Anakana Schofield

Heard humming via the mouths of mice this morning on Kildare Street….

 

Ding Dong Bell

Pussy’s in the Well

Who put her in?

Little Johnny Spin

Who pulled her out?

Big Johnny Stout.

The Mystery Mots of Olli Rehn … a stirring title for a novel, no?

Settling back with a hot port and my knitting to watch Prime Time trying to fathom what is the status of the bail agus out. It’s reminding me of Wimbledon. Is the ball in or out?

Some Euro policy fella just compared the situation to a sinking ship where the captain tethers himself and all the crew to the mast! His final sentence in the ongoing interview ended with the words “existential crisis.”

P’haps port isn’t strong enough for this watching?

*

On a weather note, the overnight low will fall to its lowest this season so far on Sat night. -2. Flurries are forecast. This not a first, however, as reported on this hyper weather ruminating blog, there was a previous no show, dirty stop out bunch of flurries.

The gale continued impressively today.  There was even the occasional howl off those winds.

Crikey .. now they’re really turning things up a notch.

Tmro’s Graun headline…Experts to be parachuted in to finalise Ireland bailout.

I hope they watch where they land, it could be a mighty hole of a ghost estate, or er, on top of the horns of a bullock, ubiquitous dog shite, cig butt, empty Supermacs wrappers pavement decor or head first into a pile of silage. Hopefully they’ll have google maps on it and the good people will assist by waving their repossession orders from the bank skywards…

B agus O

In every sense of the word today was a weather event.

Am following matters closely in Ireland over the bailout. The bailout that everyone knows is coming, except the Finance Minister and Biffo.  The BBC and the Financial Times were reporting talks as early as Sat night and still the Dail is maintaining a near Masonic silence and secrecy over whether or not they’ve taken place.

Particularly enjoyed the British papers headlines (everyone has the word Ireland emblazoned on front page)

My faves:

EU tells Ireland Take The Bailout. (Judging from my kitchen table it is not in the national characteristic to “do what you’re told” so good luck on that one.)

Ireland on the Brink.  (could apply to any average Thursday.)

Ireland isn’t working: Celtic Tiger becomes sick man of Europe.

While the Irish newspapers still lead with the more tranquil

Taoiseach insists Ireland not applying to Europe for bailout.

To which we can only respond, erm how come the rest of the world do not believe him….

Another curious thing is the papers need to catch up with what’s already taken place. They are running these pieces about young people potentially fleeing the country, but we know from the figures people have already left. I’ve never heard so many Irish accents in the area here as in the past six months and this is not a place historically the Irish gravitate to. There aren’t even good flight routes to get here!

To add to the current inventory of woes, it’s -3 overnight in Dublin.

***

Here in the Wessst Coast it’s blowing a gale, the greenhouse splitting at the seams as I type. I’ve already had to do aerial moves to rescue a flying sledge and a turbine fishing net. The clouds are extraordinary and the trees, well they’re doing a fair bit of bee-bop out there.  Over by the supermarket there was a head banging line of conifers

Has anyone else noted what a boiled egg can do for late night melancholy?

The fact I am asking this at 4.16pm is just a coincidence.

Filthy weather today.

Last night however was the first misty fog, to be distinguished from distant sky fog. It was most George Eliot down on Broadway. Especially with a bellyful of chips and laughter of a Co Limerick woman beside me.

Books November

I am currently reading between four books.

Betty Lambert’s Crossings I am rereading slowly in preparation for the up and coming event at the Vancouver Public Library I am organizing. A group of us writers — Annabel Lyon, Juliane Okot Bitek, Claudia Casper, Renee Rodin and Lori Weidenhammer — are revisiting Crossings to see whether there are new readings to be had on the book. Lori, a performance artist will revisit a Lambert play)

Lambert’s Crossings is a book to be slowly digested and it is at times an immensely difficult but worthwhile digestion. The book possesses an unevenness — something that is necessary or fitting when you think about the uneven nature of the two main people it circulates around.

The other three books I am nesting with, in a remarkably different manner of reading, are three old Press Gang books:

1. Common Ground: Stories by Women

2. An Account To Settle The Story of the United Bank Workers (SORWUC).

3. Sometimes They Sang. Helen Potrebenko.

The first book I have read two or three of the stories and they made me think about space and the close confines in which the people live to each other and how people are invited into space. The second (non fiction) reads rather like an adventure (I’ve read much less successfully attempts at this in fiction!) and the third, I consider a vital novel (out of print naturally). All three contain strikes and picket lines in relation to women. I did not select them knowing this, in fact two of them I found on the side of the road. It’s curious what emerges when you open books in tandem or parallel.

Rhotic 3.6

I forgot 3.3.

The first time I forgot 2.6.

Once they’re forgot I can’t go back.

It’s not whittering, it’s transacting.

Rhotic 3.5

You always mix up where and were.

We’re getting tired of all this whittering.

 

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