Archive for June, 2008

Fixing a hole

Dad is having another operation in the morning. (what’s left of ) his stomach isn’t emptying because of a narrowing at the bottom of the stomach. He’s been in hospital for about 2 weeks losing weight. We’re back to drips and tubes and scans and tests. This is hopefully a complication of all his surgery last year but it could also be (as the surgeon put it today) “return of the disease”. So it goes.

Life is never straightforward. I’m not sure we’ve been any more “unlucky” than any other family. I know plenty who’ve had much worse. Not that that makes it any easier.

I’ve moved back home for a bit to stay with wee Liz and sleep with the phone beside me and try and take all the phone calls. I’m glad I’m here.

I have written much more over the past few weeks, I’m just not sure I’m ready to put it up yet.

[PS I love the blog titles, even if no one else does… I have this fantasy that somebody somewhere is googling them all. Sigh…]

Together we’re heavy

13 in a volvo?

Lame effort I say.

Though, to be fair i didn’t try to drive the volvo with 22 in it.

Puncture Repair

Too much time of late thinking about death and tragedy – though more thinking than actually experiencing (by GOD’s mercy). I have become an even less pleasant and cheery person than usual to be around (who’d have thought it…). Now to be fair I’ve tended to think of death in the light of eternity – that maybe death isn’t quite so bad after all – each day one step closer to glory and all that. This is not to trivialise death in any way, and yes it only applies to the deluded and easily deceived who believe in all this Christianity malarkey, but if we’re fighting a bit of a losing battle down here then at least we’ve won the war so one in the eye for the Devil on our way out the door.

I was thinking about all the important things people cling to when they’re sick, all the happy memories of past experiences – hence the canoe obsession – and how important it is to get back there again and thinking about how much you might miss the experiences when they’re gone. And then I got thinking the other way round that as good as enjoying the wonders of the Irish countryside is then the thought shouldn’t be “I’m gonna miss all this when I go” but “I’m gonna really enjoy this when I get there”. If the river Bann on a sunny day is something special then what are we to expect of the redeemed creation in our freshly renewed and redeemed bodies? If I’m gonna be bitter-sweet then let that be about what lies ahead rather than what lies behind.

And perhaps one thing to be thankful is that if Dad wasn’t in hospital waiting for some plumbing repairs then I’d be in a canoe in the middle of Lough Neagh, repeating last years trip in the cold and pissing rain. Small mercies and all that.

Weapon of choice

Things to make me miss NZ


Crazy drunk Kiwis

Something in my eye

and this cannot be done unless each one regards as his own the weakness of another, putting up with it in all calmness until he whose welfare he has at heart is freed from it.


When I get pissed off with people I love, I find in retrospect (after the sarcastic comment or cynical put down) that maybe I wasn’t the best at seeing it from their point of view. A sense of perspective of what it is like to stand in someone else’s shoes is sorely missed amongst humanity, and to our shame the church. We are too busy with specks in the eyes of others to spot the planks in our own.

Madame George

Footy tournaments as alluded to previously provide me great ways of wasting time in other wise boring and tedious situations, eg work, visiting dad in hospital (just kidding really) or indeed life in general. A good international is hard to beat (the stunning drama of Turkey v Czech Rep provided just that), though I’ve tired somewhat of watching club football. Give me the six nations any day over the champions league.

Of course when it comes to playing then give me footy any time. It is the beautiful game. Even when I’m playing

What many see as detracting from the game is the relentless play acting and diving. The dramatics and theatrics played out in even the softest challenge is quite something to see. Some see this as taking away from the game. Though it is a form of entertainment in itself.

A bunch of overpaid posers, ponces and women they may be, but they have their moments.

Fat Freddy’s Drop

Footy tournaments are wonderful distraction therapy. Watching terrible games twice a day, just in case you miss a cracker (yes I missed Holland-Italy…).

Though in work this has the added advantage of giving me something to do while waiting for the “magic cream” to cook on the kiddies.

Your child, safe in my…oops I dropped him…


June 2008