company that is defying current trends and growing bigger almost daily. My new contract started on the day of my birthday – perfect timing. So you can imagine the growing unease of finding out that one of my very best friends is due to have a meeting in work – also on her birthday – in which she will more than likely be made redundant or be told when she is being made redundant.

She is still delighted for me and so am I. Another friend told me today she has found herself a new job and handed in notice at her old place.

Swings and roundabouts. Ups and downs. Hopefully it’ll work out for the other friend soon.


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The Granny

No Grannymar, it’s not about you, you’ll be glad to know 🙂

It’s funny how easily we can forget that the older generation may not necessarily know more than we do about life – certain parts of life anyway, for sure.

Last night I paid a visit with my sister to my grandmother, heretofore referred to as The Granny.
The Granny is a funny old lady. She would certainly object to being called ‘old’ but she’s not here and not likely to read it so what the hey… 😀 She used to tell people that we were her nieces and nephews because she thought she was too young to be a grandmother. In fairness to her she was only 47 when I was born, but was probably well into her fifties by the time she was telling porkies about us and where we came from…
While in her house last night my sister picked up a copy of the RTE Guide to have a flick through and came across an article about an Irish t.v. personality. I’m afraid to mention his name due to what comes next-I don’t want to be sued for slander, lol!
Sister asks did we know that this person was gay? I said no, had never heard that but am not hugely surprised.
The Granny straight away…”What? Who? What are you talking about?” She’s getting a bit deaf or uses selective hearing, we haven’t decided which yet. She was also bet into the t.v. waiting for Desperate Housewives even though it wasn’t on for another twenty minutes. On another channel.

Sis repeats herself to exclamations of ‘He is NOT, sure he has two kids and such-and-such a daughter of his just graduated from Trinity last year”
We try to explain that this, in itself, is not proof of anything.
“Sure he was married!”
But is he married now? No. Separated apparently. Uh-huh…another tell tale sign. Maybe.
She then comes up trumps with the best explanation she could think of…bearing in mind that she is trying to be very ‘modern’ without quite knowing what she’s talking about.

“Sure he’s probably a tranny” says she. Myself and the sister, falling about laughing, try hard to explain to a clueless grandmother the huge difference between a transvestite and a bisexual.

Fun times 😀

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It’s early morning and I wake up. It’s still dark, inside and out.

“This is not my bed”, I think, a little confused. “What’s going on here?”

I struggle to my feet. Hands scrunched into two fists, I rub my eyes and look around.

I peer into the darkness to the bed beside mine. A strange unfamiliar grunt, night time sleepy noises. I see two big body shapes in the bed, I get scared and I start to cry.

My mother comes quickly to shut me up and take me out of the cot I am in and into the other room where herself, my father and my baby brother have slept in my single bed.

I later learn that the two shapes in my parent’s bed were two of my uncles (whom I’d never met), arrived late at night from New York for my grandfather’s funeral.

Halloween 1980, aged 19 months.

My earliest memory.

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Or rather Back to the Past.
What if you could write a letter to a younger you at what you now know to be a crucial point in your life with guidance and advice on what to do next? I woke up thinking of this this morning for some reason and have composed a letter several times over in my head, each one being scrapped as being too scary or too much information or not clear enough for the younger me to take notice of.
I think the first crucial point (of several) I would have to go to was when I was around 15. Not an exact moment or anything but it was after the Junior Cert that life seemed to get unhappy, complicated and scary and it didn’t have to.
I’m going to try and compose something meaningful and helpful and see what happens.

So…back to 1993 then…

Dear Daisy,

That’s as far as I can get. I don’t know where to start. What would you tell a younger you?

I’ll be back to finish this.

Perhaps I should set this up as a meme…hmmmmm…3 things you would tell the 15 year old you…

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