Bloggus Interruptus

I'm trying to be the first to post about having just been on the radio on William Crawley's show about blogging in Norn Iron. But Matty just interrupted me by phoning to say she missed it as she'd been listening to the wrong channel. Then she tells me that my cousin's daughter was on TV last night (TV!) so that puts me in my place.

So what did I think? Gratified that my voice ....(interrupted again! by Zoe on the phone.) Anyway very gratified that my voice did not sound as squeaky as I'd feared.

And interesting to hear the voices of other bloggers too.

Roundabout Madness

So here’s me at seven o’clock tonight heading homewards from Matty’s house. I get the length of the Toome Road mini roundabout and as I’m driving on to it there’s a car driving on to the roundabout heading out of Ballymena towards Antrim. Coming behind this car there is a Patton’s van dropping someone off and indicating to turn right. The Patton’s driver steers his van over the top of the roundabout which I’m already on and is enraged to find me impeding his path. So much so that he treats me to a blare of his horn. Convent-educated lady that I am I just mutter to myself, fuck you matey, and go on my merry way.

Then the other week Bert is on the dual carriageway driving out of the town. He’s in the left hand lane of the Ballykeel roundabout driving towards Larne when a driver in a 4x4 mounts the roundabout, drives over it knocking signage everywhere, takes to the air in front of him and crashes into a fence with bits of the motor flying everywhere. Bert just drove on. I think he was in shock.

The Wisdom of Matty

The other day Matty and I were talking about dogs and specifically about cruelty to dogs. She starts this conversation as we were in the car and on our way to Ballymena,

Did you see on the news that boy from above Antrim who was took up for cruelty to an Alsatian dog?

No I didn’t hear about that. What was the story?

Och! He had this Alsatian and he was very bad to it. By the time they caught on to him the poor dog was a rickle of bones way starvation and some oul skin disease and its hair falling out in clumps.

Oh God! Did it have to be put down?

No. The vet said with a bit of care and good treatment it’d probably be all right. It was likely your cousin Finbar was the vet seeing as where it was.

Aye. Likely. It’d be in good hands there. What happened the boy?

I’m not sure. I think maybe he got jail.

Sure it would serve him right.

Aye. He was likely some wee scur of a boy thought a big dog like that would make a man of him. Wee boys is like that you know. He probably took drink as well. The bad wee brute.

As I recounted to Bert later on there if there is anything my mother hates more than a wee man it is a wee man who takes drink. Just as well we don’t know anybody like that. Ahem!

My ma does have some funny notions. Like the one about the fields.

Being brave and stoical I never mentioned a thing to youse ones about the bloody sore leg I gave myself a just over a week ago. Agony it was. I reckon I pulled a muscle in my groin whilst out walking the Friday before last. It took most of a week for the pain to subside and I was taking painkillers every night and still waking up during the night with pains shooting through every inch of my leg. But I don’t like to moan to you people atall…

That doesn’t apply to Matty of course. I had a right whinge to her about it,

Oh! It’s pure agony Mum. Every bit of my leg hurts. When will it get better? Will it ever get better! Or will it be a leg to me my day?

Oh hush now. Of course it’ll get better. It’ll take you nine days to get over it. Mind you it will never be the same again. It will always be easy hurted now. How did you say it happened?

I was out walking in the fields and I tripped over a briar. I only stumbled but it might have been better if I’d fallen for I think I pulled something trying to save myself.

Out walking in the fields! Don’t you know that walking in the fields is a very dangerous thing? I mind one time I was out walking in the fields looking for a dead sheep with only a pair of oul waders on my feet. I walked every field about this place. Well it was that very next week I took the pains and if you mind right I was bad for three whole years after that! Keep you out of those fields!

That Was Me Told

Last weekend I emailed my tutor to tell her that I was giving up on my course.

She emailed me straight back and told me that I wasn't.

So this weekend I have been mostly revising for an exam.

Oh I Do Like To Be....

bonnie paddling, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Bonnie never dreamed that life could be this much fun when she lived with her previous owners. Those where the days when she was neglected, underfed, got no exercise and spent all her days chained in a shed. In those days she had no fur under her chin for it had all been worn away with the constant friction of the chain. She is such a lovely, gentle and affectionate dog now. And it has been such a wonderful thing to see her confidence and pleasure in life increase. I'm so glad that we kept her.

New Camera?

New job. New shoes. New haircut. New camera...

My old camera, a Canon PowerShot A40, 2.0 mega pixels, 3x zoom, weighs a bloody ton, a blow to the head with that camera could kill someone!

Anyway hast served me well but I want a new one. Any recommendations? My budget is around 150 quid. I'm a point and shoot kind of gal.

Neeson To Play Paisley?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/6472753.stm

Brilliant!

From Poznan to Rasharkin (via O'Kane's)

Bert came in last night after visiting Pearlie in hospital and said,

I feel bad.

Why?

Because I gave these two Polish guys a lift out of the town and left them off at the garage. They were walking to Rasharkin! In this weather!

Aye. Suppose you should have ran them on out to Rasharkin.

Would you have done it?

Probably.

You're far nicer than me.

To tell you the truth I wouldn't have picked them up in the first place. Two guys?

So tonight we're coming back from visiting Pearlie and we see one of the Polish guys. He's marching briskly along wearing a hi-vis vest and carrying a briefcase. Bert stops. He gets in. He's not that young - maybe fortyish.

Where's your friend tonight?

My friend he has bizzical.

Bizzical?

Yes. Bizzical. I'm sorry my English is no good.

You walk this way every night?

Yes. Is ten miles. I work O'Kin's. Twelve hour. I work Tuesday, then three days. Not Saturday.

Coming into Cully we pass his friend, also wearing a hi-vis and peddling furiously away on a bizzical. Turns out they have acquired one bicycle between them and are taking it in turns to ride it to work. I immediately feel guilty about my rarely ridden mountain bike. Of course we take our fellow all the way to Rasharkin. I never realised before how far it is. When he gets out of the car he stumbles and nearly falls. Probably because he's so bloody tired.

The Little People

Bert: Y'know the Wee Manny saw fairies once?

Jamie: Now why doesn't that surprise me?

Bert: He did indeed. Him and this other boy saw fairies down at the bottom of his mother's garden. The other boy can't verify it though for he's dead years ago.

Jamie: Were drugs involved?

Bert: No it was a car accident.

Jamie: I mean were there drugs involved the time the Wee Manny saw the fairies?

Bert: Aye. Likely. That minds me - did I ever tell ye the one about the boyo the Wee Manny knew in Amsterdam?

Jamie: No. I don't think I ever heard that one.

Bert: This boyo, oul fellow he was, lived in a houseboat in Amsterdam and he kept this German Shepherd that he'd trained to set boys if they held on to the joint too long or if they passed it the wrong way. The Wee Manny said if you took more than a couple of drags the dog was over at you looking down your throat with its teeth bared and if you took another one it started to growl.

Jamie: What happened if you passed the joint the wrong way?

Bert: It took a lump out of you.

Eamon & Emmet (scan)

Eamon & Emmet (scan), originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Just because I like it.

ID-Day

Secrets & Lies

I have been challenged by Cybez to share 5 little known facts about myself.

This will be hard as I'm an open book me and don't have many secrets but I'll give it a go.

1. I was born on 9/9/1953.
2. 9+9+1+9+5+3=36
3. 3+6=9.
4. This means (in terms of numerology that I am a 9. And a very fine 9 at that.
5. I think that numerology might be poo.

So is that 5 facts or 1 fact? I think it is 5 facts so that means I can keep my deep, dark secrets about mental hospitals, police stations and Liam Neeson all to myself.

And speaking of famous actors I heard today that Bert is a far-out relation of James Nesbitt. Apparently Bert's granda was James Nesbitt's granda's uncle or something. Maybe it was the other way round?

And me'n'Ganching? We're supposed to be third cousins, twice removed of the famous Belfast character actor J.G. Devlin. I doubt if many of you will have heard of him.

Happy St Patrick's Day

What was Mrs The Wee Manny looking at when she made this comment?

Your tits are much smaller than our tits.

Was it -

A. Nelly's chest.

or

B. The bird table.

Tonight I'm the designated driver so my only concession to St Paddy's day shall be the font colour of this post.

Good Morning Campers!

I have to admit I rather liked shift work and having some variety in my working hours. So I’m finding it strange getting into this 9-5ish routine. People who do it tell me that it’s just a matter of getting used to the new pattern of doing things but I still find it hard cramming all my other activities into the weekends and evenings. I must, I really must, make better use of my time.

Take this morning for instance. This is how it should have been.

6:30 – alarm goes off. I spring out of bed, put on trainers and take the dogs for brisk walk.
7:00 – return home, put porridge on to cook then shower and dress.
7:15 – eat healthy breakfast, porridge, fruit, eggs and freshly squeezed orange juice.
7:30 – load dishwasher, washer, quick tidy round. Feed cat and Bonnie.
7:45 – make healthy packed lunch.
8:00 – check emails. Fix hair. Last minute check of essentials.
8:10 – off to work!

This is how it really was.

7:00 – alarm goes off.
7:15 – get up.
7:20 – feed Bonnie extra rations.
7:25 – ablutions and dress.
7:30 – make coffee, drink whilst watching Shaun the Sheep.
7:40 – check emails, play Blasphemous Game on computer.
8:05 – get into mad rush, combing hair, finding keys
8:10 – nick tenner from Bert for unhealthy lunch then off to work!

Best Laid Plans

Life has a way of surprising you. Way back in October I was giving up my long-term, part-time job working with the dispossessed in order to do something more rewarding (my teaching course) instead. Now it's March and this evening I signed on the dotted line to take up full-time work with a building and property developing firm. I really didn't see that one coming.

And the teaching course? Still struggling with it - and Dear God it is a struggle now.

The new firm? Early days but it does look promising. They are a great crowd to work for. Filthy Mammon? Ye cudn't bate it with a big stick!

Catfight

Bert 1 Holly 0

Bert 1 Holly 1

Bert 1 Holly 2

Bert 1 Holly 3

Tired out

Politics Is A Dirty Word

Nelly: What’s the worstest, horriblest, nastiest word you know?

Hannah: Thatch.

Jamie: All words are great. I have no words I dislike.

Hannah: What about ‘Paki’ – you hate that word.

Swisser: What if your name is Patrick? Then you could be called Packy. That’d be OK.

Hannah: Yeah! An Irish-Pakistani born on St Patrick’s Day. Called Packy. That’d be cool.

Nelly: What words do you hate most Bert? Work? Morning?

Bert: Shite. Nag.

Hannah: I hate the word chunder. It gives me shivers; it doesn’t even suggest that you’re just throwing up – it sounds that you’re throwing up great big lumps.

Jamie: Mot. Mot’s a pretty bad word. It means a woman’s private part.

Nelly: In my case that would mean purse, which come to think…

Jamie: Felch is a pretty bad word.

Nelly: Wow! Do you read Twenty Major? I only heard of that word for the first time in my life yesterday.

Jamie: No. Who’s Twenty Major?

Swisser: Do you know you’re down to your last two teabags?

Nelly: Never worry. I’ll go to a shop tomorrow be stuffed with teabags. Bert you should be kinder to Swisser. Coming up here and having to make her own tea and then we eat all her chocolate.

Bert: Ach. She’ll be alright.

Nelly: So what about the election then? Who’d you vote for?

Swisser: I didn’t vote for anyone. Didn’t get my form in time. Anyway what’s the point of voting where I live?

Nelly: That didn’t stop us. We voted. SDLP.

Swisser: Sure what’s the point of that? That’s a wasted vote.

Nelly: No. It’s not. My father said if you don’t use your vote you might as well be an animal in a field.

Swisser: I usually vote.

Nelly: You didn’t vote that time Brian used your polling card for roaches did you?

Swisser: I did so!

Jamie: Yeah! I vote and I toke.

Nelly: Still never mind parties and policies. If you had to shag one of them it’d have to be Gerry, wouldn’t it?

Jamie: Yeah! For sure!

Swisser: No. It’d have to be Martin for me.

Hannah: Anybody but Paisley. Who’d shag him?

Farm Diversification

Young Rooney called in this afternoon and we got to bouncing a few ideas around. These mostly centred around what Nellybert's going to do to bring the dosh in for the old age. Neither of us has much in the way of pension plans. In fact I just cashed mine in and it's just about enough to pay off my credit card and buy some decent teeth. Young Rooney says,

You could rent out the ground.

Doing that. Money's crap.

You could plant trees.

Done that. Fifteen acres in trees already.

What about a garden centre? Bert could run it and you could do a tea shop. Sell your cheesecake.

We hate garden centres.

Lots of money to be made.

Huh!

Boarding kennels then?

Someone tried for boarding kennels before and the road put in against it.

Cattery?

Mmmm. Maybe.

Riding stables? Paintballing?

Nelly goes,

Paintballing? Lots of fit blokes running about? Mmm. Maybe.

Bert goes,

Riding stables? Lots of gorgeous lassies in jodphurs? Sounds OK. Far better than all those oul biddies that hang about garden centres.

Young Rooney goes,

Aye. Riding stables. Me and Loveheart'll be round here all the time. Loveheart says all those horsey girls are mad for it. He says it's all the bouncing about in saddles that gets them going.

Nelly says,

Yeah. And I can become one of those old eccentric horsey women running about in filthy jeans and bodywarmers with no time to go to the hairdresser.

Bert says,

Sure that's you now...

There Shall Be Weeping And Gnashing....

The Swearing Lady doesn't appear to have got back from the Irish Blog Awards yet. I do hope she hasn't run off with Twenty. But if she does get back to the Arse End I daresay she'll hardly be telling us what that oul goat really looks like. It's like the best kept secret ever. And all the bloggers who met him will be gloating to themselves and dropping hints and telling the rest of us 'minions' fuck all.

Aye it's the word 'minions' that has put me in a rage. Not against Madame Sweary of course but at yerman from Tinkerton Towers who used to refer to the staff 'under' him as minions, as in,

Oh I'll get one of my minions to do that.

That really used to set my teeth on edge. And don't get me started on teeth....

I've Had Some Work Done

I found this little time-wasting diversion

over at Ronni's.

The Pictures (not mine)

mosaic2618913, originally uploaded by tad2106.

Blood Moon

Nellybert’s exciting Saturday night entertainment

The News From Cully

We are harbouring a dangerous dog who ought to be included in the list of banned dogs. So far she has attacked Bonnie, Willie Drennan and Holly de Cat. Only Holly gave a good account of herself. Yes. Gracie's back in Cully as her other grandpeople have got dog-fearing visitors this weekend.

Other news. Pearlie's test results have not revealed anything too sinister so we're all feeling a lot happier about that.

Then as soon as Bert allowed himself to relax he got man-flu which necessitated cowering under a woolly blanket, emerging only occasionally to play the clarinet. That wretch young Rooney has given him another clarinet which has fired up his enthusiasm for the honking hatefulness of it.

Rosie is also on the mend and still sporting the pink bandage. She lost her bark for a week but it returned this morning when Gracie rocked up. Bert got the gate up. It is hideous looking but I suppose it will do till we get one.

And apart from that I'm up to my eyes in overdue assignments so... really must dash!