Changes

It seems that there are going to be a few changes taking place in my life so I thought I’d start with my links.

So it’s goodbye to My Lost Identity who has either fallen down that borehole or found a new identity that doesn’t do blogging. I hope it’s the latter as she seemed like a really nice person and I hope her life is going well for her now.

And it’s hello to SWM who hardly ever updates his blog but we’re already Flickrmates and he likes dogs so I’ll forgive him his occasional use of rude language because my dogs swear a bit too.

Redundant

I've just returned from the final consultative meeting regarding the withdrawal of the Novas Group's provision of services to the homeless in Northern Ireland. Two out of three projects will stay open in the meantime. The one I work in is closing.

Nelly Takes Three Dogs Out For A Nice Walk In The Fields. Then They Run Away.

Paddy: D’ye smell a fox Rose?

Rosie: Deed I do. Shall we feck off scunging Pads? See what we can rustle up?

Scruff: Youse are desprit hoors for the scunging. Nelly’s gonna be feckin’ ragin’ at ye.

Rosie: Ah shut yer Kerry yap. That’s all ye’re good for is suckin’ up tae Nelly and Bert.

Paddy: Aye. Ye think ye’re their brown-eyed boy right enough. But we think you’re not wise. Don’t we Rose?

Rosie: Aye we do. Sure you’re a powerful oul eedjit running round in circles barking at crows. D’ye iver catch one ye eedjit?

Scruff: D’ye ever catch a fox then?

Rosie: I wis that close tae one wunst the hairs of its oul brush wis ticklin’ me nose.

Scruff: Yer hole!

Paddy: Ye’ve no bisness speakin’ tae Rose like that. She’s a good Antrim collie worth a dozen o’ ye, ye Kerry mongrel.

Scruff: Mongrel? Ye’re calling me a mongrel? I’ll have ye know my father was a Crufts champion! He served bitches on rosewood dining tables in Mayfair!

Rosie: Aye! And yer ma was some oul ride from a tinker’s camp in Ballyferriter! That makes you a mongrel.

Scruff: Feck yez both! I’m away back tae Bert’s good stove.

Rosie: Away on then ye big pansy! Mind some bird disnae shite on ye!

And here's one I took earlier. On this occasion they did not run away. Well not far. I could still see them. ...in the distance.

An Appropriate Adult

I’m not as easily shocked as I used to be. It’s a fact of life that some people have really shitty parents and really hard childhoods. It’s good when you see them getting on with their lives, trying to make a go of things, refusing to let that rotten start ruin the rest of their time on this earth.

This happened. I was talking to her for about 45 minutes and she was telling me about her life up to now. About the beatings she took and the emotional abuse and neglect she suffered. And she’s only 16 but has much more courage than I’m used to seeing. She has plans and ambitions. She’s not broken by it.

Twenty minutes after she left me she was attacked by another female. No real reason for it at all. It was a violent, unprovoked attack that left her bloody and sore. And it happened while I was under the same roof as her. And I knew nothing about it until it was over.

She’s scared now but still not broken.

And me? I’m supposed to be an appropriate adult. I wish I could have prevented what happened. All I can do is write risk assessments, write reports and offer support but I can’t leave the premises to act as an appropriate adult. I just pick up broken pieces. Except she’s not broken. Not yet.

What's Your Favourite Place In Northern Ireland?

The Levee Breaks is conducting a poll on favourite places in Northern Ireland. The poll is on the sidebar and it only takes a moment. Why not give it a go? Sure it'll give us a bit of excitement after the disappointment that was the Irish Blog Awards.

Middle-Class? Moi? Mais Oui!

I realised I was middle-class t'other day whilst listening to Radio 4. The subject under discussion was birth trends. According to the commentator the middle classes continue to postpone their sprogging until later in life. Meanwhile chavettes & spidettes are churning them out in their teens and twenties. Therefore I must be middle-class. For I have three fine daughters (ave age 27) and not a grandchild atall. Now were I the typical 50+ from Spide City I'd have at least 8 grandbratlings by now and would likely be expecting my first great-grandsprog.

And if any of my daughters should read this don't be alarmed - I like being middle-class.

From Boy To Man

When Nellybert first met Marty he was only a lad of 20 something. He'd just got married and there was a new baby in the house. Despite this I fell in love with him.

Well my love grew to encompass the entire Banjo family and now somethingteen years later the Banjos are among our closest friends. That baby is at secondary school and there's been another baby, Bert's godson Ben, since then. Over the years we've supported each other through highs and lows.

So happy fortieth birthday Marty. Hope you have a good one. All the best from Cully.

Poor Aunt Jeannie

Overheard at the health centre

Your Aunt Jeannie's in the hospital.

Is she? What's wrong with her now?

She hasn't been a bit well. She was in bed for a fortnight.

So it's the laziness bothering her then?

Her Kieran was looking after her. He does his best but he hasn't got a clue. Her Caroline looks in now and again but she's took up with this new boy. I think she stays with him. Anyway Jeannie wasn't getting any better so they got the doctor in.

So what was wrong with her anyway?

Her kidneys. She had dehydration.

Well I suppose she would be dehydrated lying sleeping all day. Not drinking enough.

Aye.

Ye needn't think I'll be going to visit her. I hate her.

I'm not going either. She'd only put me in bad form.

I Take Bert On A Date

I said to Bert yesterday,

D'ye fancy going to see that Johnny Cash film? It's supposed to be very good. Jonny loved it and Joe liked it that much he went to see it twice. Alright then. I'll buy you your tea afterwards. It'll be like me taking you out on a date.

So we went and I even bought him popcorn. Afterwards I said,

Did you enjoy the film? Aye I did. You realise I brought you out to see a romance? Aye! It was a romance! No shooting, no killing, no ghosts, nothing scarey atall! It was a load of oul keek!

Afterwards we enjoyed a fish supper at the Merchant Fish Bar in Linenhall Street. He was only jesting about not liking the film. I wish Bert would propose to me on a stage in front of thousands of people and I wish he could lift me off my feet like Joaquin lifted Reese but he'd get a hernia or do his back in if he tried that with me. He could lift me if I was a wee poppet like Reese Witherspoon but I'm not so there you go.

Feeling The Cold

Bert thinks I'm feckless with money. This used to annoy me but now I just laugh at it. I told him today that if I am made redundant I'll use some of the money to pay off my credit cards. He said,

Aye. And then you should burn the both of them!

I can't do that. One of them is yours!

Well burn your own then.

I won't. I'll just be sensible with it.

You wouldn't know how to be sensible with it.

Course I would.

Bert sneaks about the house turning down the cental heating and turning off what he thinks are unnecessary radiators. I sneak around after him turning it back up again. Meanwhile Pearlie has her heating turned up as high as it will go and has a couple of electric heaters blasting away as well. When it gets so hot that her wee dog starts to pant she throws open the door of her moby to let a bit of air in. He laughs this off whilst telling me to put on more clothes. Picture me. I'm already happed up to Michelin Man proportions. I can hardly move my arms I've got so many woollies on. I'm actually wearing leg-warmers.

The room that Bert and Hannah sit reeking and smoking and watching telly/playing clarinet in is really warm but I can't sit there all night. How could I blog?

There is a downside to living in a bigger house. Roll on summer.

Define Me

Borrowed from Bliss over at The Strait of Messia.

I just couldn't resist it. So here I am Attention Seeking Again.

From Snowdrops To Pancakes Via Downhill & Portglenone

I didn’t get a chance to post yesterday, as I was too busy digging up snowdrops for myself and baking chocolate fairy cakes for Swisser.

SNOWDROPS

The snowdrops are from our old abode where Clint currently squats. Well I say squatting but he has probably bought the kitchen and the utility room by now but not the snowdrop bit of the garden.

God he’s a wrecker. Our wonderful overgrown back lane, which was songbird heaven, is now as wide and trim as a dual carriageway. He has lopped all the hedges and says he will fell the beech trees. He doesn’t like leaves y’see. Says he likes trees in their place but that is not their place. I also got a Stag’s Horn Sumach (rhus typhina) and I’m for having the hellebores, as Clint wouldn’t know a hellebore from a cow clap.

HELLEBORE

First thing this morning Bert and I had business to do in Articlave. Afterwards we walked the dogs on Downhill beach. There are photos but none of Scruff because he was too busy chasing fulmars to get into photographs.

DOWNHILL

On the way home we stopped for a fry at the Sizzling Sausage and then Bert slept ‘til Cully. This afternoon Leitrim Sister, Zoë and Dave visited. Dave was in Log Man mode and spent his afternoon learning how to use a chainsaw while Dede, Zoë, Hannah and myself took Rosie, Paddy, Scruff, Macy, Gracie and Millie for a walk in Portglenone Forest.

HANNAH, MACY, GRACIE, PADDY, ROSIE, MILLIE & SCRUFF

When we returned I wormed my way into everyone’s affections by making piles of pancakes. And it worked.

BERT AND THE DOGS WERE REALLY TIRED AFTER ALL THAT

The Shell Necklace

Unlike some people I can take prizes or I can leave them. However the recent unseemly scrambling for votes for the Irish Blog Awards has got me reminiscing about the last important award I received. The year was 1968, the place was St Louis' Convent in the town of Ballymena. As I recall there was some kind of big push for total abstinence from the demon drink taking place. Sister Diabolical preached abstinence at assembly and it was a recurring theme in Religious Instruction. We were all given little booklets on the Pioneer Total Abstinence Society and were cajoled, nay urged, to join the Society. We would study the booklets and would sit a test on its contents and there would be a prize.

On the morning of the day in question Sister Diabolical visited every class in the Junior school and asked us all to sign up for the Pioneers. We were to take the pledge to stay off alcohol until we were 21. She went round each girl in turn.

Ye’ll join the Pioneers, Brigid?

Oh I will Sister.

Ye’ll take the Oath, Mary Teresa?

Och aye Sister.

Ye’ll be a Pioneer, Catherine?

‘Deed I will Sister.

Ye’ll take the pledge ‘til ye’re 21, Assumpta?

Surely Sister I will.

You Nelly? Ye’ll join the Pioneers?

I will not Sister.

I was the only one in the the whole Junior year to refuse. I’d thought it through y’see and I’d every intention of falling to the drink the minute I was 18 and I had no intention of waiting an extra three years until 21.

Well the pledge might have been voluntary but the competition was not. That afternoon we were all ushered into the Assembly Hall and asked to write an essay on ‘Why I Should Join The Pioneer Total Abstinence Society.’

A couple of days later it was announced in front of the entire school that Nelly Moser had won first prize in the Pioneer Society essay competition. My prize was a shell necklace. Four years later, as planned, I fell to the drink.

P.S. Of course I'm really chuffed that some of you are canvassing for me for the Blog Awards. Even if I'm not short-listed I'll still hold that in my heart as a prize - like a shell necklace.

Way To Go Girl!

I think all my daughters are great but normally I don't blog about how great they are. Right now I am going to do just that.

A couple of weeks ago my daughter Katy was made redundant from her marketing job. She told me tonight that tomorrow she starts volunteering in a day centre for adults with learning disabilities. I'm very proud of her for doing that. And I know she is going to be brilliant at it.

Scruff Sees No Swans

racing dogs
Originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Scruff had a great time today at the Bar Mouth chasing sea birds. He just hates anything feathered.

On Sunday Scruff, Rosie and I drove Hannah to work in Nixt! and afterwards we went for a walk in the Ecos Park. There are several swans living there and as we neared them I thought that Scruff might start on them and there'd be fur, blood and feathers everywhere. I wouldn't fancy his chances with a big Daddy swan. But I needn't have worried about it for Scruff didn't 'see' the swans. He trotted past them with his eyes averted. Then a few yards down the path he started a powerful narration of barking. There he was dancing around a hawthorn tree like an eedjit and barking his head off at a wee thrush that was paying him no mind at all.

Gloomy Tuesday

Yesterday evening I google-imaged Bernadette Devlin McAliskey to see how she's looking these days. I have to say - not good. Depressing that, as according to Carrie I look like her.

Today was the first of the three consultation meetings that the Novas Group must hold before making us redundant.

After the meeting I took Matty to Ballyronan to visit her sister, who is in the nursing home there, and I couldn't bring myself to go in. I went for a walk instead. I cannot bear hospitals and nursing homes right now.

I'm depressed about yesterday's vote in parliament. Soon they'll be micro-chipping us as we emerge from our mother's wombs. For the good of our health obviously. Except it will be much more likely to be for the good of someone else's financial health.

I had a nasty turn earlier when Interflora delivered Jamie's floral 'token of love' to Hannah. The delivery person looked like a plain clothes cop and, because he barked "Does Hannah Moser live here. I have this for her..?" in such a stern way, I thought he was there to arrest her. Of course I only remembered later that the CID always travel in pairs.

And I've been feeling ever so guilty about calling Ganching 'Elsie' way back then when we were younguns. Did I ever tell youse that she once threw a tin of beans at me? Mind you I probably deserved it. Matty must have thought so too for Ganching didn't get into trouble for smashing the window. I ducked y'see.

Biscuit Or Cake

I'm told that this meme originated from here.

• Place of Birth? Tesco’s Superstore, Antrim.
• Qualifications? 2:2 Social Admin & Policy, ECDL, First Aid, Driving Licence, handful of Os & As, 11+
• Without using the words boring or hate describe your role at ‘The Work’? I’m a support worker on paper, a dogsbody and bouncer in reality.
• Passion or strength within web development? A supportive role only.
• What do enjoy most about your job? Rarely boring.
• Non-relevant qualifications? All my qualifications are relevant to me
• Other interests? Blogging, walking, dogging (sorry I mean dogs) and eating.
• Your best selling point? Experience
• Famous person you admire and respect? The Queen for queenliness
• If you had one wish granted what would it be? As someone else has probably bagged world peace I’d quite like to be taller please. Maybe 5’6”?
• Favourite colour? Rainbow.
• Most embarrassing moment? Getting in a physical fight with another woman
• Jaffa Cake, biscuit or cake? Biscuit

A Culchie's Day Oot

Yesterday Hannah and I travelled to Belfast in one of those swanky new trains. Of course the last time I travelled by rail it was on a parish excursion to Portrush on a steam train so it was quite an experience for me*. Hannah was affronted when I got stuck in the automatic sliding doors but at least I was able to get out of the train at Central Station unlike her the other night when she sailed on to Ballymoney and had to get Bert to come and rescue her out of Joey's (sob) Bar. I wasn't the only thing getting stuck as the ticket collector's machine was stuck as well and we all had to pay when we got off the train. I sent Hannah to the bathroom so we only had to pay one fare which paid NIR back nicely for taking an unwilling Hannah on a journey to Ballymoney.

Our reason for travelling to the capital city of Norn Iron was to meet lots of sophisticated blogging people and Beowulf**. I was worried that I wouldn't recognise anyone even though I'd seen most of their photos. But how wrong could I be? The first person I spotted was Marc. No converse trainers but who could mistake that glowing complexion, those flowing locks and that very dressy moleskin coat. Then along came the very youthful looking Ed who was also instantly recognisable despite not wearing blue (it was beige if you must know). I forget what sort of trousers he was wearing but that is probably a good thing for a woman of my years and station shouldn't be looking at a man's trouser region. I don't actually remember anybody's trousers except Hannah's which kept falling down but only when she was walking about..*** Stephen was wearing a red weatherproof jacket and a tee-shirt which Marc rather unkindly sneered at but nobody minded except Stephen who is a sensitive boy with dark Byronic looks and a dimple. Marc sneered a lot but he does it in such a jolly way and he is so shiny and clean that no one minds a bit.

I cannot tell you what Carrie looked like as it is a secret. But she is a very nice woman and not a bit scary like I thought she'd be****

To sum up - a very enjoyable and interesting afternoon. And thanks to Carrie for the tea and to Marc for the lift home.

*This is a lie
**That's you sorted for the chin photo
*** That's actually true.
****Little old lady indeed!

The Avoidance Of Multichinnery

Expressions
Originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

This post is for the attention of Beowulf.

Here are a round dozen Nellypix and as you will see there are also 12 Nellychins. Had Beowulf taken these pictures there would be 24-30 chins being sported. The secret of dealing with the multichinned is to shoot* from above.

*Shoot with a camera that is.

First Things First

I've been instructed to update pronto by Ganching so here goes. Obviously I cannot get to what she really wants to hear about, the meeting of great minds that took place in Belfast on Saturday afternoon, without first writing about the rather more homespun affair that was Pearlie's 80th birthday party.

First a little background. To meet with the Great Intellects on Saturday I had to rejig my Spide City hours a little. Added to this I had extra shifts to do as Ursa Minor is swanning about Italy with her big blond polisman. As if extra hours weren't enough I had a bit of a tough call in the early hours of Friday with a serious Spide invasion and lost a bit of sleep. These new security cameras are the best laugh for I was able to amuse my colleagues the next day with the CCTV footage of Nelly in full folded-arm targe mode showing the skitters the door. So by the time I got home on Friday evening I was pretty tired. And me with four loaves of sandwiches to make. But never mind. A nice glass of wine soon revives the flagging spirits. The picture above shows the difference a few glasses of wine can make to the presentation of a nice neat sandwich.

Pearlie did wear her Happy 80th Birthday badge and despite the customary grim face in most of the photos she definitely had a fantastic night. It was her first birthday party ever but I think it is going to have to be an annual event now that she's realised what fun parties are. One thing she'd requested as well as useful presents and Bacardi Breezers was live music so we gathered up this seedy looking pair who for one nightonly were called the Happy Birthday Baldy Boys String Band.

She looks bloody scarey with that knife.

Happy Birthday Pearlie Blue!

Thanks to the Banjos for music and cake. Thanks also to Margaret for being a loving and attentive niece and Hannah for cleaning the house and buying Pearlie a much needed new apron. Thanks to John for music and Ploppy Pants, Swisser and Clint. And thanks to me for fairy cakes and sandwiches both sober & drunk.