As the car spluttered to a standstill on a remote road near Cushendun, I knew that this perfectly planned Valentine’s day trip was going to end prematurely. With a sense of denial, we nonchalantly poured 2 litres of water into the thirsty, steaming radiator.
Tentatively we made it to Ballycastle, found a comfortable wall and settled down to eat our picnic. We sat with our backs to the over-heating Rover, munched on our sandwiches and tried to forget about the dark rain-clouds over head. The sudden and unforgiveable appearance of two foraging beach rats forced a retreat and we finished our sandwiches too quickly.
Although increasingly difficult, we managed to retain our sunny dispositions and I was desperate to reclaim the day in the name of romance, but the car had the last word and refused to move beyond Portrush.
Abandoned, lonely and surplus to requirements the Rover was left to stew in is own lack of vital juices and we embarked on the next available train home.
Better luck next year!
I’m staring out a window
looking for something else
there’s nothing here that i care much about
there’s people and heat and coffee
but they’ll not be here forever
I’m staring out the window
fustrated beyond my wits
being drained of every will to smile
others seem to care more than me
but its not going to last forever, is it?
I’m staring out the window
people seem to be wearing a lot of black these days
they’re all walking on the circuit
probably wishing they were in here
with the heat and the coffee and the people
Christmas is special because God’s Word – the Word which was present at the beginning of time (Gen1:1) – became an embryo of flesh and blood within the womb of a teenaged virgin. In the New Testament we read of this account in John 1:14. The original Greek text - Kai. o` lo,goj sa.rx evge,neto kai. evskh,nwsen evn h`mi/n - can be literally translated and the Word became-flesh and did pitch a tent among us.
Eugene Peterson, however, translates evskh,nwsen as moved into the neighbourhood.
The Word became an embryo, then a fetus and then a baby. When we think of the baby Jesus in the manger we need to understand what just happened. God himself chose to physically involve himself with his people, and paid us a very personal visit.
The baby became a boy and eventually a man. For over 30 years he lived, breathed, ate, drank, laughed and cried with humanity (we can read his life story in any of the gospels). But humanity rejected him and crucified him.
We cannot look at the manger and not see the shadow of the cross. The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay became the crucified Lord – dying to pay a ransom for the world’s rebellion against Him. He died so we can go free!
God cares so deeply for us, that he chose to get involved in our world and our lives. Let’s not push Him to the side this Christmas.
Fern baby!
Today was an average-ish day in my world. It started with some spots of rain so I had to ’run’ to my car. I drove to college following the same route I do most mornings - taking extra care not to exceed 60MPH to prevent the car’s boot from opening on the motorway (the catch is broken) - and I found a parking space approximately 3 minutes walk from college. Other than scoffing my first Christmas dinner of the season and handing in an essay (on time) the day passed by without major incident. But that was before I logged onto my hotmail account and read the MSN news headline “The women men secretly adore poll had a surprise winner!” I was intrigued. Clicking on the link I soondiscovered that I was not alone after-all. Men’s magazine ‘Nuts’ named Fern Briton the 4th most secretly adored woman on TV!
So for the record… Fern is staying on my Laminate List!
This is no tea-time teaser, its for real! She’s one of the best known women on tele but alas, Carol Vorderman has packed up her whiteboard markers for the last time. As the time ticks away on the big countdown clock Carol spells out for her fans that she’s moving on to pastures new (we just hope this was a well calculated move). We’ll miss her witty charm, good looks, ever changing hair-styles and long legs. Teenaged boys all over the country will have no reason to rush home from school. She’s had a good few years from the top and almost none from the bottom so when all is said and done it all added up to a successful career. But what do we do now with our afternoons? Well I think thats one conundrum we have to work out for ourselves.
Goodbye Carol – missing you already!
Could Ireland have stumbled accross the new internet No.1? The song “Irish O’Bama” by Hardy Drew and the Nancy Boys is a good-humoured irish pub song. It originated from a speech when Barack Obama said he was looking forward to having a pint in Monegall, where his ancestors are from. Listen to the song here and buy it here!
O’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama
You don’t believe me, I hear you say
But Barack’s as Irish, as was JFK
His granddaddy’s daddy came from Moneygall
A small Irish village, well known to you allToor a loo, toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a lama
There’s no one as Irish As Barack O’BamaHe’s as Irish as bacon and cabbage and stew
He’s Hawaiian he’s Kenyan American too
He’s in the white house, He took his chance
Now let’s see Barack do RiverdanceToor a loo, toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a lama
There’s no one as Irish As Barack O’BamaFrom Kerry and cork to old Donegal
Let’s hear it for Barack from old moneygall
From the lakes if Killarney to old Connemara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’BamaO’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama
From the old blarney stone to the great hill of Tara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama2008 the white house is green, their cheering in Mayo and in Skibereen.
The Irish in Kenya, and in Yokahama,
Are cheering for President Barack O’BamaO’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’BamaThe Hockey Moms gone, and so is McCain
They are cheering in Texas and in Borrisokane,In Moneygall town, the greatest of drama, for our Famous president Barack o Bama
Toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a loo, toor a lama
There’s no one as Irish As Barack O’BamaThe great Stephen Neill, a great man of God,
He proved that Barack was from the Auld Sod
They came by bus and they came by car, to celebrate Barack in Ollie Hayes’s BarO’Leary, O’Reilly, O’Hare and O’Hara
There’s no one as Irish as Barack O’Bama
Am I the only one who thinks that Barack Obama has been watching too much children’s TV? Remember that lovable builder, Bob? Well it seems that the president-elect has plagarised his catchphrase – “Yes we can”. President Obama (Can he fix it?); President Obama (Yes He Can!)
Andrew Neill and the “This Week” team where in New York for their Thursday night broadcast. If the whole world is buzzing after the election of Barack Obama then the United States must be electrifying! From an open-air roof-top studio Andrew Neill, Michael Portillo and Diane Abbott pontificated and conjectured about how Obama’s victory would be played out accross the world and the UK.
At one point Andrew Neill turned to Michael Portillo and said that Obama had an “in-tray from Hell” waiting for him in the Oval Office. I think he’s right and Obama knows it too well.
This is your victory.
And I know you didn’t do this just to win an election. And I know you didn’t do it for me.
You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime — two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century.
Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us.
There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after the children fall asleep and wonder how they’ll make the mortgage or pay their doctors’ bills or save enough for their child’s college education.
There’s new energy to harness, new jobs to be created, new schools to build, and threats to meet, alliances to repair.
The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even in one term. But, America, I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there.
I promise you, we as a people will get there.
When I turned the corner into Dub Utca I almost choked on my Kebab as I found myself trapped in the middle of what appeared to be the annual southern migration stampede of the Hungarian bicycle. I am not exaggerating when I say that literally thousands upon thousands of bicycles were being peddled in a cavalier fashion through the streets of Budapest. What could this be? A terrorist attack? A Hungarian petrol crisis? A world record attempt for the largest bicycle tour group?
As I was pondering this thought – and running for safety to the nearest doorway - I was handed a leaflet. I mopped the mayo from my chin and read:
“Raise your two-wheeled metal lump of loveliness in the air! Hug your bike like it’s the spouse you haven’t seen for 13 years after serving a jail sentence for slashing car tires! Kiss the handlebars that bring you joy every day as you roll around the city! Why? Because its time for Budapest’s Critical Mass once again.”
Yes, in a cry of protest against pollution and congestion in the city, every cyclist worth their salt grabs hold of their beloved two-wheeled vehicle and bikes across the city from Hero’s square to Buda park. Then, in what seems like a war cry, each person holds their bike above their heads and shout “Whaaaaaaaa” (or something very similar to that).
The Critical Mass event of Budapest happens twice a year and has raised an awareness of environmental issues to the Hungarian government with more than 30km of cycle paths being constructed each year as a result of this campaign. Are you impressed? I finished my kebab and “walked” to my hostel.
In Prague I had the most enjoyable afternoon. We signed up for a walking tour of the city (to see the sights) and there were about a dozen of us altogehter. But the buildings, cobbled courtyards and bridges of Prague (as beautiful and breath-taking as they are) paled to insignificance compared to the eclectic mix of God’s creation which assembled for the tour; New-yorkers, Belgians, English, Canadians, Irish and Slovaks.
Among this motley international pack of tourists was a ’special’ couple. As their names suggest, Larry and Merle are the all American couple in their twilight years. Merle was wisely dressed in a full-length winter coat, knitted berry and sporting a pair of (largely impractical) golden shoes. Larry, who is obviously too cool for school, was wearing a leather jacket and peaked cap (he could’ve been mistaken as a soviet guard). We struck up a conversation which covered everything from dietary requirements to cruise ship entertainment! And if you haven’t guessed already you’ve probably got it now… Yes, Larry and Merle are American cabaret stars! If you are one of the few who have never heard of them you can check out their website here.
Nina, the native tour guide, took our group off the beaten track to a lesser known strudel-bar. In this steamy cafe - whilst sipping on hot wine - we chatted excitedly to one another about life and experiences, travels and work, family and ambitions. Our farewell was eminent and our shared experience short-lived but it reminded me that the most wonderful, breath-taking and beautiful of all the sights in Prague was not the Charles Bridge or the Tyn Church but that of God’s creation. Seeing the sights is only part of the experience - people are the rest!
Traveling is an art form. I imagine that every lone voyager is filled with a certain amount of trepidation at the prospects of ‘failing’. Failure may comprise of the following events. 1) Being ripped off; 2) missing your plane/train/bus; 3) Being unable to start and hold an interesting conversation which goes further than “where you from”, “where you going to” and “how long you traveling for”.
Thankfully – assesing myself on the above criteria – I have been reasonably successful.
I boarded the Berlin-Prague train yesterday afternoon at 14:45. I selected a compartment which only had one tame-looking young man in it. I stumbled in noisily and very aware that I was ruining his ‘potentially’ peaceful journey. I started a conversation (where you from/going to etc). Turns out he is a vietnamese studying economics in Berlin. He travels once a month to meet his girlfiend for a weekend in Prague. She lives in Prague. Shortly into the journey he opened his sachel and produced to tins of German bier and offered one to me. I kindly and politely accepted his offer. I, in return, delved into my rucksack and produced 2 orange kit-kats. He accepted like a true student. We chatted (and laughed) non-stop for over 2 hours covering everything from German politics and theology to the health risks of smoking.
As the trained pulled into Dresden, my new friend (Zuong), informed me that it was a very impressive small city/large town and it was well worth a visit. So I decided to delay my trip to Prague and spend 22 hours in Dresden. It was nice.
22hours later and I’m back on the train to Prague and got talking to a Black American lawyor who works in Dresden and owns an apartment in Stutgart! He seems to have his finger in many pies. Runs a small internet buisness out of Bangladesh with 19 employees and owns the domain names to over one hundred ‘dot com’ companies! – Rich Man. I prayed that he’d give me some of his ‘well earned cash’. Not so!
