happy (would have been) 105th birthday Dr Seuss

Sometimes I may not tell you how much I appreciate you and your ridiculous rhymes - but I know you know in your heart that, Theodore Geisel, or do you prefer Dr Seuss, I salute you

i'm not a young as i once was

Another year older - and for a change I think actually this time I do feel it.

Today i am 32. I can no longer kid myself that I am anything other than a thirty-something. As a child I assumed by this stage I would have a permanent career, a mortgage, a wife, a dog, and at least two kids. I assumed I would be driving sensible cars and wearing sensible shoes.

What I didn't assume is that I would have the aches and pains of an old man.

My ankle is still hurting - I can walk normally but the idea of running, jumping, even cycling, fills me with concern. As soon as I put any strain on the ankle it swears at me and threatens dire punishments.

My pupils say it's cause I'm old. The PE teacher says its 'cause I never gave it a chance to heal and "what do you expect if you don't rest it. You're lucky you can walk on it." The lady who cleans my classroom says its just the cold weather. But if it isn't then she has the cure.

Yesterday she happened to see me as I was leaving and asked how my ankle was. I haven't been talking to her for almost a month. I told her it was ok but I still felt a bit of pain. She hmmed with the knowing hmm of an experienced practitioner. "What you need is some....." I say '.....' because my mind was already drifting off to the marking I had to do that evening and i don't actually know what it was that she was prescribing. But i must have been nodding encouragingly for five minutes ago she arrived at my door with two bottles. They would fix me she said - and when I made some comment about being willing to try anything she fixed me with an icy look and said "They WILL fix you."

So now I'm scared. Scared to try them - and scared what she'll do to me if I don't. Neither of the bottles contains its original contents. The Convent Garden Bath Soak bottle contains a fruity smelling gel that I am apparently supposed to bath in for as long as possible. The little foot softening cream jar is filled with a spicy concoction that I am to rub on the affected part.

The concern she showed for the sub teacher who leaves a messy room everyday for her to clean and smiles gormlessly when she is talking to him is touching. I feel like I want to repay her thoughtfulness - but my fear of her... well

I'll let you know if the smelly stuff works.

terrible twos

It was two years ago that I first set this up.

I wanted to think about all the things that have changed in those two years – but I really struggled. The war in Iraq still rages, Labour are still in power here, the US President is still a Republican, I still job-hop to Olympic standards, China is still an evil dictatorship who won’t add job-hopping to the Olympics, I am still saving for that deposit on a home I will never be able to afford, I still spend more on coffee than most people spend… well, on deposits for their homes. No, the last two years haven’t been the most monumental – well, as far as my life goes anyway.

I know there are people out there who have had life changing events in the past twenty-four months. I have friends who got married, friends who lost loved ones, friends who got new careers, friends who bought homes, friends who sold homes and bought boats, heck I have a brother who is now a father and can you get more life changing than that? But for me, looking at it as I do from the bottom of my coffee mug, life goes on as was.

The next two years will undoubtedly change that. I would be very surprised if I am writing an entry with a similar theme in 2010. If I do you have my permission to stop reading the new entries and just re-read some of the old ones from 2006 instead.

Happy Birthday

Some 365 odd days ago I sat down to write my first ever blog entry. It feels like a lot more. I have to admit that I only did it so a friend would stop pressuring me – It’s good to have friends who not only suggest new experiences for you but actually force you into them. I fully expected to write three or four entries, get bored and stop. That’s how things usually work with me; I have a short attention span. For years I kept diaries and journals – I still have them. In some cases I actuall made it as far as February, in others there’s a six month break before a couple more pages are added. That’s me – the king of good intentions.

But here I am after a year.

I realise that I haven’t written everyday – I know that, in some cases, I went weeks without adding anything; but I have written 174 entries, almost 64,000 words, of sometimes asinine, sometimes juvenile, sometimes irrelevant, sometimes completely misguided comment and opinion; that for me is an achievement. Consider my other current writing projects: A screenplay of which I am ridiculously proud; I completed scene 6 this week, I started it in 2003. Then there are the many lyrics I’ve written waiting for music and the music I’ve written waiting for lyrics. And there’s my novel, I just about have the title sorted. Oh, and my autobiography which I began when I was in 2S at Dalriada School (aged 12) – I have the first chapter sorted.

You get the idea.

This blog has amused me, I have enjoyed writing it – the biggest surprise to me is that there are people out there who read it. I know the vast majority of my readers stumble upon it during some random internet search (The search phrase that has brought the most visitors from google is “foot vasectomy” – there are people out there who want information about vasectomising their feet and they find my site! I can understand about all the men searching for revealing pictures of Sammy Winward and Kate Silverton – I even understand about the ones looking to join the Free Presbyterian Church, but foot vasectomies? As for the people who found me by typing it “Macosquin UDA” and “qualifications to become an astronaut” – they must have been severely disappointed. My personal favourite is whoever it was who came to this blog by asking “Where do I buy stab proof hoodies in Dublin?” if anyone sees them let them know I have a contact who’ll do them a good deal.) but I’d like to thank you all for dropping by.

This year has been an eventful one for me and the world. I’ve met a lot of awesome people, had some awful times, seen some amazing sights, given up all hope of ever owning a house, moved out of a job. One of my favourite moments of the year is actually related to this blog. It was when the Guardian quoted my comments on the death of Steve Irwin. Now I know a lot of you will be underawed by that but the idea that thousands of people could possibly have read something that I wrote - even if it was only two sentences - made me feel quite special. Will I still be writing this in a years time? I have no idea. Where will I be in a years time? Will I have the perfect job? I have no idea. All I can say is (DV) I will be talking about my 345th irrelevant post and my 128,000th asinine word.

how does it feel being 30?

Much the same as being 29 but with more people asking how it feels to be the age I am.

I am now entering my 31st year. Many people have done so before and many will do so after me but it still feels like it is something a bit special. Maybe it was my colleagues presenting me with a cake in the staff room on Friday morning, or maybe it's the two cards sitting on the mantelpiece from my family, or maybe it was the email I got from my internet service provider wishing my many happy returns and offering me some special birthday deals on things I don't need.

I have to say that the biggest difference between being 'in my twenties' and becoming a 'thirty something' is in perception. Let's face it - what major changes can happen in the few hours between going to bed at 29 years, 364 days and waking up at 30 years? The head of the English Dept did offer to carry out a bit of stage makeup on me to change my appearance tomorrow - maybe paint on a moustache or something - but the best I can really do to change my appearance for my new chronological classification is to wear my new tie. Definitely more a 30s kind of a tie than a 20s.

One sure sign I'm getting older is the onset on senility. This morning I got up, had a shower, brushed my teeth, squeezed some shaving gel into my hands... and promptly rubbed it through my hair. I don't know if I somehow mistook it for shampoo or whether I, subconsciously, felt I should shave my head. Either way it's a disturbing action. Could it be age related?
Sometimes, in our eagerness to categorise things, we create boundaries. The problem with boundaries is that they are very narrow things to separate vastly different things. Imagine what life would be like in our little Island if the border wasn't so much a line between two countries and more like a slow gradient of levels of Irishness. People could admit to watching RTE more than the BBC yet still prefer Roast Beef to Irish Stew - Petrol prices could gradually get cheaper rather than jumping suddenly either side of the Foyle - so many problems solved in such a simple way.

My pupils don't see it that way though. A 29 year old teacher is still a young teacher - inexperienced yet approachable whereas a 30 year old teacher is old guard - old fashioned but authoritative. Well, usually. When I ask them what age they think I am they tend to say 45. Yeah, thanks for that.