Hello world!

It's been a while. Turns out that MSN is allergic to Ireland, or at least any part of it that I am in. I have tried repeatedly for many months without success. For some reason Germany suits it though. How peculiar.

By the way, I'm in Germany. This is because I have a tendancy to do unpleasant things to myself. Not that Germany is unpleasant, it's actually lovely, I just can't speak the language (even after 7 years learning it) and I am failing to integrate. But to explain a little bit better, my course includes 8 months work placement and I, for reasons beyond my comprehension, decided not to go to Dublin like everyone else but to live and work in a smallish town in a country where they don't believe in vegetarianism. So now I cycle to work everyday and watch the Simpsons in German and communicate through mime.

Next time, once I've had the chance to make it up, I shall include a short summary of what I've done in the past however many months. It will include world peace, and writing letters with funny dots over them. Anticipate it. Bis dann, tschüss!

Niamh Mad

And now I am old. How pleasant. Beloved Family and I shall celebrate in a nice, quiet way this evening. I have already gone out to dinner with the Ladies (as you are henceforth known, Shelly and T. It's time you were collectively given a title all of your own), which was very nice indeed. I shall doubtless do something at some stage with the Limerick gang. Birthdays are not quite as significant anymore. Favourite present: scratchcards. Excitingly full of promise. Gambling is an addiction - don't start.

I think (and this has come from several hours contemplation, so it must be good) that everyone ought to get a pair of those glasses that the optician puts the lenses into when testing your eyes. That way, you could adjust the strength of your glasses as neccessary - for me, stronger when looking at anything further away than my own hand, and weaker for anything actually touching my nose. It would also stop my optician's frequent suggestions that I get bifocals again. I had them. I fell down the stairs, repeatedly. They gave me headaches. I lost them, and was not sorry. End of discussion. But back to the DIY glasses - I reckon they're cool, in a retro/coke bottle/binoculars/robot sort of way, and could easily be customised with the aid of a tin of paint and a brush. Maybe some feathers, if you're feeling a bit wild. Yes, it seems to me that this is the way forward for optometry.

One day left till Talk Like a Pirate Day. Much excitement. Arrr!

Spike Milligan is my new favourite author. Hurrah for inanity! Toodle-pip,

Niamh Mad

Hmm...I suppose I ought to write everything I did, but I don't feel like it. In short, I was mainly in New South Wales - Sydney, Southern Highlands, Blue Mountains, beaches - but I did travel to Canberra and up to Northern Territory to see Ayer's Rock and Alice Springs (probably the highlight of my trip). I'll tell you about my flight home instead. I arrived last week after a long and boring trip. The first leg, Sydney to Kuala Lumpur, was grand - I was going home, and flying Malaysian Airlines, which is delightfully comfortable and spacious and you get your own individual TV set allowing you to choose what you'd like to watch. Then we reached KL. Having spent 6 hours there on the way out, I'd pretty much exhausted the possiblities the airport had to offer. Furthermore, there is this incredibly annoying tone before their bloody intercom thing which goes off every 30 seconds and fails to become background noise because it's so loud and jarring. In ten minutes I passed through the intitial stages of extreme irritation - flinching, twitching, glaring and muttering - and progressed to insulting it loudly everytime it went off (...your mother was a doorbell and your father one of those buzzing steady hand games things...). It probably didn't help that the effects of all the lovely drugs that I'd taken to combat the atrocious cold/flu that I'd picked up the day before I left were wearing off and I was feeling wretched. However, it did ensure that the scarily aggressive salespeople left me well alone - bizarrely, they didn't want to approach the wild eyed, coughing, wheezing maniac talking to herself.

Three fun-filled hours later, I had the pleasure of boarding my 11 hour flight to Amsterdam. KLM, of course, have the distinction of employing a sadist to design their Economy class seating. I was placed next to a Frenchman who clearly mistook my smile of greeting as a deadly insult. This was unfortunate, as I was practically sitting on his lap. Everytime I attempted to wedge my legs into a slightly more comfortable (I use the word with no little irony) position I would hit him, whereupon he would show a remarkable ability to eminate waves of pure hatred and contempt while studiously ignoring me. Then again, I was wearing my blanket over my head (to try and counteract the sickly green glow from the TV screen almost vertically above), so possibly he was a very nice man merely trying to protect his young daughter next to him from a lunatic. The only thing that makes up for everything else about KLM is the food, which is wonderful. I wrote down a lot at the time both about it and also the general attractiveness of flight attendants, but it's all a bit silly, probably due to little sleep and much Panadol.

Anyway, I disembarked at 5.30am, very glad to be in Amsterdam and therefore Europe. I dusted off my Euro and went duty free shopping. Schipol airport also had the advantage of not being Heathrow, which was still forbidding the onboard possession of almost everything. However, I still managed to have a bit of a run-in with security - apparently the comb I had with me had a metal core which showed up during the baggage screen. They searched my bag, turned it inside out and put it through again, while I prayed fervently that my French enemy had not planted any drugs or weapons on me as revenge for my existence. A comb confiscation and a very cold "thank you for your co-operation" later and all was well, though. Having also being selected for a Random Explosive Device Test on my way back from Sydney to Alice Springs, it does make me wonder what it is about me that causes such suspicion. I can't really think what I could have achieved with a comb, aside from a straight parting.

I was rather excited boarding my Aer Lingus flight, hearing all the Irish accents and knowing that in an hour and a half I'd be back on native shores. Having flown a great deal in the good old days of air travel (they used to give you these cool sticker book on Aer Lingus flights when we were travelling to Saudi - my favourite was the hairdressing salon - and complimentary toiletry bags on KLM. At least 6 flights a year leads to a large collection of nail files, which are great for playing doctors with), I find the way you have to pay for everything now disgusting, and I lodged my protest by sleeping through almost the entire journey. I woke up in time for the descent, and puzzled the Italian next to me by grinning inanely at the cloud cover and dull, wet scenery below. I love Ireland - what other country has a field full of cows next to the airport? Delightful. I passed through customs and passport control and collected my baggage with surprising ease, and headed out to be enthusiastically greeted by the Beloved Family. Drove home and went to bed for about a week.

So, yes, I'm very glad to be home. 3 months was a little too long for me, I think. There are, though, a few things I'm missing already. Have a list, to illustrate. Actually, have two; if I only present one side, I'll depress myself.
Ten Things I Miss About Australia/Sydney:
1. My cousin Fi.
2. The constant good weather.
3. The friendly people.
4. The Rocks.
5. Pumpkin.
6. Rove Live. Closer to Johnathan Ross than anything else, but unique and special. And funny.
7. Being universally adored simply for being Irish..
8. Twisties.
9. Frozen Cokes at the cinema.
10. Ferries.
Ten Things I Do Not Miss About Australia/Sydney:
1. Sunburn.
2. All the food except the fruit and pumpkin and Twisties.
3. Noisy birds/reptiles/insects at night.
4. Fear of death.
5. The parched look of all grassy areas.
6. The Australian accent. Cute at first, it reaches a stage where you bang your head off the wall whenever you hear a "G'day!".
7. The Joke. To clarify: "So, where do you come from?" "I'm from Tipperary, which is towards the south of Ireland." "Oh! *air of delight and originality* It's a long way to Tipperary!" "*fixed smile* It is from here! *murderous glare*"
8. The sports fanaticism. I don't care. I am willing to show interest in one sport. It will not be cricket.
9. WASHING UP.
10. Pushy shop assistants that make me buy stuff with money I don't have.
 And, of course, I now have unlimited access to my lovely Space. Regular blogs filled with tedious triva shall resume shortly. Now, though, I head for bed. Toodle-pip!

Niamh Mad

*gawks*

*strokes shiny new format*

*pokes screen*

Wow. And the best bit? The Evil Australian Computer likes it too. I am back, my friends, though it may take a few blogs to get up to date. Ironically, I leave Aus in a week. It is typical, but I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Mainly because I'm slightly terrified of horses I tried horse-riding, and it was ok until Jack (that would be the horse. He was very old and placid, and I was still nervous) started walking. Bizarrely, I continued until they were trying to teach me to jump. The fact that I was attempting to do it with my eyes closed convinced people that I was possibly not a natural talent. *joy* Look, I'm now able to tell all my pointless anecdotes again. Oh how  I missed you, my beloved Space.

Not-exactly-toodle-pip,

Niamh Mad 

 

After an enjoyable day spent pleading with, bribing, threatening, banging and calling down rains of frogs upon the Evil Australian Computer and the pitiful UL system that becomes overloaded when more than two people log on, I have finally managed to access my results. I am delighted, particularly with my German which, after the exam itself, I was convinced I had failed (which would suck mightily, as I love and am usually good at it). Yay for curve grading, is all I can say. I have a very satisfactory QCA of 3.16, which will (in a slightly annoying but also extremely useful manner) return to 0 next semester (now that it is confirmed that I will be attending - woot!! Double exclaimation marks are necessary here to show my joy). I am a very happy bunny. Toodle-pip! Niamh Mad

Hello all. Apologies for my long absence, but the Evil Computer doesn't like MSN, and blogging has been more trouble than it's worth. However, today I have decided to persevere, against all odds, and just keep aborting the stupid non-responsive scripts.

 

Anyway, I have been in Australia forjust over three weeks now, which is hard to believe. It seems to be both a lot longer, and nowhere near that amount at all. I have recovered from the bouts of homesickness that plagued me, yet still I occassionally feel a longing to be home doing nothing, happily getting under Mother's feet. I have also recovered from my jetlag, and so have done much in the time between this and the previous blog.

 

The following day I headed into the city, with my aunt for support and guidance. The aim of the day was to give me a general idea of the layout and position of everything (hehehe...little does she know, I get lost coming down stairs. I also bought a map, which looks very pretty), so we didn't stop anywhere in particular, which led to a lot of walking. We went by bus, so my first view of Sydney harbour unfolded before me, blue and sparkling, as we crossed the Harbour Bridge, with the Opera House slightly to the right of centre of the scene.  It's spectacular, particularly, I imagine, on the day that we went in (blue skies, warm sunshine but with a cool breeze too. In short, a beautiful day. According to my aunt, typical winter weather. I got sunburnt), and I was charmed.

 

As it was a Sunday, there weren't too many people about, which was fortunate, I think, as I was already fairly awed by the size and general metropolitan-ness (yes, it's a word. Now it is, anyway) of it all. I trotted along, jumping at the monorail overhead, gawking at the height of the skyscrapers, delighting at the areas of significance, and generally branding myself as both a country girl and a tourist. We started off at the Queen Victoria building (built 1898, I think, and threatened at one stage to be demolished. I had my aunt fearing for my sanity by ranting extensively about what a crime that would have been) and moved into Myers, Centrepoint Tower and David Jones. We went up through Hyde Park, down Pitt Street and then George Street (amn't I doing well?) to Circular Quay. We then headed down to the Opera House (where there was a fantastic view of the entire harbour, starting from the Rocks area, round by Taronga Zoo, the heads and entry and the Botanical Gardens). We then walked back up towards the Rocks, which is the original part of the city where settlers first landed, stopping for a bit of lunch.

 

To continue, we moved to the Rocks area, which saw Niamh in raptures over the beautiful 19th and 20th century sandstone buildings. At this stage, by the way, I was completely in love with Sydney. We stopped at the Tourist Information Centre, where I gained a small tree's worth of leaflets and brochures on various places to see both in Sydney and nearby. We then made our way down to the waterfront once more, I admired the view again and regretted that I had forgotten my camera, and we headed to catch the 3.15 bus.

 

Emboldened by my success, soon after I attempted a solo journey, which went amazingly well. I wet up Centrepoint Tower, where I was able to see a 360 degree view of Sydney below me, and then took a tour of the Opera House, out of which I had to be dragged, whimpering (it was so beautiful, and they were building the sets for Lakme, and had a giant screen set up for the Wizard of Oz...). My second trip (for which I had made an itinerary, as there is much to see in the city) concentrated on the wonderful Rocks area, and in subsequent trips I inspected the Hyde Park Barracks Museum (very well done, the first two levels were museumy, while the top floor was a recreation of the conditions. It was interesting to see that murderers and rapists were in with people imprisoned for stealing ribbon or plums or "'curled hair"), St Mary's Cathedral (beautiful, and I felt a great sense of satisfaction overhearing a tour guide explaining that the Celtic patterns in a certain place were in a reminder of the large number of Irish Catholics who were the original attenders), St James' Church, the Conservatorium of Music and the Botanical Gardens, which are fascinating and extensive (I came across a group of children - some sort of school group, I presume, as they were wearing a uniform - who were playing varieties of recorders, very nicely. I sat down nearby to listen, and was rewarded afterward by hearing their conductor attempting to explain why they couldn't busk. I was amused. I also nearly stepped on a number of free-roaming birds, and saw bats asleep in trees, and fed Cockatoos). It's great, having a ready source of places of interest, and my list of What To Do In Sydney is not even half crossed off yet.

 

I also was taken up to the Blue Mountains one Sunday by my aunt's brother, John, who is lovely and very well informed, and also taught Indonesian at one stage. The mountains seem like a plateau from afar, but once you get into them they're full of steep valleys and plunging waterfalls. The views are magnificent, and it's so peaceful it's hard to believe that they're just a resonably short drive from a city as large as Sydney. It was in this pleasant state of oneness with nature that I rounded a leafy corner to find myself smothered in nerve-shatteringly noisy, jarringly colourful, photo-snapping, shreiking, laughing tourists, complete with loudspeaker announcements and littering (I appreciate that I am one, but in my indignation I don't care). I was not pleased at this disturbing of my tranquility, and glared at all and sundry until they passed on, fortunately in the other direction to us. We then strolled onwards into more green quiet, and I stowed my camera at the very bottom of my bag and returned to happiness.

 

And that's more or less it. Until next time, ny friends, toodle-pip!

 

Niamh Mad

Ladies and gentemen, boys and girls, this is my final blog in Ireland, Europe, the Northern Hemisphere...*enter violin*...ah, melodrama, I couldn't live without you! Anyway, I'm off tomorrow on my epic journey (come to think of it, I must pack). It's rather exciting, really, with a small measure of terror thrown in. Possibly the other way round. I'm looking forward to it a lot, but I really, really, really don't want to go. Maybe I'll just hide in my suitcase.

I'm not quite certain what the story is with the Net in my uncle's house in Sydney, so this may be my last blog for a while. Soldier on, and comfort yourselves by remembering I shall have many exciting tales to relate. I bid you toodle-pip.

Niamh Mad.

You're 40% Irish

You're probably less Irish than you think you are... But you're still more Irish than most.

1. Remove all excess items from desks, shelves and other surfaces. Retain them for future sorting. The floor is a useful place to keep them, until you get round to it.
   
2. Remove all excess items from drawers, wardrobes, etc. Store them for later sorting somewhere handy, like, for example, the floor.
3. Clear the floor.

I am having some difficulty with Step 3.

I got my hair cut today. It is now shorter. Apparently, this is a common result of getting one's hair cut.

The weather here is absolutely glorious, lots of sunshiney blue-skied cloud-free goodness. It is rather remarkable. As it is only beginning to be summery, I have not yet grown to hate it, in my usual fashion (and the fact that in a few days I am fleeing the northern hemisphere may mean I shall not hate it at all this year, which will be a nice change). Indeed, I have even gone so far as to expose my ankles to direct sunlight, though not, of course, without first applying SPF30. Irish hereditary has much to answer for.

Notable events at the moment are few and far between (not necessarily a bad thing, I hasten to add, but I fear that re-reading favourite novels and tidying one's room does not make for riveting narrative), though I did venture into town to meet Shelly recently. We had lunch, and caught up, and ambled, and ate ice-cream, and she bought a dress and I a pair of shoes that are red and shiny and beautiful and too high for me and go with nothing I own and I don't care. It was very pleasant. She is off to the Gaelteacht tomorrow for three weeks, to practise speaking Irish like a native (please note the slight irony contained within this sentance). Her delight is exceeded by only, oh, probably everything. She has been advised to hire a bike when she gets there, as everthing is about five miles away, and they had two pubs where she is staying but one closed down. I find it rather amusing, but she does not. She'll enjoy herself when she gets there though. Almost definately.

Anyway, I depart on Tuesday, and to be honest I am feeling slightly apprehesive. It's a 28 hour journey, with two layovers (Amsterdam and Kuala Lumpur). I've flown a good bit before, of course, what with the travelling to and from Saudi in my (younger) youth, but not for a while and never on my own. Never mind, I'm sure it'll be an Experience, one of those ones that make you Grow As A Person. It will probably be Good For Me. Yes.

I must leave you now, and attempt to make my room habitable. Why is it that whenever I start to tidy my room it always gets messier? One of life's great mysteries, I suppose. Or not. Toodle-pip!

Niamh Mad.

Hmm...reading over that last blog, I think I may have been a bit unsettled. I shall leave it up, all the same, as a reminder to myself. She's fine, by the way, a bit shaken, but otherwise ok.

So, anyway, here I am, back home once more. Attempted to squeeze everything into the car on Friday morning (I have so much stuff! When and where did I get it? My room here is overflowing). Neighbour Aoife came over to say goodbye, and ended up vacuuming my room (it was amusing to see here jump, every once in a while, when the sound changed) - turns out she's like my father, and can't bear to see someone else do it badly (and I do that sort of thing badly - I go sort of floppy and ineffectual and helpless. I imagine I must infuriate people when I get like that, but it does mean that often they do my work for me *evil grin*). Said a few sad farewells to friends and my apartment (Roomie Aoife actually gave me a hug voluntarily, which is huge, as neither she nor I are particularly tactile), and handed over the keys. Alas, it is no longer my home away from home. I now must wait till next September for 116 to be mine.

It wasn't as hard leaving, in the end, as I had imagined. To be honest, between the general stress of the exams and visits to the A&E and exploding vacuum cleaners and sodden goodbyes (met up with Linda and Erica one last time, and as I was walking home, Limerick outdid itself, rainwise - I suppose the city's way of taking leave) and numerous final nights out and various other things, I was exhausted and looking forward to getting home and getting a proper nights sleep. And food cooked for me. And being driven places. And playing my piano again. Home is good.

And now, a nice thespian paragraph to finish up. Went to see the Da Vinci Code the other night, before the anxiety attack incident. I think the critics are being a trifle unfair, though it's not as good as the book. Went to see X-Men: The Last Stand. Bryan Singer was missed. Went to see my brother's play, Nowhere But the Stars, last night, which was very good indeed. The music was excellent (composed and played by two of my friends, Dekkie on guitar and Keith on flute and drums. Actually, the play itself was written by another friend, Hannah. Drama tends to be a close-knit group), really atmospheric, and added a whole new dimension to the play. I think that's enough for one day. Toodle-pip!

Niamh Mad

Good morning, all. It is currently 03.41, and I am just back from Casualty. One of my friends had an anxiety attack. Not that we knew it at the time; the doctor on call refused to be called. So we had to get a taxi to the hospital. Our first taxi was stolen by someone else, leading to confusion on the part of the taxi company (who couldn't understand why we were upset, as we'd already been dropped off) and hysterical laughter on ours. I also had the opportunity to sit next to a genuine zombie for an hour or so (only one person allowed in with the patient, so I stayed in the waiting room. I was the only person in there for ages and ages. They had about fifty other seats to choose from, you know. There's a certain ettiquete in these situations - you aways leave at least one seat between yourself and total strangers unless absolutely necessary). She was grey, and only moved to wheeze. Her husband had a wonderful hacking cough, and moved over to sit beside me when she was called in. I need sterilisation. I also need sleep, but I was somewhat twitchy upon my return (it was a slightly surreal experience) and I felt blogging would calm me down. I'm going to bed now. I'm very cold. Goodnight.

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I am so tired. Hello, by the way. I am no longer a first year. The exams are over (tolerable to terrible), and now I am just loitering, apparently. Fear not, however, I have plenty to keep me occupied. For example, tomorrow I intend to journey into the city, get my photos developed, take pictures in a booth with friends like they do in films, go to the park and fly imaginary kites while singing "Let's Go Fly a Kite" from Mary Poppins. I am looking forward to it.

Now I shall look backwards now, dear readers, and inform you of recent events. Firstly, Munster won the Heineken Cup! It is most exciting. Peter Stringer is my new hero, after his fabulous try. I find myself beginning to love rugby - it's somewhat unavoidable while residing in Limerick. If you did happen to see the match, and if you saw footage of a street covered in red clad supporters, well, that was O'Connell Street, Limerick. The Munster team trains here. We're fond of them.

Secondly, we had our final Deb U get-together/barbeque/Eurovision watching thing. It rained, of course, but not excessively, and I have photographic evidence of Shane removing 3 layers of clothes and still appearing somewhat decent, and Linda trying to climb a tree, and the rest of the populace standing around looking disreputable, and Oisín was clean shaven (a rare occurance), and we insulted almost every single act on the show, so a good time was had by all. We went lodging afterwards, and even that was tolerable. Alas, what shall I do without my lunatics during the summer? Why are holidays so long?

Thirdly, Neighbour Aoife's vacuum cleaner sort of exploded yesterday. She ran in screaming, "fire, fire!", ran back out (it was rather a Doppler effect sort of thing, and she was gone before we had quite got a grasp on the whole situation), ran around the hall a bit, and went to cower by her bed. I found her there when I entered, and I unplugged the smoking machine and opened a window. Roomie Aoife then came in, bearing a fire blanket. The event had tripped the trip switch for the circuit in the bedroom of her apartment, but the door to the box was broken and we couldn't get into it (Donal, who's fabulous, fixed it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: feminism is overrated). This morning, just as I was heading into my Sociology exam, the power cut for the whole of Castletroy. I sent her a text to say that she'd managed to short out the whole area. She failed to realise that I was joking (it was quite early, I suppose), and she went to reception in a panic. The manager laughed at her, and sent her back home, where she bend her nail back (it bled) and required a plaster and some soothing words. She has been rather unfortunate of late.

That's about it. I am rather tired, to tie up the top and bottom of this piece rather nicely. I think I shall sleep for a few days. Toodle-pip!

Niamh Mad

It has come to my attention that there as been an appalling oversight; a travesty, if you will. In a past blog I mentioned that Declan was a star for getting Aoife a second ticket after she lost her first. However, I failed to acknowledge that it was, in fact, Shane to had obtained the original ticket at very short notice. I apolise profusely for my ignorance on the matter, and wish to categorically state, to the internet at large, that Shane, too, is a star. Well done, Shane. Your mother must be so proud.

Shane, I know I said my next blog would be the Apology, but I don't feel like it now, so you'll have to wait. Anyway, you ought to be studying, rather wasting time here *wags finger in a hypocritical manner*

First exam, Contract Law, in 2 hours. Oh dear. It occurs to me that studying may have been a good idea. Hmm...Paradine v Jane, Hill v Sugrue, Taylor v Cauldwell, tra-la... Worst timetable ever. My law modules three days in a row, then German and Sociology on the same day. Grr...useless class reps. They're supposed to make sure that doesn't happen.

In happier news, my visa thingymabob came through, so off I head to a Land Down Under to practice (is that the correct one? I can never remember) sandwich making and koala stealing. It's all very exciting. Sad as it is to admit, I'm not sure I could tolerate an entire summer with the Beloved Family. I still love them as much as ever, but now home feels slightly claustrophobic (possibly due to it being full of five people and a dog). I guess this is supposed to happen, that you gradually grow away from your family, or you'd live with your parents forever, but the desire for increased freedom makes me feel...wistful...all the same. Having said that, I will undoubtedly be incredibly homesick in Australia, and wish I'd never gone. *sigh* Life is funny.

Anyway, off I go to do some more last minute case-chanting. Mistake and misrepresentation and duress, oh my! Toodle-pip!

Niamh Mad