There’ll be days like this!

Throughout our very short stay on this wee green planet, we will recall many moments in history, which are significantly relevant and personal to us. Yes, these will of course include cherished family memories. Your first real girlfriend or boyfriend. That first kiss. Engagements, weddings, your first child, christenings, communions and the deaths of family, friends and loved ones. Very private, intimate periods in our own historic time clock, where for an instant, time quite literally stands still. We will remember those seconds, minutes and hours as though they were yesterday. These snapshots of joy, tears and often sadness, live with us forever and to a certain extent make us who we are today.

Outside of these special “Family memories”, we might just recall momentous moments, in a sporting love affair. As you know, I have a passion for the men in blue and white. Who proudly wear the Thistle of Scotland and play with heart on “God’s Golden Acre”. That’s Murrayfield to those who don’t follow the game played with that egg shaped ball. “I was there”, to coin Max Boyce’s catchphrase, when Tony Stanger ran down the touchline, like a demented Giraffe, to score in the corner. We would defeat Will Carling’s pompous England and p#@s off Brian Moore, for the rest of his life. Winning only our third ever Grand Slam. I marked the occasion by getting a tattoo. Hoping to add the years, 1991, 1992 and so on, to the roll of honour. Alas, 28 years later and I am still holding my breath. “Maybe next year?” has become my rugby catchphrase!

There are work memories. That first job in the real world. The moment we set a path, to follow in the footsteps of Dick Whittington. I did just that. Though to be honest, I got the train from Edinburgh to London, to ask “Gies a job”. We were told by, none other than Maggie Thatcher, that there were boundless opportunities in her Conservative Utopia. I was prepared to test the waters and took my chances in Londinium. I slept on my sister’s kitchen floor in Liverpool Street. Managed to find work in the Business Design Centre. With my very first pay cheque of £125, I tubed into Covent Garden and bought a salmon pink shirt, from a designer shop called Reiss.

We can remember historic, world shattering moments in time. The older generations have their man on the moon. Also, the “Where were you?”, when you heard the news that JFK was shot by LHO, who in turn was shot by Jack Ruby. More modern history gives us Berlin’s iron curtain wall, being torn apart by the hands of the people, as the USSR finally broke up. The space shuttle exploding up just after takeoff. The Gulf Wars. The blowing up of the Twin Towers and so on. We have so many Iconic Historical Happenings committed to memory, that I often wonder just how many more I need in my lifetime.

Much, much closer to home,we have witnessed two very recent life defining Tsunamis Referendum. These have and will change the face of Ireland forever. In May 2015 there was the “Same-sex Marriage Referendum”. The result was an overwhelming 62% in favour of amending the laws to give equal rights to ALL. Was this result ever in doubt? With such a large number of new, younger, generational activists, wanting to make their mark on Ireland’s Wikipedia listing.

Who would have guessed that only three years later, almost to the day, there would be another Referendum, defining the mood of a country’s people? A now very modern Ireland, would “Repeal The 8^th” by an even larger landslide majority. Nearly 70% of the population voted for “YES” on Friday last. A result that demonstrated the will of the people of Ireland, to give women a choice. Sometimes, though not often enough, this is just the best wee country in the world.

Yet, so many of our Political Glitterati, who used “Repeal The 8^th” as a campaigning board, were so far out of touch with their own electorate. You have to wonder and speculate, just which country did they inhabit, whilst assessing their people’s opinions? 

It wasn’t Ireland, that’s for sure!

“To vote or not to vote, that is the question?”

I cannot vote in the upcoming referendum, as I am not an Irish citizen. In my opinion, that’s how it should be. To remove The 8^th Amendment from the Irish Constitution, is a matter for the people of Ireland and “Boi, oh Boi!” is everyone engaged. Unfortunately, this has released the absolute worst, from far too many people. Stoked by a social media tsunami, of hidden faceless individuals and groups “Trump-eting” false news stories, 24/7, on both sides of the divide.

Never in my half a century on this wee green planet, have I ever witnessed such a divisive, disruptive and downright nasty campaign. Even the recent referendum on “The Scottish Question” of Independence, held a few years ago, did not get anywhere near as brutal. Believe you me, it was heavily argued on both sides, but there just wasn’t the level of bitterness shown towards opposing camps. There are of course faults on both sides of this polarising debate.

“The 8^th” has become a by-word for dirty tricks, half-truths and misinformation on a biblical scale. Each side taking nuclear strikes, let alone pop-shots, at anyone who may just happen to hold an opposing opinion. Put the merest part of your body, be that only a fingernail, above the parapet and it will be instantly obliterated. There appears to be, a genuine vile hatred, towards people who merely have a contradictory point of view.

RTE and other broadcasters, have been running “Live” debates ad-nauseam. These have rapidly deteriorated into shouting and pointing matches. Both sides accusing their fellow men and women, of deception, distortion and fabrication! Not even seasoned presenters, have control over the madding crowds. Sitting in the cheap seats, shouting and sneering at people, who are wearing a different badge.

“Repealing The 8^th”, has shown our true colours, as an intolerable species. Is it any wonder that we are constantly at each other’s throats? There is no humanity, no compassion or any civility when it comes to the issues. Yet, there ought to be. As responsible voting adults, we should be able to debate and argue, both side of the coin. No need to resort to vitriol, narrow-mindedness and bigotry.

Perhaps the whole issue should have been taken out of the political arena? There should have been just one information pamphlet, from the Referendum Commission. Explaining, in very plain, simple English, what would happen should you vote “Yes or No”? A ban on posters and promotional material. A ban on canvassing. A ban on broadcasting and a ban on political posturing. Messaging taken off the streets, the issues raised in the homes of Irish Families. Debated in private, away from the glaring eyes of media intrusion.

After all, it is a supportive, loving family that women will need, if they are ever unfortunate enough, to be in a position to have to consider the subject of termination. Families will have to deal with the consequences and fallout. Not the “Look at me”, media hungry individuals we are witnessing, in both camps.

It is abundantly clear, judging by the very recent local media imagery, that many in positions of responsibility, even on our Council, are somehow just not thinking straight. Photographs of “Men Only”, standing to attention, some laughing and some sneering, whilst holding placards. Have received the political backlash they deserve. Just who thought that was a good idea? Quite rightly those involved have been castigated and chastised, allowing “Photoshop Aficionados”, to have a field day. Using the canvas provided, to ridicule the absurdity of the gathering.

Voting is not a God given right, it was surely won. No matter your opinion, you need to vote. I’d go so far as to say, that legislation should be introduced to ensure “You use it or you lose it!” We need to fine people who don’t vote, or take away that right at the very next opportunity. They’ll soon get the message.

The rights and wrongs of “The 8^th” campaign tactics, will be remembered for years to come. Leaving a lasting legacy. Ultimately changing the way we look at those who represent us, both locally and nationally.

Don’t waste your vote, use it wisely.

“I wanna to tell you a story!”

They say that everyone has a book inside them, well I am no different. If the truth be told, I started writing a wee volume or two some time ago. I have just never actually been brave enough to take the next step to find if a publisher might be interested. Or an agent, for that matter. Maybe one day soon, I’ll bite the bullet and take the next step?

It’s been such a bad couple of weeks, in terms of sad news stories, the Editor has indulged me.  Giving permission to print a selection of extracts. I can judge people’s opinions and comments. Here’s a flavour.

Sneak Peek 1; “Pick me, pick me!” shouted all the golf balls, who sat in boxes of three, on the shelves of Old Tom’s pro golf shop.

One golf ball, Four was his name, said nothing as he knew that “Slasher Harris”, the golf ball widow maker, was choosing his “Victims!” The ones he wanted for his game that day. Four had heard through the Ball Vine, that this golfer was bad news for any golf ball! He was to be avoided at ALL costs!!!!!

Four and his two brothers, shared a small cardboard box, with one undersized cellophane window. Their box, was decorated in the same way as every Gallaway Family box. There were millions of Gallaways around the world, none of the Gallaway balls would ever be as special as Four.

Four was truly a very, very special little white golf ball. You see, he was made with one extra dimple, which would make him extraordinary. Four didn’t know of this extra dimple, which would propel him to many, many great golfing victories. He would become a Living Legend amongst golf balls.

Slasher Harris’s hand hovered over the box containing Four and his two brothers. Four shivered and prayed, that Slasher would select his cousins. The number Threes or number Ones, who sat on the shelf beside him. He tightly closed his eyes, calling on The Great Golden Bear in the sky, (The Patron Saint of golf balls), that he would not be picked.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sneak Peek 2; Some of these single golf balls had fallen to the very bottom of the seemingly never-ending, pongy pocket and were being squashed by the boxes of golf balls above them. Also, in this pocket was an amazing array of plastic and wooden golf tees, all manner of shapes, colours and sizes. Some very long tees, some very short tees, some tees that looked like Mohican Indians, with their spiky coloured hair pointing skywards. Then there were lots and lots of sad, injured tees. Tees that had been broken, tees that had been split and some tees, had even had their heads removed! Four was beginning to think that maybe this wasn’t the place he wanted to be after all.

An old malodorous, slightly worn yellowed golf ball, recognised this new box of golf balls and rolled over to say hello.

“Hello chaps, my name is Dun Poll 66!” he said in a very authoritarian, almost military like manner.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sneak Peek 3; “Get off my dimples!” shouted an old whiffy lake ball, wearing a curiously, yellowing, greenish discoloured cover.

“Well HELLO, new boy!” said a rather strikingly, pearlescent pink coloured golf ball, named Lady. Four assumed that this ball was in Had-a-win’s bag by mistake. Quite clearly the ball belonged to the women’s Club Champion, Paula-Ice-Creamer.

“What’s the rush?” continued Lady, in a husky voice.

“I’m on my way to the other side of the pocket, to see Dun Poll 66.” replied Four.

“That old ball has no spin left in him. Why would you want to go and see him?” Lady continued.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sneak Peek 4; “Well I am a MacGregor from the clan MacGregor. Had-a-win found me on the links of St.Andrews, The Holy Grail of Golf. See, see, see...” he said excitedly, spinning around to show a rather faded logo printed on his dimpled bottom.

Four squinted at the logo and sure enough it read “From the Home of Golf, St.Andrews”. There was what appeared to be a rather faded blue flag, with a white cross, underneath the writing.

To be continued.

A barrel FULL of Rotten Apples!!!

The fallout from the Cervical Check debacle, will I have absolutely no doubt, rumble on for many a week to come. There now appears to be revelation after revelation, that all is not well in the higher echelons of Government’s many broken departments.

Our HSE, is spending more time and money looking after itself. Rather than the very people it was set up to protect. Does it really surprise anyone, we are once again being told, that more and more of tax payers’ money is being completely and utterly wasted? No! It has been going on for what seems like millennia. Our representatives in power, can do little or nothing to affect positive change. In fact, successively elected TDs to the Dail, have tried to take on Government Departments, only to fall heavily on their own swords.

Such is the secretive nature, of just who and what, runs the likes of the HSE. We, the very members of the public who pay significant taxes to prop up Ireland’s “Leaning Towers”, are left wondering, just what needs to be done to fix the unfixable?

All last week, senior medical practitioners, were openly saying the HSE is “Banjaxed!” Tell us something we do not know? Every dog in the street, knows that our Senior Civil Servants run the country. Their lap dogs appear to be the very people WE elect. The tails wag the dogs and these poor, old, mange ridden pooches are of course the Minister in charge. They are being laughed at behind closed doors. It seems that one department after another, is just lining up the Ministers to be shot. Minister bashing, it’s a game of sport. The harder you bash them, the better we protect ourselves.

It’s also endemic. Our “D4” Housing Minister has, apparently, been massaging the homeless figures! Now there’s another shock? I think not. Colluding, conspiring, plotting and scheming, to keep them under the “Magical” 10,000 mark. He has “Re-categorised” what does and doesn’t define being homeless. No doubt egged on by senior departmental staff, who are happy to be in cahoots with him in mysterious, secretive meetings. Wouldn’t it be advantageous to be a fly on the wall? To have undisclosed access to minutes of such gatherings, would be priceless. To know for sure, just who is pulling the strings?

Surely there must have been someone in attendance, during such forums, with a modicum of common sense? You would think there might have been one voice, just one voice saying, “Hold on a minute, maybe this is the wrong thing to do?”

It appears, that there are no moral gatekeepers in any of our Government Departments? If there were, then Vicky Phelan would not have had to stand up in court and be attacked by the HSE’s legal team. Or should that be “Legal Pariahs?”

What has gone on in the last 2 weeks, has been nothing short of appalling, atrocious and abysmal. In this modern day Ireland, our Political Glitterati should not be fearful of correcting, or chastising Senior Civil Servants. These people have an air of invincibility about them. They are in their own eyes, untouchable! After all have we ever seen or witnessed one actually being sacked, for any form of negligence? Of course we have not. The fall guy is always the Minister, or at the very least, a Junior Minister.

This culture within such bodies has to be broken. Therein lies the toughest of challenges. No one can shape or influence any logical form of change management, when it is resisted at every single turn. This culture, this discrimination, this lack of humility, flows freely through the arteries of such big organisations and out of every single tentacle. We see, to a lesser extent, the direct affect this has had on Waterford and the wider SE region.

 

Lack of investment in our hospital, education system, transport infrastructure....etc is not the fault of poor, pitiable, pathetic public representation. Rather, it is the direct influence of Senior Civil Servants simply not “Allowing” this to happen.

The next time you get that “Knock-knock at the door”, asking for your vote, enquire how many rotten apples they are prepared to toss out of the barrel, then decide!

“Off with her head!”

“Off with her head!” is of course a line from that wonderful book “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, published in 1865. Written by the English author Charles Dodgson or to give him his more recognisable name, Lewis Carroll. A book that’s been read to millions of children at bedtime and no doubt still is? Enjoyed by every single parent, making each of the characters come to life, as they were finally getting the kids off to sleep. A darker commentary of literary nonsense, which some say still has relevance in today’s society. 

Boy oh boy, we could with do with The Queen of Hearts right now. With all the balderdash surrounding the debacle that is Cervical Check, will we actually see any heads rolling? The usual stock position of Government and Senior Department Officials is to blame someone else. Nobody appears to be accountable when it comes to asking the awkward questions. Our history in finding the actual person or persons liable, is like finding a needle in the proverbial haystack. This not a recent phenomena either. Ireland’s incompetence in actually discovering “Who done it”, stretches a long, long way back, just like Kim Kardashian’s bootie!

Just what Vicky Phelan has had to endure, is nothing short of appalling, atrocious and unspeakable. For our HSE to put this mother through a court case, shows contempt for this member of the public it should be protecting. As more and more information is released, we are now discovering that Vicky was asked to produce evidence that she had suffered loss and harm! You have to ask yourself, just who is advising these people in their ivory towers? The untouchable Senior Civil Servants, on this wee green isle, who have conspired to play political roulette with peoples’ lives.

We can enjoy kicking the Minister for Health and also our hushed Taoiseach, on this matter. It’s the layers, upon layers of bureaucracy in the HSE that need to be kicked. Like so many others I know and fear that this will never happen. There are so many gate keepers in our Civil Service, it would be easier to discover the dark secrets of the Masonic Order, before we actually find out who was responsible.

The HSE believed that they had a case against Vicky Phelan. They somehow thought that it would be appropriate to drag her and her family through a very public court case. Having asked her to sign a pre-court gagging clause, they imagined she would capitulate, with the threat of her case being played out in the glare of the National media. Thankfully, Vicky stood up to the enormous pressure she must have been under and decided to fight. She wanted other women to know that they were not alone and they had a voice.

Our Minister tells us that he has trust in the system and it’s the Management that concerns him? The very Management who felt it suitable and appropriate to collude maliciously, aided by costly lawyers, as they built their case. Just how much more evidence does the Minister need, to show that the HSE is rotten to the core, when protecting itself?

Ireland has an inexcusable record, of not righting wrongs. Garda whistleblowers, the banking crisis, tribunal after tribunal and much more besides. Each and every injustice should be tackled and lessons inevitably learned. Alas, we never get to witness a fall from grace. Quite clearly heads should be rolling. Like the Hydra, there are far too many heads to cut off and not enough sharp knives to start the process.

In the UK, Senior Figures appear to be held accountable. We have just seen Amber Rudd, finally falling on not her own sword, but the sword of Theresa May. May was after all Home Secretary when “Immigration targets” were implemented. Perhaps Rudd lost the confidence of her senior department heads and it was they who plotted her downfall? No matter where you look or how you spin it, the real power of any Government, is in the hands of Senior Civil Servants.

Over 200 women have been wronged and I have no doubt some have died, due to mismanagement. Just how many officials will be held to account? I fear very few.