Post number 503

Audrey Hetburns dresses in the Newbridge center.(try the link)


Thomas St.


Jenny Vander, she sells antique dresses as worn by the Hollywood elete.


Kings Hospital school now known as the Law Societies HQ


Kite surfer on Dollymount strand.


Imagine I crossed the 500th posting and didn't notice!
At least some people are reading it now.

I was working too much over the last few weeks with little result, like "A one armed paper hanger" as my friend Laurie Walsh in Australia would say.

At the risk of repeating myself, something happened a few years ago. I picked up a lady at Heuston station going out to the Spa well pub, she didn't say a word and sat in stony silence all the way.
As you come out of Templeogue village and you approach the Cheshire home the road widens up and I was doing 40 MPH when I was stopped.
He was a real pain in the ass, asked me what the speed limit was, each tome I said 40 and he would ask again and again. Then I said that perhaps it might be 30. "Then why were you doing 40?" He checked the tyres,lights,tax and insurance.
My picture was affixed to the new fare card with a paper clip, so I was to be fined for that as well."You passenger will be fined for having no seat belt"
With that she explode in tears, she howled with great emotion which shook us both.
The copper was so addled that he said.

"Take that woman home at once" There was no fine.

She had been at the funeral of her best friend and had been in such shock from the moment that she heard the news that she couldn't cry..
The aggressiveness of the Garda broke through the dam and released a tidal wave of grief.

I think all us men can all be a bit like her at times.

I had bought a box set collectors addition of Cinema Paradiso, 3 DVDs director cut and a CD with 20+ arrangements of the wonderful music soundtrack.

So I watched it once more last night and today "The laxative of emotions" has worked and I feel great.

Now we must clean the house before we take a few days in Kerry.

Down in my local pub there is a corner where taxi drivers and ex taxi drivers sit, the misfits.
Among our group is Joe he is around 80 and goes under the nickname "La Cukkeracha"
When Joe drinks whiskey he bursts into song and we all get thrown out.
The barman knows that one of us was bold and got him the whiskey.
But in a few days we are allowed back in again.

Such is life.

I brought Jo home the other day he turned to me and he had bad news.
His Grandson had gone to Thailand to visit a friend who lived there and he hired a motorbike, he crashed and is in a coma in hospital.
His daughter and her husband had to fly over to be at his bed.
Last word is that they are holding him in a coma until the brain gets a chance to recover from the trauma, then they can assess the damage.
Poor old lad, he was a Naval chef and called out to me as I drove off. I'll bake you an apple tart john.

So say a silent prayer to which of the Gods you turn to.