A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Bins.

To start with, I can categorically state that I am not an animal lover! The fact that there is a bone almost as big as my lodger sitting on one of my best sheets in the middle of the living room doesn't tell you anything other than I am a very lackadaisical person. I would venture to say that for some I am maddeningly lackadaisical, luckily though they don't have to live with me but only put up with me in small doses - and vice versa.

On Tuesday I struggled into my entry (alleyway) with two heavy garbage bags. I noticed a smattering of white feathers laying on the ground and thought of the men during the war who received white feathers to indicate cowardice (I am reading a historical novel at the moment). Then I thought some cat has got lucky and some bird has gotten extremely unlucky. I carried the bags to the top of the entry because I don't think it is in the local bin mans' job description to come into entries or maybe it is a health and safety issue, maybe they may fall over fat cats lazing about after feasting on unlucky birds.

On my way back down the entry I startled the injured bird; don't get me wrong, it scared the bejesus out of me as it hobbled and flapped then sort of hopped and kinda flew into my back yard. I tried to stop it but I was just too late. Luckily though the kitchen door was shut tight. It is extremely unlucky for a bird to walk into your house all sorts of calamities await you if that happens - a country woman told me this so it must be true for they know all the best superstitions.

It huddled as close to the wall as it could possibly get and looked at me. You know that look? A pathetic, sorrowful and knowing look. The sort of look that we see from time to time but do not want to recognize. "Ohh what to do?" I thought. "Ohh no, not here" I said to it and scooped it up into a bucket as gently as I could and deposited it back out into the entry. Every household should have at least one bucket - and a few basins they're invaluable items. Very handy for all sorts of emergencies.

Some of my thoughts on coming in to have a coffee .. "it's a pigeon, a rat with wings! If it was a rat I'd have dropped a brick on its head! No I wouldn't! I'd have ran into the house squealing like a little girl and I'd have been shouting hysterically down the phone to my brother to bring me a big trap. Fat lot of good that would have done me for he isn't even in the country!" Pause ... "It is dieing though, it's back is all torn up, it's wing looks pretty bashed up and it's leg is mangled. The cat will probably come back and finish off the job. It's part of the nature of being a pigeon to get squashed by cars and tore asunder by things like cats. It's what happens to them"

After picturing it getting tore asunder I went back out to the entry and scooped it back up into the bucket and brought it back into my yard.

I played with the idea of bringing it down to my local vet but the thought of dandering down the road with an injured pigeon in a bucket was even beyond my eccentric ways. If I have any sort of reputation at all it would be totally demolished. They would be packing me off to the local lunatic asylum. Well, you don't try to save common pigeons - do you? No, if your going to save something it would have to be one of those more 'deserving' birds I guess. "It's dying" I thought. "Let it have a peaceful death." So I locked it in the shed with a little bread thinking. "It'll be dead in the morning."

Imagine my surprise the next morning when it hadn't died! The rubber gloves and plastic bags not needed. "You still with us?" (I have a habit of asking obvious questions). it was frightened and probably wondering why it wasn't dead yet so I went and got it some bread and milk and left it in the shed for another day. Next day I needed to reclaim my shed, I needed to get some laundry done so it skittered out into the yard, flapped, flapped then took off! "Yeh Hey!" I shouted after it, my good deed for the week. My feel good moment.

Sundays I like to break the routine up for the lodger by going somewhere different. We went to Whitehead we were away for at least four hours and when we got back it was almost that time of the day.. the gloaming. Before it got too dark I thought I'd do some domestic goddess type things starting with laundry. When I went out to the shed there was a shuffling sound. I jumped being easily frightened, looked down and guess who was back? It sat there quite calmly looking up at me. I quietly went about putting a wash on. It didn't come near me and I didn't go near it. "It's probably dying again" i thought. Well, I am not Doctor Doolittle, what do I know? I let it stay but I did tell it "You are a wild pigeon you don't have the homing gene".

Alive and hobbling this morning I chased it, this afternoon it is back. It is sitting out there and I am wondering are there any sanctuary's for common as muck street pigeons? I think it may have adopted me and I don't know the first thing about pigeons. Hope they don't carry bird flu.

Self Help Die Kits - And why Not? Terry Pratchett Argues For The Right To Die---When he Wants To.

The arguments for euthanasia are autonomy, mercy and justice; this debate arouses passions between those who support it as a voluntary aid in helping those who are already dieing and suffering and those who believe it is murder. The crux of the argument against any sort of euthanasia is that all human life is precious no matter what the quality of that life is.


Can we seriously consider euthanasia in cases of people who are suffering from dementia? These are some of the most vulnerable members in our society and to consider this course of action is not a light question. In a sense it kind of attacks the sort of society we believe that we have become; a caring, just, and for the most part respectful of the law society.


Tonight Terry Pratchett will present his case for euthanasia at the Dimbleby lectures and you can understand his position when you consider this smart intelligent and funny man now is suffering from Alzheimer's disease. His high profile has highlighted some of the difficulties that are faced by sufferers and their families. The Alzheimer society do not call for euthanasia but are concerned with end of life care, with highlighting care issues that not only affect the suffer but also the carers.


Alzheimer sufferers in effect become unminded, they in the end are no longer the individual that they were but can live for quite a few years in this state needing constant care. Pratchett said on radio 4's Today program. "There are plenty of people like me who would like to die when the time comes to die."


We often live our lives believing that we make our own choices but the reality is that often how our lives progress is often dictated by circumstances that we have little control over. Often we seem to spend our days dealing with 'the cards we've been dealt'. Considering that we seem to have so little control over our lives can we expect to have any control over our death?


The argument for the sanctity of human life is based in our cultural and historically religious set of moral beliefs but I believe that now that modern society is a more secular society that people are considering certain aspects of what it is to be human. Many people are more interested in the quality of their lives rather than the quantity. They also want to assert the right to make choices - easy ones and hard ones. Should we have the right to choose whether to live or die? Off course we should! ultimately it is our life.


Luckily there are people like Terry Pratchett who brings these issues to the fore.

No More CoCo Before Bedtime

It’s been one of those weeks – not again I hear you say. Could I be talking about local Northern Ireland politics? We have the DUP, the UUP, the TUV, the PUP, the SDLP. Is CoCo just another political party in ‘our wee country’, like the others on the scene continually looking back and failing to see the road ahead? Or am I thinking of the recent commercial acceptance that one of our favourite chocolate makers Cadburys will be bought over by Kraft Foods. So literally it is no more cocoa before bedtime. The end of a tradition many may say. Rather it is the end of a tradition that goes back a whole seven months. As last weekend saw the last ‘Tonight Show’ presented by Conan O’Brien. I get to watch CNBC here in Ireland and its normal programming consists of wall to wall financial news. But for two hours each weekend evening it shows the previous week’s ‘Tonight Show’. It didn’t matter who Conan’s guests were, as I always found his opening monologue the funniest part of the show. So I am going to say goodbye to Conan and Cadbury, with a little tear in my eye. But at least I still have our local entertainers up in Stormont Castle. This is a show that continues to survive cancellation, despite the fact that they have reading from the same tattered and worn scripts for years.

Slieve Croob An Easy Walk With Wonderful Views! - So I Am Told

I went for a three and a half mile hike on Sunday up Slieve Croob in the Dromara hills. I have been told that it is difficult to find not being well sign posted; though I didn't mind because I was with people who knew what they were doing and knew exactly where they were going.

I was not really sure what to expect never having done anything like this before and I must admit to having a sense of foreboding - considering the hangover and the miserable morning that I woke up to. I don't consider myself a terribly healthy person, my main fear was that I would not be able to keep up, or that I would fall down exhausted and have to be carried back to the car. A bit of a dead weight for the more experienced walkers. Now, I know with an impending hike and all those fears it is probably not a wise thing to go out the night before and have a drink but I have a friend and all I can say about her is "She is a very bad woman! And has always been a bad influence on me". I met her for a coffee but you know how one coffee sometimes leads to a beer? and well I am not quite sure how things developed from there. They never go as I imagine they should that much is for sure.

Back to the walk, I was assured that the forecast for Sunday was to be bright and sunny but I knew as we were driving up to the Dree Hill Road car park we had no chance of sunshine. Slieve Croob was shrouded in mist and snow was laying thick in places from a few weeks ago. It was absolutely freezing and sometimes you could hardly see your hand in front of your face. Let me tell you about the views I didn't see. They are beautiful (I Googled them). On a clear day you can see the higher peaks of the mountains of Mourne and down to Lough Neagh and over to Donegal and the famous cranes Samson and Goliath in Belfast. So I have been told.

I found it easier to walk at my own pace and not to try and keep up with some of the more experienced hikers who I think were quick marching. I wondered were they all ex service people. I bet they don't smoke or drink too much. However I walked along at my own pace when I realized they would not leave me behind but would stop and wait from time to time for me to catch up. I noticed how they all chatted casually as they walked up the steep road. I didn't, not so much, I let their voices caress my ears not paying much attention to anything that was being said just focusing on getting there and get there I did!

I was delighted when I reached the summit I wanted to do a little victory dance (as there was no view for me to 'wow' and 'ahhh' at but thought it probably better to conserve my energy for the rest of the walk. The summit itself is fascinating it has the remains of what I imagine to be cairns. They apparently give you half decent shelter from the elements. More importantly to me in that moment was the fact that I had made it and had not collapsed with fatigue and totally humiliated myself. I had a real sense of achievement. The Slieve Croob Hike (or walk) is regarded as an easy walk but an easy walk in my mind is a stroll along the towpath to the lock keepers cottage for coffee and cake (or something more if you're called Iris). This walk is daunting enough for an inexperienced walker and pushes you but not too much (thank God). But it pushed me enough!


We set off again and this time we were making our way down but there was no clear path to follow and the ground rough and swampy was totally covered in nature (obviously).. You know - animal droppings and grasses, plants and boulders- I am sure the other walkers would have known the names of all this stuff if I'd asked, but I can't walk and talk at the best of times. Some of it was springy and some stiff and crackly. All of it, I was convinced put there to trip me up. I put my hand out to steady myself on a fence and felt a prick I thought I'd touched the barbed wire but it was an icicle, a long shard. "Geri" I thought. "You are mad!" But, I was amazed that an icicle could prick me. No wonder nature scares me.

This part of the journey was spent focusing on staying upright and not breaking an ankle, so I still didn't talk much to my fellow hikers. I was told on the upward journey that this part of the journey was quite simple it was just some rolling drumlins so just a bit of walking up and going down. At times the mist cleared and I saw a bit of scenery that reminded me a little of Donegal. Rough with boulders here and there and the odd sheep, some broken stone walls and rough dense low growing vegetation. At one point walking across a field tripping and splashing through this terribly swampy ground the mist was so enveloping that I could barely make out the people who were walking in front of me. There was an eeriness, almost a sense of unreality and other worldliness. I was walking on my own and deep in my own thoughts. I imagined that Brigadoon could be just beyond behind the fingers of the swirling mist and that out there people where singing 'Almost like being in love'.

When I got to the spot where the front walkers were waiting for me a guy turned to me and said exactly the same thing! You see, I may not chat much to these people but we are obviously all soul mates of sorts!

There was a little bit of what I would call hysterical running in places that were steep and I just couldn't stop myself, luckily though I didn't land on my arse once and I didn't break or twist an ankle. I got down to the car park at the Slieve Croob inn all in one piece and my wee legs still wanted to walk. They hadn't caught up with my mind saying stop.

It was a great day, Slieve Croob is where the Lagan rises and I am convinced I was walking through it in places but my feet did not start to feel the cold and wet until I was in my own car and heading home. I would recommend it but go with a group who know where they are going and know what they are doing. My ambition for walking in the future is to be able to multi task - walk and talk at the same time.

Feeling Simply Divine

After my last blog entry one of my more intellectual friends contacted me (and I use that word - intellectual, advisedly). She was disappointed that I was not discussing The Divine Comedy (the epic poem and wondered "Who t'hell are Divine Comedy the group?


Divine Comedy the poem was written by Dante in the early part of the 14th century. It is a culmination of the medieval world/church view. My vague memory of it from my studies is that it comes in three parts. Inferno, Purgatory and paradise. A bit heavy going for this time of the year in my estimation.


I would much rather refer my friend to the works of Neill Hannon who is regarded as 'Divine Comedy'


Enough said about all that, considering that the rain has been pouring down relentlessly and unrepentant; and considering that yesterday was the most depressing day of the year, I must admit to feeling rather chirpy. Yes I can honestly say I am feeling rather divine!