The Pandemic Post

‘Forgive me Father for I have sinned, it has been 2 years, 6 months, 3 weeks and 4 days since my last blog post.’

Whilst I still have a love for writing, I have bought into the more new-fangled outlets of twitter, instagram and more recently Tik Tok – the less said about Tik Tok the better! Taking time out to sit at a keyboard seems an arduous task when an instagram post says a thousand words. And damnit, I’m a busy woman with places to go and people to see…at least until very recently.

Mid-week pints, Saturday brunches, Sunday pub lunches are all on an undefined-duration hiatus. Stalled until further notice. It’s quite an adjustment, but there’s nothing we can do except stay at home and find a new normal.

For some it’s an opportunity to take up a new skill; upcycle a piece of furniture, learn an instrument, bake banana bread (who even eats banana bread!?), become a yogi etc etc etc. You can’t move on instagram, facebook or twitter without bumping into wholesome suggestions as to how you can use all of the new extra free time that we have. F*ck that!

Here’s the list of everyday things that have changed and how I’m adjusting since lockdown descended and my world shrunk to the confines of a 2-bed flat.

Shopping
When the first wave of panic buying and stock-piling started, I was happy to scoff and roll my eyes. C’mon, how much damage could a common flu really do? But as the situation progressed, I’m embarrassed to say that I jumped down off my high horse and caved. Having managed to bag a tesco delivery slot, I packed my virtual trolley high! Pasta, rice, tinned soup; everything that I needed for the impending apocalypse. But also lots of stuff that I would never buy or could possibly ever need. So whilst everyone else was creating culinary delights in the kitchen, in the first week alone I lived on toast and onion rings. Take it from me, no one should eat TEN packets of onion rings in a week!

Since the bulk shop, I’ve only ventured out for groceries once. I queued to get into a Tesco Superstore like it was Fabric or Coppers on a Saturday night. Giving the bouncer a confident nod as he let me in – buzzing that I could see a good stock of fresh produce on the other side of the door.

The whole experience was pretty overwhelming. Whilst the one-in, one-out practice meant that the store wasn’t crowded, people didn’t seem to have any concerns about social distancing. My desire to get in and out as quickly as possible meant that my planned weekly shop ended up being a loaf of bread, more pasta, two Easter eggs and a box of Coco Pops. I’m set up for another week of nutritional poverty.

How to dress
I’m not particularly girly, never have been. I don’t put a huge amount of thought or effort into what I wear. I don’t have a fancy skin-care routine and I don’t bother with make up or hair straighteners most days. But Jesus H. Christ, I have gone from bad to worse. On Friday, I put on clean pyjama bottoms for work and I was so proud that I ended up showing most of my colleagues on our video calls.
Sidenote: I finally changed out of those pyjama bottoms three days later.

Today I showered, put on real-world clothes and a full face of makeup, just to sit in the sitting room. It was a treat (both for me and my poor, unfortunate housemate!). How are people deciding when to wash their hair when they’re not planning around social events and nights out? It’s just so much effort!

Socialising
Humans are a social animal. Whether your personality is introverted or extroverted, we are naturally wired to be part of a pack. We’ve quickly adapted to our situation and rather than physical meet ups, virtual houseparties, zoom calls, skypes and facetimes are becoming an important part of the tapestry of life.

And I’m still managing to make a fool of myself within the confines of my own home. Last Friday, I participated in a variety of Friday night house parties. Sharing a drink with colleagues, friends from home and people that I hadn’t spoken to in an age. Sharing a drink or two with each group, on an empty stomach was a bad idea. I tried to soak up some of the alcohol with a nutritous dinner consisting of crumpets and honey. My last memory before rolling into bed is of inhaling crumpets, so the next morning when I got up I was expecting to find an opened packet of crumpets going stale on the side. But the kitchen was clear. Had I dreamed up the crumpets? I wasn’t sure. I checked my Tesco account and I had had some in my delivery. There was no evidence of them anywhere. Had I eaten the whole packet of nine crumpets? It was the only plausible answer.

Worringly, I had woken up hungry!

It was only two days later when I found the remaining six crumpets in the freezer. NGL, it was a big relief!

One thing that I’ve realised (more than my ability to put away carbohydrates) is how driven I am by FOMO. I’m quite happy staying in my flat, binging Netflix and keeping my distance from people, but I hate the thought of people having the craic without me and missing out. I’ll travel hours, sometimes days, just to catch the end of a party…and do you know what, it’s always well worth it!

The only setback to my current laziness/ unsocialness is that it doesn’t generate much content for this blog, but I have over two and half years worth of content in my back pocket surely that’ll be enough to keep us going for the duration. We’re all hearing enough about lockdown and coronavirus, so I’m bringing back the blog for a distraction and hopefully to raise a few laughs.

I just have to figure out what is suitable for my parents consumption. Mammy, maybe don’t read these posts from now on, K? xoxo

The Final Instalment of the Vietnam Adventure

And so on to northern Vietnam and the end of the great Vietnamese adventure.  I flew from Hue to Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam.  Hanoi is a lot quieter that Ho Chi Minh, and much easier to navigate.  On my first night in Hanoi, I explored the night markets, which are even cheaper than down south and walked around the lake which Hanoi is built on.
I had big plans for my last week but I hadn’t considered just how big Northern Vietnam is.  Top of my list of things to see where Ha Long Bay and Sapa but I quickly realised that I didn’t have time to do both properly.  I’d seen plenty of rice fields over the month so Ha Long bay was the final destination of my trip.  Ha Long bay is a Unesco World Preservation site and a natural place of beauty.  I did plenty of reading up on how best to experience it and most places advised a 2 day, 1 night trip.  I did some research into decent travel companies for solo travellers and booked a tour.

I was pretty happy with my choice of your company.  Accompanying me on the bus to Ha Long bay were a number of couples, a group of British girls and another solo traveller. All was good,until we reached Ha Long bay!  Up until we arrived at the port, I was blissfully unaware that our bus was carrying two different tour groups, which I guess explained why we had tour guides.  Our tour guide called Phan and another guy – I can’t remember his Vietnamese name but it translated to “Kidney.”

Kidney called his group which was made up of the group of British girls, the other solo traveller and two other young couples.  That left me and FIVE OTHER COUPLES to go and explore one of the most romantic places on planet earth.  I was thrilled.  There is nothing sadder than seeing a table set for lunch for five people.

Our tour was filled with activities, which meant that I didn’t have much time to feel like a spare wheel.  Instead, I became chief photographer, taking couples pictures and volunteering to run to the highest viewing points to get the best shots. The only point were I felt like a total spare wheel was as we watched the sunset over the bay.  As the couples clung to each other, I clung to a glass of red wine!

Day two of our cruise included a trip to an Oyster farm and canoeing through the bay which meant that I could explore smaller caves and see the rock formations close up.  By the time, I was saying goodbye to the rest of the couples, I was genuinely sad to be leaving.

After my couples cruise, I went back to Hoi An, booking a hostel on the bus without properly reading the reviews.  After struggling to find it on Google maps, a local showed me to the alleyway where my home for the night was conveniently situated.

My sleep was broken by the sound of glass breaking and dogs fighting.  Early next morning, I checked out and moved to another hostel which was much better located.

My last few days in Hanoi were spent sight-seeing and drinking cheep beer.  Not a bad way to end an amazing month.  And for those of you who thought that these annoying blog posts would end here, I’m sorry to tell you that I have a month to go in Australia yet.  It’s a tough life, but someone has to do it.

 

 

Central vietnam

Right, let’s pick up where we left off. Just over a week ago, I left Ho Chi Minh, and what a week it has been! 

My first stop was Dalat which is in the Highlands. I got an overnight bus to Dalat which I was told would take 8 hours but only took 5. So I spent the most of a night sleeping in Dalat bus station until morning came and I could check into my hotel. After 3 weeks of living in an 8 person dorm, I decided that I would treat myself to a single room so that I could enjoy some peace and quiet. My room left a lot to be desired. It was in the basement of an old house and needed a fair bit of TLC. Mould festered in every corner and the room had no window so the smell was unavoidable. Making up for my not so glamourous lodgings was the fact that it was perfectly located on the flat lake that Dalat is built around. Dalat felt incredibly European after Ho Chi Minh. The architecture is heavily influenced by the French colonies who left Saigon for a cooler climate. Dalat is not the most common backpacker stop and is mainly favoured by Vietnamese honeymooners so romance is at every turn (which is fairly awkward as a solo traveller). Swan pedalos cover the lake and horse drawn carriages are a plenty. 

After exploring the town and the markets, I decided that I would go to the cinema. I saw Son of Bigfoot in Vietnamese, it’s a great show. Granted, I didn’t quite catch all of the jokes but I was able to follow the storyline, I think! 

Despite having had an early night, I woke up not feeling so great; a Vietnamese version of Delhi belly, which wasn’t convenient as I had booked a 4 hour bus to Nha Trang. I popped a few imodiums and said a few prayers. Thankfully there were no disasters!  

Again I was only spending one night in Nha Trang so that left me with only me day to explore. I hired an easy rider, hopped on the back of a motorbike and saw all the sights with my driver Tinh. We visited Pagodas, temples and I even spent some time with some locals making bed mats.

Monday night, I left Nha Trang for Hoi An via Da Nang. I got a night bus to Da Nang which took around 8 hours only for it to drop us in the arse-end of nowhere at 5.30am. Google maps notified me of another bus station less than 5 minutes away so I walked there and got a local bus to Hoi An. The local bus was filled to the rafters with vegetables and all sorts of produce and people were wedged in wherever possible. My rucksack was wedged between the driver’s seat and the gear stick and two workers sat on my feet keeping them warm. 

Hoi An is a joy! It is an instagrammers dream, filled with colour and lanterns and prettiness. The town is packed to the brim with tailors and cobblers and tourists flock to the town to have pieces made. In a day, I had a new pair of shoes and two days later (after a lot of alterations) I had a new jumpsuit, 2 dresses and a skirt. At night time Hoi An is lit by lanterns and the  comes alive. 

Many hostels recommend that travellers rent a motorbike and follow in the footsteps of Jeremy Clarkson and co by driving the Hai Van pass. After a few days of considering it and then talking myself out of it, I eventually signed up. I figured if Richard Hammond could complete it without sustaining major injuries then so could I! On Thursday, I drove 150kms on this bad boy.  Safety measures were pretty lazidasical. They never asked for a drivers license (which is good as I don’t have one!), there was no lesson on how to drive and, when I did eventually find a helmet to cover my gargantuan noggin, the one that did opened spontaneously at different points throughout the day. But despite the sheer disregard for my personal safety, I hit the highway and zipped past bikes, cars and lorries. My life only flashed before my eyes twice! Once when I passed a lorry only for the road ahead to be closed, forcing me to scramble to a halt in the loose gravel and again when I was too busy looking out at the beach to notice a ramp, which I hit side on and did a Dukes of  Hazzard style jump across before speeding down the motorway as though nothing had happened. The Hai Van pass is not 150kms long but I took a wrong turn and ended up doing another similarly impressive route out to Tho Quang where I drove 6.5kms to the top of a mountain beore concluding that I had definitely hit a dead end and turning back to eventually get into the Hai Van pass. The scenery was incredible.The weather was not so incredible. Most of the day was hot, dry and dusty, until around 35km from my destination of Hue. Wind and a lightening storm made driving almost impossible. I’ve never wished for wipers on my glasses as much as I did that day. I arrived into Hue city around 7 hours after leaving Hoi An and I was a very pretty  sight!

There was no long stay in Hue, as I flew to Hanoi the next morning to see what hi-jinx I could get up to in North Vietnam! 

Ho Chi Minh

I have never been more at a loss about how to structure a blog post as I am now, with this one. The last three weeks have been a myriad of new experiences; smells, sights, foods. It has definitely been an experience! There’s so much to condense into this post that it may descend into chaos. I can only apologise. Xin Loi!

After a twenty-six hour journey, my jet-lagged ass landed in Ho Chi Minh city, my home for the next three weeks. This leg of my journey was to be spent volunteering with special needs children. My first realisation of the journey was that I am old! Most of the volunteers were on summer break from Uni and ranged from aged 18-22 years old. I worried that I wouldn’t have anything in common with my fellow volunteers but my roommates kindly consoled me that there had been other “mature volunteers” before me, including Ellen. Ellen was mature like me. Ellen was fifty years old! However after a few days, all of my initial reservations had dissolved and I even became a member of a sorority – The Oi Troi Oi Sisters.

Week one was culture week. We were introduced to Ho Chi Minh and visited all of the major tourist attractions including The Reunification Palace, Ho Chi Minh War Museum, Notre Dame Church, Ben Thanh Market and The Cu-Chi Tunnels. We also had some Vietnamese cooking and language classes, met with local students and got to visit our placements.

I was working in a Day Care Centre for children with special needs which was a part of one of Ho Chi Minh’s hospitals. There were around 20 children in the main room with varying disabilities including Down Syndrome, Cerebral Palsy, Cystic Fibrosis and Autism. The role of the volunteers was to help with exercise and physio, feeding, facilitate different activities and generally keep the children entertained.

Volunteers had the weekends off and most used the time to explore different areas of Vietnam. For our first weekend, the student accommodation even arranged a trip to La Gi, where for $22usd, we would visit the local orphanage and then be free to lie on the beach and relax for the weekend. It seemed to good to be true. We were about an hour into the 4 hour drive, when the driver handed out our weekend itinerary, for which every hour had been accounted for. We were to teach English for pretty much all of the weekend, even having meals with students so that they could practice their spoken English. We had around 2 hours of free time each day, on Saturday at the beach and on Sunday at an ecotourism site. The two hours that we did have on the beach on Saturday was spent sheltering from the rain!

La Gi is not a very touristy area so a group of seven westerners stood out by a mile. Everywhere we went people stared and asked for pictures with us. On Sunday whilst we swam under the waterfall, fully dressed women crossed the water to hand us their terrified babies so that they could get a picture with us. The rest of the crowd took pictures and videos from the banks.

The children that we taught asked us lots of personal questions and took everything that we told them as gospel truth, including that I am forty six years old and that Charlotte, aged 19 is my daughter! They did tell me I was very beautiful for my age so I guess that’s not so bad, right? RIGHT?

By our second week, we were well in the swing of things and had become accomplished in crossing the road, which is one of Ho Chi Minh’s biggest challenges. There are over 4.5 million motorbikes and scooters on the road and not one driver seems to have even heard of the rules of the road. Footpaths are used to avoid heavy traffic and one way systems are regularly ignored. The key to crossing the road is to keep a steady pace and that way everyone should avoid you! In the evenings, after placement, we ventured to the markets or to European restaurants in search of mashed potato to break the monotony of boiled rice for every meal. 

On Wednesday evening of our second week, we met with some local students who took us out for dinner so that they could practise their English. They ordered for us and we were given steaming bowls of Pho, with assorted mystery meat, one of which we determined to be tongue. After dinner, we went for coffees to avoid the monsoon and played music, danced and sang until it was time for us to go home.

Thursday night is a big night out for all of the volunteers. Everyone goes to the Sky Bar for ladies night, where all the girls can avail of free booze up to 10pm. Unbeknown to us videos of our previous night with the students had been circulating online and one of the girls, Charlotte, had become a Vietnamese rapping sensation, getting recognised by locals while we were out. Whilst Charlotte gained fans, all I gained was a leg covered in mozzie bites. In all of the excitement of having a night out, I’d forgotten to bug spray my legs!

For our second weekend, we went to Mui Ne, a small coastal town, with Russian influence, 6 hours north of Ho Chi Minh. This time, there was no teaching, just relaxing and letting our hair down. The salt water helped with my mozzie bites but all good was undone when I fell asleep on the beach only to get burnt on top of my bites. By the time the weekend was through, I had already used two bottles of aftersun.

Our volunteer team was slightly depleted in our 3rd week. I was unable to move on Monday because of my sunburn and Zainab had a stomach bug. I went back to placement on Tuesday, although I’m not sure that I was much help, given that I couldn’t bend to lift any of the children. By Tuesday evening, Zainab was still no better so we brought her to get checked out at the International hospital. As we stood by her trolley, I could feel my leg swelling under my trousers and knew that it needed checking out too. While the rest of my sunburn had been healing, my left leg had been turning a more purple colour. So back out I went to reception to try and talk to the nurse with no english. Eventually I figured that showing her my leg was the easiest option. Within seconds of pulling up my trousers, I was ushered to the bed opposite Zainab.

   Nurses and doctors came and looked at my exposed leg, making screwed up faces and giving it a pinch for good luck. I could see the doctors through the glass office wall arguing over who was to get the pleasure of having me as their patient. Eventually. A reluctant doctor came out and started to examine my leg, assuming that I had been scalded in hot water. After much prodding and poking and some yelps from me, the doctor announced, “I go.”

“Go where?” I asked.

“I go.”

“Where?”

“I go!”

Eventually Charlotte was able to interpret that he was saying echo and wanted to take a scan of my leg. A sonographer was beckoned over to my bed, took one look at my leg and muttered to the doctor in Vietnamese before turning on her heel and walking away. I can only assume that she told him to F*ck off! 

So I was left lying with my hideous leg out, until a younger doctor came over with a wheelchair and beckoned for me to get in. Without a word, he rolled me straight out of the hospital, into the pouring rain and across the road. I was brought into another hospital building which had obviously been closed for the night. Eventually, I was rolled into a treatment room and aforementioned sonographer was sitting stony faced waiting on me. I was given a sack and motioned to take off my trousers and lie on the bed. The young doctor handed me a sack for my clothes and I did as I was told. I pulled off my trousers and threw them into the sack. They fell straight through. The sack was bottomless and was designed for me to wear to maintain my dignity. At this stage the sonographer and doctor were looking at me as though I had just landed from Mars and any remaining shred of dignity was long gone! 

The scans showed that blood flow in my leg was normal and therefore there was no need to be concerned. Zainab and I were both discharged and given prescriptions to help with our recovery. 

The next day, we were miserable to be missing another day of placement, but the world has a strange way of showing you that things could always be worse. As I lay on my bed on Wednesday afternoon, I said goodbye to my roommate Susan who was going back to placement for the late session. Only 15 minutes had passed, when Susan returned carrying with her the most horrendous smell. While walking to the bus, Susan had failed to see an open sewer and disappeared into the ground! Her life had in a matter of seconds become shitter than mine, literally! 

After she had showered, I did my best to cheer Susan up. But I fell apart when she told me that she had come travelling to find herself. I just about managed to hold back from asking whether she’d had any luck at the bottom of the sewer! 

By Thursday, the meds had started to take effect and my leg was on the mend. I was back at placement and was determined to not miss out on a minute more. I’m just three weeks, I’d made some great friends and built strong relationships with the kids. It was very hard to leave Ho Chi Minh on Friday night! Now, I’m travelling north looking to see what other mischief I can get myself into! X 

One week unemployed

After ten years, this past week has been the first time in my life that I have been completely unemployed. Here’s how I spent it. I’m not counting the weekend as it was no different. I partied for most of it!

Monday – Day 1.

I woke up at 7am, ready to jump out of bed but then remembered that my alarm wasn’t set and rolled over for a second sleep. I woke back up at 11am. It only got out of bed an hour later because I was hungry.  I did not get dressed on Monday and I did not leave the house. Instead, I watched Harry Potter in my pyjama’s.  Funemployment is great!

Tuesday – Day 2.

I woke up to missed calls and texts from work asking me questions. I’m glad to see that they managed a full day without me. I quickly fire back answers and get out of bed determined to have a more productive day…. I got dressed at 4pm because I was embarrassed that my housemate would arrive home to see that I hadn’t got dressed again. By getting dressed, I mean I put on a pair of gym leggings and a baggy tee only to proceed and order a Chinese takeaway.

Wednesday – Day 3.

 I set my alarm for 8.30 am and snoozed for a full three hours. I got up showered, made food and settled down to work on assignments. I was more productive in 2 hours than I had been all week. I showered, had a call with an ex colleague and NEWS FLASH…I left the house! I saw friends, went for dinner and saw a film. It’s like I’m a real, functioning member of society.

Thursday – Day 4

On Thursday I did what I had been putting off all week – my assignments!

Friday – Day 5

My final day of unemployment before travelling and the morning time was all about grooming.  I booked in with a beautician for eyebrow, underarm and bikini wax. I’ve had my eyebrows and underarms done plenty of times, but never been brave enough to let anyone loose on my carpet. But seeing as I’m going to be sharing a dorm with twenty other girls for the next three weeks, I thought it best to not set off with Leo Sayer living between my legs. So I popped some ibuprofen and off I went to Hammersmith for some general maintenance.

A friendly Spanish lady showed me to the treatment room and left me to get ready. I stripped down to my underwear, only for “Maria” to come back and start with my eyebrows.  There’s something quite unsettling about lying unnecessarily undressed whilst a stranger does your eyebrows. We got through the eyebrows and underarms without so much as a flinch. Completely pain free.

Then it was on to the main event. Now everyone that told me that it was pain free was lying and my relationship with Maria went quickly down-hill. It’s hard to be friends with a lady who tears the hair from your bits with a hot, molten liquid, all the while telling me to stop “clenching.”  It was the sight of blood that made it hard to relax. I’m bloody clenching now just writing this! I left with tears in my eyes and a breeze between my legs.

After that ordeal, a new streamlined version of me, finished packing and went for a final lunch in London for a few months. Now with a beer in hand, the pain is ebbing and I’m ready for off.

The Blog Revival

The blog is back! After a two-year hiatus, it’s time to dust off my laptop and get back to sharing every ridiculous detail of my life with you all. I never really meant to stop posting, but life got in the way and I thought that maybe if I took dating a bit more seriously, rather than using dates as blog fodder, then I might have some more success. I was wrong. My love life is reliably horrendous.

So, why the blog revival? Well I’ve quit my job and in just two weeks, I’m hitting the road. First stop Vietnam. The one thing I said I would never do is travel on my own. It’s too dangerous. I’d get lonely. What if something went wrong? But if I was going to sit around waiting for a boyfriend to travel with then I’d never make it past my front doorstep. Flights are booked and I’m taking you lot with me.

Any of you that know me  will know that my travels usually don’t go to plan. I turn up at the wrong airport, on the wrong day, at the wrong time. I even, almost, had a Ryanair flight diverted because they thought I was having a stroke…but that’s another story. No doubt chaos will ensue and I’d hate to keep my bumbling idiocy a secret from you all. So buckle up and stay tuned….. we’re going on an adventure.

2015 – Done and dusted

To paraphrase the great poet laureate Noddy Holder

It’s Chriiiiiistmaaaaas! 

A day to sit back, relax and eat your own body weight in turkey, sprouts and chocolates. A day to fall out with your nearest and dearest over a game of scrabble or monopoly. A day that your mother will ply you with drink before you’ve had your breakfast. 

To be honest, it doesn’t feel like 52 weeks since Christmas Day of 2014 but those 52 weeks have been jam packed. I’ve taken 19 flights, been in 5 countries, finished my first half marathon, completed two-thirds of a 3 peak challenge, had countless hangovers, dodgy dates and even featured in Her.ie’s #ShiftyFirstDates column. All-in-all a fairly decent year. 

My highlight of the year 

‘Murica! 10 days in America over Easter. Visiting New York, Vegas and San Francisco. One night in San Francisco is the absolute highlight. Three dollar beers descended into absolute carnage and a top nights craic. As per usual, we attracted every weirdo in the place including Jessie who told us all about the war in Ireland and how people were being killed at the borders. Thankfully Mammy was safe enough on her trip to Asda! 

My low point of the year 

Well that would probably be when I went on a lunchtime date. I snuck out of work and went to meet Mark for a picnic. How romantic! As we sat on the grass of Soho Square eating sandwiches and malteasers, I wondered ‘could he be the one?’ And in answer to my thoughts a pigeon flew over and sprayed is both. Now, I’m not totally up to date with pigeons bowel movements but I think it’s a fair assumption that Peter the pigeon had a few too many pints the night before, with Guinness being his tipple of choice. So there I sat, trying to ignore the fact that both I and my date had smatterings of pigeon excrement in our hair. It’s lucky right? Mark didn’t quite share my joy at being pooed on. He clearly wasn’t “the one,” and so the search continues. 

On a broader scale it has been a mixed year. There was euphoria when Ireland made history by voting yes for marriage equality. David Cameron had an affair with Miss Piggy resulting in her separation from Kermit the frog. Zayn broke all our hearts by leaving 1D… How could you Zayn??! I met Nicolas Hoult. He bought me a drink. We’re friends now. In May, a child was born with more money than I’ll ever see in my lifetime, Princess Charlotte. Leo Di Caprio still didn’t win an Oscar. Kim Kardashian popped out another sprog and called him Saint West, making him sound more like a shopping centre than a child. We’re still not quite sure who won Miss Universe. Daniel O Donnell captured the hearts of the nation, with disturbing pelvis thrusts on Strictly. Somebody won X Factor. Cecil the Lion got shot by a dentist. 600,000 refugees fled Afghanistan and Syria hoping for better life and safety in Europe. They dominated the headlines for most of August but they’re old news now. Black Friday meant that I could get a new tv at a fraction of the original price. The world lost Cilla Black, Maureen O Hara and Irish playwright Brian Friel. ISIS killed 130 people in a devastating attack on Paris. France responds by bombing Syria and a death toll is too unimportant to report. The world has gone mad. Mark Zuckerberg had a baby girl. Her first picture got over six million likes on Facebook. And here in Cavan, the turkey is ready (albeit slightly on the crispy side because I didn’t look after it properly). 

There’s just a week left of 2015, lets make it a good one! Merry Christmas to you and yours. See you in 2016. Over and out. 

Advent Calendar of Kindness

Dec 1st

The official start of Christmas. Despite Christmas ads being plastered everywhere you turn, Christmas only becomes real when December kicks in and the first door of the advent calendar is opened and the chocolate behind it has been gobbled down. To be honest, when I woke up I didn’t realise that December had arrived on my doorstep, but there’s usually very little realised until I get to work and have my first coffee. Until then I’m on autopilot. 

This morning I stepped into line with the rest of the commuter soldiers and marched to the station. On the platform, I noticed a kid, about 12 who seemed a bit lost. He was clearly distressed as he went to leave the platform and then suddenly changed his mind and turned back. The rest of the commuters ignored him (they’re commuters, not people) too engrossed in The Metro to pay attention to anyone else. 

It turns out that he’d left his phone on the train and was in a bit of a tizzy about what he should do. I let him use my phone, he called his phone but it rang out. So I told him to ring home. He rang his Mum who put him at ease within minutes of talking to him. And with a nice thank you and a smile, he went off to school and I got on my train for work. 

Nothing major, about 5 minutes of my time. Not even long enough to miss my first train. 

When I moved to London, I was the idiot who smiled on the tube and didn’t care of people stood on the left of the escalator. Now I’d rather watch the world burn!

But I don’t want to be blind to people around me. So I’ve decided that in the run up to Christmas, I’m going to jump on the random acts of kindness bandwagon. At least one random act of kindness per day in the run up to Christmas. Because not everyone is as lucky as I am. What’s that I hear you say????   

  So over the next 4 weeks, I’ll be keeping you posted on the adventures that comes with being nice to strangers. An experience that will be pretty new to me…..

Faithful Friends

The past fortnight has been a whirlwind of airports, flights, alcohol and hangovers. And along the way there has been several “blog moments” and I’d say there’s a few people out there with sweaty palms hoping that they’re not going to be the next blog sensation. . . They’ll just have to wait and see 🙂

Last weekend, I was one of the droves of people who went #hometovote. I managed to get the last seat on the last flight and couldn’t wait to get back on Irish soil to be a part of Irish history. My flight, of course, got delayed but thankfully by not too much. We disembarked our flight and there was a quiet feeling of excitement amongst the passengers which was echoed when we entered the arrivals halls to banners and hugs.

When my vote was cast on Friday, there was little more that I could do except to hope that the rest of the country had voted as I had.

The rest of the weekend was spent on a boat for the 50th anniversary Erne Boat Rally. Over 5 days, I laughed and drank more than I had in years. The only time that I didn’t have a bottle of Coors Light in my hand was when it was replaced by a gin and tonic. I celebrated my birthday surrounded by some of the funniest people I have ever met and I even took up fishing for the weekend and despite some initial success  – It turned out that he was a slippery little bugger and jumped straight back in for a bite of someone else’s rod.

Finally though on Tuesday morning, the party had to end. By the time I reached London I was in the depths of the horrors which lasted for the rest of the week. Alcohol sweats, the shakes, night terrors, every possibly hangover symptom you could possibly name – I had it! By Friday afternoon I was absolutely done in. The thoughts of another weekend of drinking filled me with dread and my hands shook as I printed out my boarding pass for my Saturday afternoon flight to Dublin.

This visit was short and sweet. Just hitting a full 24 hours in Dublin for my friends’ Jen and Nicola’s leaving party before they head off to Canada. Before I new it, I was back on the Coors light and my hands were significantly steadier! Like every sophisticated party there was a bouncy castle out in the garden and the rain didn’t stop us from making full use of it. Throughout the night there were some spectacular falls; both on and off the bouncy castle!

By 6am it was time to fall onto an air bed and get some sleep before Sunday crept in and it was time to return to London again.

The two trips in quick succession made me realise what a great country Ireland is. The euphoria of the Yes Vote and just getting to spend time with people who are on the exact same wavelength. No fronts, just good, honest craic. For the first time in a long time it really make me take stock of how lucky I am to have so many faithful friends! 😉

The Power is in Your Hands!

On Friday 22nd of May, Ireland, as a nation, is being asked one simple question. Should same sex marriage be legalised. Any of you who are connected with me on Facebook or who I’ve talked to over the past few months will know that I stand very much on the yes side of the campaign.

In essence, whether the referendum passes or not makes little difference to me or to my future. Why should it? Regardless of a yes vote, because I’m heterosexual the state doesn’t feel the need to debate my right to make a lawful commitment to the person of my choosing.

But to lots of people on our little island a tick in the yes box means the absolute world. As the Yes campaign has rightly stated, this vote is an act of acceptance for our friends, our brothers, our sisters, our sons and our daughters.

For me, it’s my brother and I’ve asked him to write the rest of the blog instead of me because really this vote affects him a lot more than me.

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In a little less than three more days, this referendum will be over one way or the other. At this moment in time that is the only thing we are certain of. I’m sure, like me, you can’t wait. Personally, it’s been a strange few months, watching the campaign from afar, listening to non-Irish perspectives, hearing about the posters and all the campaigns against the proposition.

Thankfully, I don’t have sob story for you (I know others aren’t as lucky). I’m just Gavin, brother of Hubert, Dermot and Anita, brought up by the same parents in the same home, attending the same schools, lived in the same community, drink in the same pubs with the same friends. Sometimes I’m too quiet and sometimes I’m too loud (Usually when I’ve had a few to many).  I just happen to be gay.

And that’s how I’ve always been treated, as Gavin. Being gay has never been an issue in Cavan, Dublin or anywhere I’ve travelled. Personally, I have never been treated any differently anywhere, never even hearing a negative comment.

But in the eyes of the law I am different. You now have the power to change that. A no vote would be the worst negative comment imaginable. A no vote would be devastating for me and for my many gay friends and our families.

On Friday you have the power to decide whether one day I can get married.It’s a simple as that. Nothing else will change, the sky will not fall! For some of the people reading this I will have been a very happy guest at their wedding but now you get to decide not only if you will attend my wedding in future but if I even get the option to have a wedding and be married in the eyes of the law at all. Sounds strange doesn’t it, you get to decide whether I have the right to get married?

In my view the Irish people are the greatest people on earth (Yes, I’m biased!). We pride ourselves on our spirit of generosity and I hope this generosity will be shown again on Friday.

I will travel home to Cavan and to my old National School (Greaghrahan NS) along with my family members to cast my yes vote. This is my personal plea to you to please make the effort to go out and vote and vote yes. Never before will a vote you cast have such a direct and immediate impact on one of your friends.

I’m asking for you to please be generous! Vote for me.

Thank you

Gavin

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Get your polling cards and your ID and pop into your local polling station on Friday. For the effort it takes to put a small tick in a box, you will get to determine the future of so many people around you.

If this vote passes, then Ireland will be the first country to have passed the deed by ballot.

The first country to vote for equality.