sucker of the week

Does it make me gullible that I want desperately to be the customer of the week? Have I been too easily suckered by a ham-fisted corporate tactic?

I don’t care – I want to walk in there and see, “Customer of the Week, Mr C. His favourite drink is a grande soy latte, extra hot, extra shot, with a hint of irish cream in his own designer thermal mug.” It would make me happy.

But would it make me go more often, persuade all my friends and family and random strangers to spend their hard earned cash on over priced coffee, and take free publicity shots for my blog? Undoubtedly. I’m naïve and susceptible to cheap promotional devices. Does that make me a bad person?

my new favourite way to end a speech

The work begins anew. The hope rises again. And the dream lives on

Massachusetts Democrat Edward Kennedy

something in the (rain) water

I knew there was a reason I lived in Ballymoney. I’ve been searching for a rationale for a long time. I moved from the much larger and busier Ballymena when I was two weeks old. People don’t do that for no reason – I must just have forgotten what it was.

I was wandering around town yesterday and tripped up on camera crews every time I turned a corner. It was tres tres exciting. Well, exciting in a not-much-else-every-happens kind of a way. What had dragged the news crews up the M2 from Belfast? Well I found out when I watched the news yesterday evening and it turns out Ballymoney finally has something to crow about:

People live longer in Ballymoney than anywhere else on the island, it has been revealed.
The Co Antrim town boasts the highest life expectancy in both Northern Ireland and the Republic at just over 78 years for men and 82 for women.

Yes, according to the Ireland and Northern Ireland's Population Health Observatory (INIsPHO) we in Ballymoney last longer than the rest of youse. The fact that I have never heard of the INIsPHO doesn’t diminish the significance of their declaration. It is surely reason enough for everyone of importance to sell their Malone Road Mansions in Belfast and move into two bedroom bungalows in Ballymoney. Meanwhile I will take advantage of the crashing house prices to move the other way – I’m willing to risk it.

Why do people live longer here – well I have many theories; none of which are particularly complimentary. People in Ballymoney are well known for living the clean life – some may say the boring life. Despite plenty of pubs and people to crawl out of them, Ballymoney is right at the top of what could be described as Bible belt Northern Ireland. Teetotalism is the new black. Clean living leads to long living.

But my own personal favourite theory is that we are so laid back up here that we lose track of time. I wouldn’t say the pace of life is slower up here – no, actually I would – its much slower. And that is why we live longer. We have every intention of getting round to dying – really - we’ll get round to it eventually.

I'll have a big mac and three years in the state pen please

I love other cultures – they’re all so foreign.

Take Manila for instance. Just recently I read that they have done a deal with McDonalds to run their police cars on a mixture of diesel and Micky D’s used cooking oil.

With oil prices at crippling highs, the project would convert cars in the Makati financial district to run on a mix of 40 percent diesel and 60 percent cooking oil, its police chief Senior Superintendent Gilbert Cruz said.

Ingenious. The way oil prices are going the criminals won’t be able to fill their get away cars while all the police have to do is pop in to the drive-in for a big mac, a large fries and an oil change.

"It's a win-win situation for us because we will both benefit," Cruz said. "The cooking oil of their Makati stores will be re-used and the Makati police will use it as a component for their biodiesel and also save money."

They’re talking about rolling the project out across the Philippines.

I wonder if similar concepts would work in the west? In Canada Tim Horton’s coffee and donuts already fuel the police force (boom boom!) I remember they were big customers when I worked night shift in a Timmy’s in Waterloo. They were entitled to free coffee but generally paid their way (perhaps the small cup they could get free wouldn’t have sated the thirst created by crime fighting). And it wasn’t always a bad thing to see a cop car pulling into the parking lot – especially since someone had found a gun in the toilets shortly before I got the job. I often wondered if my huge size played any part in my recruitment – bagel baker, donut dipper, beverage brewer and bouncer all in one. I was ideal.

So who would the UK police turn to for refuelling? The wise comments are coming far too easily to mind – There’s no fun to it when there’s no challenge.

coffee turf wars

I love Ground. I admire their courage. At a time when new Espresso Bars were opening every day and Starbucks, Costa and Esquires were planning their assault on Northern Ireland the wise people in Ground decided that it was a good time to start a business selling coffee. I feel like I own them - sort of. I was there seven odd years ago when they first opened in Coleraine. I interviewed for barista positions but was told I was overqualified – how little they know – barista work is about all a theatre studies and English literature degree do qualify you for. Let’s face it, even teaching English, I haven’t had much need for my knowledge of Canadian Literature – although being able to quote Margaret Atwood and Leonard Coen in any given situation has its uses.

I have spent more hours writing short stories upstairs in Coleraine Ground than I ever spent revising for the multitude of exams I have taken since they opened. At the time I found it amusing that they had a space in their comment cards asking which branch you frequented – like there would ever be more than one Ground.

Today I am sitting in the Ballymoney Ground. A few years after Coleraine opened they added one in Ballymena (on a street where there is practically more coffee shops than paving stones,) then they moved into the old KFC building in Portrush, and then a couple of months ago this one – the best of the bunch – in Ballymoney.

I ran out of inspiration for the short story I had started a while ago and the owner came over for a chat. I asked her where the next opening would be. “Belfast” she told me, “We’re opening in Waterstones.” A coffee shop INSIDE a book shop – who could have imagined it! Original it may not be but it is surely an excellent move. Breaking the big city must be an exciting prospect and who knows where it goes from there. I suggested the states, maybe Seattle. She gave me that kind smile people give me when they think I’m trying to be funny.

And so the Ground machine continues to plough on oblivious of the Starbucks, Café Neros and Costa Coffees springing up like wild flowers in it’s way. And more power to them. Not just because they are a local group taking on the big Globals but because I reckon the money I’ve spent in there must have paid for at least one of their stores. I’m claiming this one.

gratuitous sunsets II

It’s been a while since I’ve had a gratuitous sunset shot from my back yard. I like this one – it seemed alive the way it kept changing colour and shape. The most frustrating thing is that it became even more glorious, with huge beams of molten gold shooting high above the horizon – by that time I’d put the camera away – so you’ll have to take my word for it.

growing pains

I have a house plant – a coleus – I know it’s called a coleus because I looked it up. It was given to me by a class I used to teach; not because I was special in any way or because I was their favourite teacher, they gave one to most of their teachers. I expect they were using them to look at germination or something in science; then at the start of the summer holidays they gave them away.

I got to know the kids in this particular class pretty well over the course of the year. Not only did I have them for drama but I was also giving many of them extra support in reading or counting on a daily basis. Their literacy and numeracy ability levels were on the distinctly low side and it made school an extremely challenging and confusing place to be.

When they handed me the plant it was a little green thing with two leaves in a small yoghurt pot. And that is how it stayed for the next few weeks in my kitchen window. I have to say I was rather under-whelmed.

Then I was worried.

Surely, after three weeks of loving care it should have grown at least a little. I didn’t necessarily expect exotic colours and bounteous fruit – but was a third leaf too much to ask? I told my mother about it and she laughed.

A week after my mother removed the tiny plant from its yoghurt pot and replanted it into something bigger it doubled in size. Another week later it had over twenty leaves of varying shades of red and green, and had doubled in size again. When it started to block the light coming through the kitchen window I began to worry, but I had to admit that it was a thing of beauty.

It got me thinking about those kids who gave me the plant in the first place. The ones whose lives are being constrained by an inability to read or count. The metaphor is an obvious one. I wonder what would happen if, somehow, they were set free. Would they go on to become things of beauty? I have no doubt they will; somehow they will find a way around their problems and then who knows what they will be capable of - but I’ll be more than a little concerned if they start blocking the light coming through my kitchen window.