Head Rambles

Rambles around the head of a Senior Citizen

Get on yer bike, Bertie

By Grandad at 12:18 pm on Monday, November 13, 2006

Wonderful news!

The government must finally have sorted out all the problems with the Health Service. They must have rebuilt all those schools that were falling down. They must have sorted out the mess that is Special Needs Care, and Care for the Elderly. In fact they must have resolved all those problems that have been plaguing us for so long.


Because they are spending €40,000,000 [yes - that’s forty million euro] on a cycleway along the Dublin coast from Bray to Sutton, and they could only be doing that if the money wasn’t needed anywhere else.

Now the people of Ireland, from Malin Head to Carnsore Point, from Louth to Kerry have been demanding this cycleway for years. It is almost a national obsession. It is a vitally needed resource that is going to bring in millions of euro to the country. Not to mention the tourists. This has been a political hot potato for decades. In fact, I can remember Eamonn De Valera mentioning the need for a cycleway from Bray to Sutton in one of his speeches back in the 60s.

So we can all rest happy now, safe in the knowledge that our money [yes - it’s our money; not the governments] is being spent so wisely.

Bertie - get on your bike…..

kick it on kick.ie

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Fat chance

By Grandad at 10:52 am on Monday, November 13, 2006

There is yet another drive on by the Department of Health to try to reduce obesity in Ireland.

Mary Harney
Our congratulations to our minister on her initiative.

A footnote:

Has anyone ever explained that weird statistical anomaly during the year when the average weight of the Irish people as a whole dropped by 20% for a week or two?
Unfortunately the minister missed it. She was out of the country at the time.

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On the road to nowhere

By Grandad at 10:59 am on Sunday, November 12, 2006

It has happened again.

I went down for the paper and someone asked me for directions. Do I look like a walking Ordnance Survey? I must do, because it is virtually impossible to stray outside without being asked for directions to here or there.

Now you have to understand the area where I live. It is very scenic, but it is a maze of winding roads, with junctions all over the place. Some of those junctions are farm tracks and not roads, and other junctions are nicely hidden on bends. And of course our County Council don’t really believe in road signs. They think signs would detract from the charm of the area. Maybe they’re right, but it means a lot of people get lost.

It it a nightmare giving directions. It’s not a simple “go down to the end of that road and you’re on the motorway”. It’s more of a “go up that road ’till you come to a junction with a big house on the left. Turn right, but not sharp right because that’s Paddy’s farm. Immediately past the graveyard on your left there is a hidden junction on the right. Take that etc etc.” Do you see what I mean?

I used to give long detailed instructions that were accurate, but I knew they were confused. On a couple of occasions, I told them to jump into the car and I’d bring them. They were delighted, until we arrived at their destination and they remembered they had a car and now had to walk all the way back.

Then I started to get lazy, and I’d just send them down to the village and tell them to ask someone there.

Now I’m getting old and nasty. Now I just send them up to the top of the road. It’s so easy. “Yes. You are on the right road. Keep going straight on this road for about five miles”. That brings them up to the top of the mountains. It is a complete wilderness up there. There is nothing except mile after mile of bog. You can drive for an hour without even seeing a sheep. It is very beautiful and the views are fantastic. But you are unlikely to find your way out.

There are probably several dozen tourists up there by now, of different nationalities. They are still looking for their destinations, but of course there is no one to ask. Maybe they meet one another from time to time and swap stories.

So here is a message for anyone intending to visit my area. Bring a very detailed map. Do not stop and ask that tall bloke with a grey beard and pipe for directions. Unless of course you like bogs.

Filed under: On the road Leave A Comment »

Does my bum look big in this?

By Grandad at 1:01 pm on Saturday, November 11, 2006

Some time ago, Herself decided to order some - what shall we call them? - intimate undergarments. She chose a company in the UK and asked me to order them on-line for her.

I had no problem with this. I do most of the on-line buying anyway. Even the groceries.

So I duly filled out the order form, and was very careful to enter her name and our address.

The company was very efficient. The order arrived swiftly, and it was precisely what Herself wanted. It came in a nice package with a friendly letter inside. The package was even nicely decorated so that, while being discreet, it left no doubt as to the contents.

And here is where the problem started.

You see, I had used my own credit card which [of course] had my name on it. I had also used my own e-mail address. Now they obviously took the credit card name as being the customer. A reasonable assumption. So the parcel arrived addressed to me. I also received an email saying they hoped the garments fitted all right.

My mother always taught me to reply to letters, so I wrote back to the nice lady, thanking her for the order and her nice e-mail. I told her that I hadn’t actually tried the garments on yet as I was the wrong shape. I did tell her though that Herself was wearing them and was delighted. She apologised. She said they would change the name in their computer. She never did though.

Since then Herself has ordered a lot more “items” from the same place. They always come addressed to me. I get nice brochures from them too, in clear plastic envelopes. I also get e-mails from them with nice pictures of pretty ladies wearing nearly nothing.

I hope the police don’t raid my computer, or I’ll be down as a sex offender. And the postman gives me very strange looks. In fact he has taken to throwing our post through the letterbox and running away. And I can’t go into the Post Office at all.

It has its upside though. I’ve just received a lovely e-mail from them advertising “The Trinny and Susannah Magic Knickers” with before and after photographs. I’ve a choice of “The Tummy Flattner Thong”, “The Bum Lifter” or “The Bum, Tum and Thigh Reducer”. I can’t decide which would suit me best…..

Nearly underwear

kick it on kick.ie

Filed under: Around the house2 Comments »

Does my bum look big in this? [part 2]

By Grandad at 12:00 pm on Saturday, November 11, 2006

Herself has just read my last post [Does my bum look big in this?] God help me.

She is now standing behind me with a nasty looking carving knife and is insisting that I take dictation, as she wishes to say something here. I take no responsibility whatsoever. If there are spelling mistakes, it’s because the knife looks damn sharp and I’m nervous.

Don’t be fooled by Himself - The Blacky Lacey bit was for him.

I blame myself really. He has been acting strangely for the past few months. As it happened I had just read an article claiming that men over a certain age had symptoms of the menopause. I thought back to Coronation Street a while ago [for those of you who have a life and don’t follow the serial, it was about the death of Fred the Butcher, who on his wedding morning and while visiting his bit on the side, went and had a heart attack and died]. Himself cried himself to sleep that night.

I took action. When I was making the porridge next morning I ground up my H.R.T. and stirred it in his bowl. I added brewers yeast for the nerves. A good spoonful of brown sugar and he was none the wiser. After a few weeks he was a new man! In fact we watched the new adaptation of Jane Eyre and he didn’t shed a tear when Jane’s only friend at the orphanage died of pneumonia!

Unfortunately he has developed a lovely little pair. Hence the lingerie.

I think it is for the greater good.

She is gone now, so I can deny it all. It is a pack of lies and I will swear on the Bible that I never cried at Coronation Street. I mean, would I? You all know me now. I may be old, but I’m still a man. But she is right about the boobs. I did wonder where they came from….

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