Stare Into Space


Posted on | June 6, 2007 | Comments Off on Holiday

I have returned from a small holiday on the west coast of this (sometimes) beautiful island of mine. Not literally mine of course. If it were, there would be far fewer people here and those that were here would mainly be pretty girls. I would only allow a small number of males and only those who were astonishingly ugly (far more so than me). They would perform those menial tasks that prove too strenuous for the pretty girls although this doesn’t mean that the girls will have an easy life. They too would work but would do so in hot pants and heels.

Anyway, I digress. I’ve been on holiday for the last week or so. Popped to Westport. Never been, oddly enough, but it’s a very nice place indeed. Some spectacular scenery along the coast there and some nicely impressive mountains. One of these mountains, Croagh Patrick, has some sort of religious significance and one day in July every year, thousands of religious nutters climb the thing as a pilgrimage. The more mentalist of these nutters perform the climb barefoot. There is a little chapel on the top and they have some sort of ceremony before hobbling back down and, no doubt, getting off their faces on pints of Guinness in the nearest pub. I didn’t climb the thing but I can report that it looks high and steep and rocky and that I believe anyone who climbs it barefoot to be in dire need of some more common sense. Crazy religious people.

So anyway, the holiday was as relaxing as any holiday with a two-year old can be, especially one that, although potty trained until recently, has decided to fall off the poo-wagon. Unpleasant underpants abounded. To make matters worse, my daughter has decided that she will sometimes hold the poo in until it becomes, ahem, pressing. At this point, it becomes a bit uncomfortable for her and she expresses that vocally. You haven’t been embarrassed and scared until you’ve tried to manhandle a toddler from a playground she doesn’t wish to leave as she shouts, “my bum is sore, my bum is sore” at the top of her voice.


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Gerry Hayes

Gerry Hayes

I mostly sit around all day and drink tea. Occasionally, I write stuff and send it to strangers so they can humiliate me and deride my efforts. Other than the self-harm to dull the shame of failure, it's not a bad life. Like I say, there's tea.

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