Today I was reminded of an incident in Howth whilst walking Buzz and Finn last week with my friend that made me smile. I was walking up Howth Hill and Finn had a small dose of diarrhea which needed tending to as some of it went onto his back leg. I had a tissue in the pocket of my coat which I took out and began to wipe the smear off the back of his leg.
Whilst I was down there, I also decided to give a little wipe to his tail end. As I completed the act whilst standing up, I became aware of cars driving past. I realized that there was a distinct probability that someone in a car had the misfortune of witnessing me wiping my dog’s arse with a tissue.
Last week there was another incident regarding Buzz. I was with my friend and again we are walking up the hill when a couple of ladies passed us by. My friend was walking Buzz for me as I had Finn. Buzz pooped. There was nothing odd about the event other than the fact that I picked it up and bagged it.
Again, I couldn’t help but think of what the two ladies were thinking. Probably something along the lines of ‘My, now, that’s true friendship, where she picks up her friend’s dog’s poop’, not realizing that it is my dog.
Perhaps I should have apprehended them to explain the situation but I am pretty sure it would have only made things look weirder than they already were.
This is a pervading and persistent affliction previously coined by the Viz Profanisaurus. Arse-ritis has now reared its ugly head again during Covid lockdown. The condition is identified by stiffness of limbs due to not being arsed to do an awful lot.
Sufferers also complain of procrastination and frustration. Frustration is primarily aimed at Netflix due to the lack of entertainment on offer, particularly when every single item has been watched by the sufferer (and critiqued on IMDB).
Regular exercise and a reduction in complex carbohydrates have been shown to diminish the symptoms somewhat. Severe hand cramp related to excessive remote-control usage can almost disappear.
Emergency departments around the country have also seen a marked increase in patients presenting with finger-itis. Some patients have required surgical removal from their mobile phones and speech therapy to allow them to learn to speak to another human face to face.
The minister for health has been contacted regarding issuing a statement but it appears now that he may also be showing symptoms of this cruel condition as he is unavailable to comment.
The department of health have also been contacted regarding launching an awareness campaign but sadly they too have been affected by this condition. All we can do now is pray for a cure.
When I was a nurse training in Ballinasloe there were two night clubs that we always frequented. The Palm Club and was in Hayden’s hotel which was very well known for many many years but is sadly no more. The other was the East County – less well known- which was in the East County Hotel.
Our weekly frolics were best described as heading to ‘The Palm for a man’ and ‘The East for a beast’- a phrase coined by my good self. Following a night on the beer, boogying and throwing shapes we would all then head to the local Burger bar which was called Mighty Bite. However, we had to rename it to Mighty Shite as the burgers weren’t the best. I was a woeful word play artist even back then. Just couldn’t help myself.
There were two giant artificial palm trees outside The Palm Club where love stories and shifting began. They must have been 6 feet tall, weighed a ton and one of them got pinched one night.
I often think what the thief’s must have said to the Garda if they had been apprehended.? Would they have remarked when asked ‘What have we here fellas, what’s with the palm trees?’
‘Sorry Garda but the two girls we were with would only promise to shift us if we brought this back to their back garden’. They were never returned- the palm trees- and we all really missed them.
The sea was cold today. But as always, invigorating. Once or twice, it has been so cold that my skin stings but thankfully today was not one of them. I let Buzz and Finn loose, and they were ecstatic. Whilst picking up Buzz’s poo from the pebble beach I had to pick up a few of the stones that it had landed on as he had done quite an effective stone smearing job.
It reminded me of a story when my brother, his wife and their young children went on a picnic to the beach. They had to scale a bit of a cliff to get down to the beach. At the end of the day, they packed up and headed back up the cliff to their car.
When my brother reached the car, he was perplexed as the backpack he was carrying was very heavy. Having eaten their picnic he had thought that there would be less weight to carry back up to the car.
He remarked to his wife’, Crikey, what have you got in here? rocks?’. She didn’t reply as she was getting the children into the car. He asked her again. She peered over the roof of the car and said, ‘No, I don’t think so, have a look’. He opened the bag and it was full of rocks.
His beautiful wife was in stitches when she recounted this story to me.Just as she was on the day, she filled the bag with rocks. My brother was able to laugh about it too but it may have taken a little time on the journey home for him to get the joke.
Over fifty homeless people have died so far this year. Two were found this week. Both men in their early 40’s. I saw three tents on Malahide beach last week. It is too sad.
I wrote this 8 years ago for the Dubai Irish Society annual when I was their chairperson. At the time it was referencing the end of the recession that we were all experiencing. However, it seems to be just as relevant now.
Oh, and just so that I can manage your expectations. My twitter bio says that I am a woeful poet and I try to maintain that standard at all times.
Covid Christmas 2020
Our country is kneeling at the altar
It’s promising to comply, to never again falter
The craic and the laughter seem to fade away
But the spirit of our country is only fleetingly held at bay
Our history and our courage will always stand us in good stead
Our love for our country is in our hearts and in our head
We have been through much worse with our heads held high
The love for my country brings a tear to my eye
The diaspora champion our country with their might charm and cheer
Reminding everybody why the Irish are held so dear
This challenge will not define us but will only increase our might
The spirit of our country is our burning brightest light
By
Adele Leahy
Covid Christmas, We got this
So, shall dis dancing (social distancing) be ok?
Or shall I move further away?
I want to gel with folks
Not buy hand gel and fear I croke
Must I buy a meal with my pint?
Can I not just drink and be ‘ag caint?’
Sesame Street’s’ Grover’ explains ‘near, far ‘
But I just want to drive forever in my car.
I am desperate for a hug
And a snog in a snug
We are good at our compliance
But I need some feckin romance
We’ll get through this but we have lost so many
We’ll light a candle for a euro, when once it was a penny
Santa is Covid safe and so are his crew
Even the naughty will get presents too
We will slay this virus and live free again
Once we have one another all our efforts are not in vain.
By
Adele Leahy
Sesame Street-Near, far (A fav of mine from when I was a kid. And now, also. To be honest, even more so now)
Just because the youngsters have text short codes. Why can’t we?
Menopause text short codes
HFF-Hot feckin flush
FBSC-Feeling bat shit crazy
HATB-Head about to burst
FIWHF -Feckin insomnia with hot flush
The menopause is rather undignified and relentless. Nobody escapes. My favorite symptoms are the sweats. Whenever I get them, I resemble Shrek in a sauna. I have reached a point of indifference as fretting just leads to more sweating. They say that men sweat and ladies’ glow. No shit Sherlock. I don’t so much glow as glare.
Menopause Blues
The frustration with the perspiration makes me feel flushed away.
And my emotions in disarray.
I was going to write a poem about it but my hormonal and neurotic mind got in the way.
I am full of hot air and feeling the blues.
It’s taking all of my energy not to blow a feckin fuse.
There, I feel better now, with that off my sweaty chest. My menopause minx always knows best.
Where is The Menopause Minx, aka TMM, when I need her, eh? Could we please have her as a modern-day Superhero-Purleeasse.
She would be my ultimate superhero. Blowing ice cold air onto me when I am mid hot flush. Giving me extra strength to pull on my spanx when I have over indulged the day before? Providing me with a somewhat rational mind when my emotions are off the Richter scale. I’m off now to blow that fuse I have been promising myself all day. I deserve it.
I was being fair in describing him as fair. Pat had skin that was almost translucent. He was Irish and I met him at the fair. He left me for a minute and returned with a minute ceramic leprechaun that he had won at a stall.
His friend Liam passed by and asked him to stall as they had had a row in the bar the night before. Apparently,they had stolen a boat that had no oars and therefore they had nothing to row with.
It turned out that the publican of their fav bar owned the boat and decided to bar them both. Pat wanted to finish the last drop of his drink but couldn’t as the publican punched him for stealing his boat. He showed me the wound by his ear and was fierce wound up by the assault.
Liam was looking for the Waltzer’s and Pat directed him towards them. We headed towards a tree and sat down. I told him that if he was looking for a shift (Irish slang for snog) that he was barking up the wrong tree.
