Month: October 2022

Two weeks later, the yellow lines reappeared, and I can only surmise that the county council painted them back. A week later, they were painted grey again. Over the next four months, the yellow lines were painted four more times, and each time they were painted over with grey paint. I began to imagine the Monday morning Fingal County Council meeting where the secretary would say, ‘Number five on this morning’s Agenda is – The yellow lines at Low Rock, and that everyone around the table would mutter with consternation under their collective breath ‘Oh, Christ, not this again’.

Every time I went for a swim, I could not wait to see if the lines were grey or yellow; it always put a smile on my face. It must be a first for the county council to be at war with residents who had previously asked for the yellow lines to be painted. And, having changed their collective minds, decided against it.

I would not mind, but there is more than enough room for the residents to park their cars and ample space for another six swimmers to park theirs. Swimming brings out the best in everyone. The craic and the banter before and after getting in for a swim is a cherry on top of the salty sea goodness.

 

All the best

Stay fab

Adele

This is a remarkable story that could only happen in Ireland, as I do not think any other country would put up with our shenanigans. Where I swim, there is an area for parking our cars. Behind where we park our cars, three private houses have their own parking. Last year one of the residents shouted at a few of us for parking our cars in the cul de sac in front of his house.

At the time, we were not blocking anyone, but he must have had enough and took it out on us. He began to place three bins in front of the area before their homes to overstate his point.  However, this still left six parking spaces for anyone that wanted to park their car while swimming in Low Rock.

A few months ago, yellow lines appeared. Everyone that swam at Low Rock was disgusted, and the residents living behind the yellow lines also swim in Low Rock. After a few weeks, somebody painted the yellow lines with dark grey paint, which was quite unusual to see.

I began to think that the owners of the houses originally painted the yellow lines, and somebody later told me that this was untrue and it was actually the county council that painted them.

A fellow swimmer had met a well-dressed man who had said that in all his life, he had never been asked to paint yellow lines for no parking and then have them painted over. The story goes that all the swimmers were criticizing the residents that were swimmers for having the lines painted in the first place. Perhaps they painted over them as their popularity decreased in Low Rock?

All the best

Stay fab

Adele

Warning – Suicidal ideation trigger.

The following poem was accepted for performance at the Leinster heat of the All-Ireland Poetry Slam at Sin E on Ormond Quay.

It was written during a period in my life when I was very low. At the time, writing this poem was a valuable cathartic experience for me.

 

Mosquito mind

I question, am I the only one?

With an unkind mosquito mind.

My mental health is a sham.

As I abhor who I am.

My pseudo happiness, pretending I am blessed.

Embalming my soul in binging alcohol.

Over-pleasing beyond reason.

You must love me, as I do not.

My blindness to my innate goodness is unsustainable.

I need to begin to feel well.

I have had a trillion thoughts.

Too many, where sanity was sought.

Is this the thought to undo my existence?

Am I not worth more than this moment spent?

Considering self-annihilation.

Lacking self-compassion and patience.

I deserve my life, the joy and the strife.

I can overcome my mind squall.

By seeking help and challenging it all.

I am better than this; can I give myself a soul kiss?

I have too much to give, but I have to forgive

Myself and my fragility, times when it is so hard being me.

I will try to transmute my pain into peace

To sit with my emotions, surrender and release.

By

Adele Leahy

 

Here is my third excerpt from my debut Romcom novel- Tara Tree, for your perusal. I hope you enjoy reading it.

 

I have no appetite, but I know I must eat something with the tablets. A lonesome lettuce is staring back at me when I open the fridge. Checking the back of the fridge reveals that, thankfully, there is no black mould. Leaving vegetables to go off in the fridge is a dreadful habit, but with all my flaws, this is merely the tip of the iceberg.

It makes sense to chuck them out when they are past their sell-by-date, but somehow, I like to imagine myself as someone who will actually eat the lettuce and enjoy it. I am still waiting for that day. I decide to talk to the lettuce. To ask it not to go off. Apparently, this is the thing to do nowadays. If we can talk to our plants to get them to grow, why can’t we talk to our vegetables in the fridge to stop them from going off?

Just as I am placing it back in the fridge, I notice a big black rotting spot at the back of the lettuce and decide to bin it. I could cut out the rotten bit and wrap it in wet paper towels so that it will last even longer, but as I have the flu, the chances of me consuming lettuce over the next week are slim. Just like I want to be. Not the obvious lettuce dodger that I am. I put my cuddly weight gain over the last year down to the Internet cookies. They are delicious. That’s my excuse, and I am sticking to it.

 

All the best

Stay fab

Adele

Here is my second excerpt from my debut Romcom novel- Tara Tree, for your perusal.

My short story will be called the 7:77 am Club and will relay the story of seven hippies who gather together at 7.17 am each morning for seven days to chant each other’s mantras for manifesting their ideal lives. Using the power of the number seven, I aim to transport the group to a place where their dreams can come true. Six of the group will chant the affirmation mantra for the seventh person and do this in a circle until everyone is complete. Three hippies will clash with the group due to their covert narcissistic nature, and sparks will fly. My theory is that when more people visualize and chant each other’s mantras, they increase their power of actualization.

After a few hours of writing, I get frustrated with the story arc and do what I swore I would never do today; I watch some TikTok on my phone to cheer myself up. My flu is getting worse, and I figure that I deserve a break from the norm. A Panda chewing on a giant carrot would cheer me up if only I could find it in the hundreds I have saved. Instead of cheering myself up, I get annoyed. Seeing TikTokkers pointing up to their video’s north, south, and west corners and telling me how and what to eat drives me wild. Self-righteous patronizing gobshites, every last one of them.

All the best

Stay fab

Adele