Diary of Liam and Oscar etcetera etcetera blog #3

It’s too bloody hot. And Liam got burned day before yesterday. Despite factor 60 his shoulders still went mad red and VERY SORE. So he wouldn’t go to the pool. So we had to sit in and watch Jeremy Kyle. Which is hilairious.

Evelyn says it’s depressing. Not the hot thing – the Jeremy Kyle thing ‘Spose if you are her age and are looking at all these sad mostly losers it might be. But we think it’s hilarious. Mainly because most of these people have these mad problems about sex. Or rather their supposed-to-be partners having sex with others-who-are-not-them. Sex is hilarious. Even more hilarious than farts and silly names for parts of your body that nobody likes talking about. Although the proper names are even more hilarious than the silly ones.  Shewhomustbeobeyed says we are not to list the names here – either proper or silly; but you all know them. Shewhoetc. is weird – we’re saying all these names and she is googling them looking for the etymology of the word so she can understand it and worse – make us understand it. Etymology – what’s the etymology of that? This is our life at the moment. Jeremy Kyle and mad words. Edumacation.

Another good programme is Cupcake Wars. Yep. These mad Yanks have contests to be the official cupcake maker for some event or other. These eejits are passionate about cupcakes. Cup-bloody-cakes says Evelyn and people starving on the planet. Yep. One of those moods – all because we didn’t move our breakfast bowls. Anyway she’ll have a kip in the sun while we watch something else (there really is only the pool and the tv – no other kids, no SHOP!!). Glee. Desperate Housewives. Liam likes the History Channel – well some programmes, mostly war stuff.

She’s making us WALK to the beach later. Oscar brought it up on his phone and it is 2.7km away – like, that’s down and back from Swords village from the house in Rathbeale ALL IN THE ONE GO. Then we’ll have to walk back again. We wish she’d hire a car but she says she’d be too nervous on the roads. EVELYN!! NERVOUS!! We think last year’s holiday in Wales was better because there was more stuff to do and it wasn’t so hot. Still, it’s better than school!!

See yiz soon

PS MAMMYAIS I LOVE YOU!!! OSCIE XXX

Diary of Liam (12 'n a 1/3) and Oscar (12 'n a 1/4) from Campo Sol in Torrevieja, Spain blog #2

You may notice a small change in the style of writing as this blog is actually being WRITTEN BY LIAM AND OSCAR. So there will probably be a lot less ''Jeez'' and possibly a few more immature jokes. The blog hasn't been updated since Monday so here's a quick recap.

 

Pool, pool, pool, walk to the shops a.k.a murder, SUNBURN ON LIAM'S SHOULDERS AHH IT HURTS! Evelyn's just told us that she wont stand for misspelling, o plz, weee wudent du dat ma nd anti-kinz.   

We moved into the apartment we're using for the rest of the holiday yesterday and it's much better because its got floaty noodle things for the pool which is very deep. Apparently most of you (aka those over the age of 8) will stop reading this if I don't mention some sad books so here's a list. Gravedigger's Daughter, Charlotte Grey, Birdsong, and The Little Matchgirl by Hans Christen Andersen.

 I don't know what to talk about now......zzzzz oh yeah!

... other than that massive dinosaur we saw in the park and how he played Texas Hold 'Em with us. And also the brown bear that we wrestled to death. That was cool. I'm sure Evelyn will blog for us later. Don't believe her though, IT'S ALL LIES. LIES I TELL YOU!  

 We love you Evelyn you're ever so kind and we love how you tell the truth all the time xmwah mwah mwah!

Shewhomustbeobeyed says we are merely manipulative. Dunno - we aren't particularly good with our hands

PS MAM EVELYN SAYS I HAVE YOUR LEGS! COOL!

Diary of Liam (12 'n a 1/3) and Oscar (12 'n a 1/4) from Campo Sol in Torrevieja, Spain blog#1

We're back! Almost a year older and twice as brainy ( Evelyn says cheeky - but this is our blog, so....)

We decided as we're almost teenagers that a sun holiday should really be the thing this year. Not. We had no say in it. Shewhomustbeobeyed just tells us what the story is and that's that. She usually does an ok job on arrangements etc so we kinda trust her.

Anyway we left a VERY GREY Dublin this morning and arrived into a VERY GREY Alicante. Evelyn was not amused. And it even rained a little on the journey from the airport to the apartment complex. But it was really really warm so at least that sort of cheered her up. Actually how the hell can she be cheered up when she spent the whole plane ride reading a book called 'The Gravedigger's Daughter'? We asked her what it was about ( barring the obvious daughter of the gravedigger ) and she told us it was too depressing. After page 180 everyone belonging to the gravedigger's daughter was gone/dead and she was all alone in the world. PULLEESE! This woman is supposed to be on her holidays and she is reading about death, murder, violence, hatred insanity and the cruelty of human beings towards each other. And not even a drink in her hand to make it all easier to read about. She decided to abandon that book as not suitable to her frame of mind and instead tonight she is curled up reading ...wait for it... 'The Virgin Suicides'. We'd worry about her if we weren't already a little concerned for our own welbeing. We may have to pretend we are not with her at the pool.

Speaking of pools - the one in the complex is gorgeous. It's small but quite deep so we had great fun. We're in one apartment for tonight and tomorrow night and will be moving to our proper place on Wednesday SOMEONE MESSED UP THE ARRANGEMENTS. And it wasn't Liam. Or Oscar. But at least we're not in the hostel in downtown Alicante which is where the person who is supposed to be protecting us was trying to incarcerate us first. Jeez. We never would have slept.  The nice woman across the lane from us here ( with two lovely little dogs - a bichon and a maltese) was horrified that we even contemplated it. The apartment is nice - not as nice as our mobile last year but it is clean so the Mammy with us is reasonably satisfied.

Only drawback is it is about a fifteen minute walk across some waste ground to get to a supermarket and then we had to carry LOADS of shopping back with herself. Our arms were longer when we came home than they were when we went out and Oscar reckons he has blisters. Liam moaned for Ireland and Spain and HE HAD THE EASIEST JOB!! Evelyn wouldn't let us stay on our own in the apartment while she shopped - we won't be caught out on that one again!!

We expect our blogposts to have a certain adult tone this year. We are a year older you know and not as amused by childish things - like bodily functions (tee hee hee). We're sophisticated consumers now of course (like we weren't already). Liam bought a hat and Oscar a pair of sunglasses in Dublin airport. One must keep up appearances - even if it's only Evelyn we are with.

That poor bewildered woman hasn't a clue. Before dinner she landed down to the pool for a swim; she was in her togs but we had to point out to her that she still had her bra on under them. AND THEN she whipped the bloody thing off in FULL VIEW of the one other person that was there..and it was a maggoty old sweaty one.

JEEEEEEEEEEEZ! It's going to be a long week.

Let's get rid of people........

I’m quite sure that that’s what the banks, globalised industry and The Markets have decided. Or maybe it's just 'let’s get rid of the little people'. People who save money in jars. People who won’t use an automated coin counter because of the high commission rate. People who like to interact with other people. Me.

I saved over €300 in coins since Christmas – it is spending money for a week in the sun with son#2 and nephew supreme. A week away from Irish weather. We opened the stash and counted it, bagged it carefully and I set off to turn it into notes.

But.

My bank doesn’t ‘do’ cash. Not even as a lodgement. They have contracted all cash dealings to the Post Office. An Post can look after those plebs who sully their hands with coins and notes. Banks seem to operate for people who have so much money they don't need actual cash.   So I toddled off to my local Post Office where I was met by a machine with an automated menu from which one should choose a service. But changing coins into notes wasn’t on the list and it didn’t fit into any other category so I pressed Other Services. I got my ticket. I waited.

As I waited a cry of frustration came from an elderly gentleman standing in front of another machine that dispenses stamps for letters and parcels – it has an automated weighing service etc. An Post must be heading away from people too. Another customer - a dreadlocked nose-ringed young man - went and helped the older man to use the machine.

‘I pressed every button,’ the old man said, ‘every bloody button – and nothing happened. It kept sending me back to that bloody Main Menu. I've no stamps or money now.’ His voice quavered and one could see the bewilderment in his eyes. He is lost in a world of machines – machines that chew up his money and won't explain why.Nahnahnehnehneh. It must surely feel as if Big Brother has truly arrived . (Yes I know I’m exaggerating – bear with me, it was a frustrating day).

‘I only wanted a bloody stamp.’ The old man said as his dreadlocked noseringed saviour smiled and handed him his stamps and his change.

‘It’s not easy,’ said the younger man.

‘You said it son you said it.’

My number was called and I plopped my coins on the desk ( all correctly bagged I might add). The very-nice-young-man told me he couldn’t change them for me.

’But you handle cash for my bank!’ I said.

‘Ah well, in that case you have to lodge it,’ he said.

‘And probably pay a fee,’ I said. He shrugged. I sighed and rooted for my chequebook to get a credit slip. 

No cheque book.

 ‘Sorry’ I said, defeated by rules I didn’t know.

I put all my coins back into my bag and marched home again. I would take the coins on hols with me if I could but we’re flying Ryanair and they’d probably surcharge me.

In the greater scheme of things this is only a minor irritation. But then I had to contact our Internet/tv provider about an error in the bill and spent an hour and a half trying to navigate my way through an automated greeting menu in order to speak to a real live person.  Once I talked to the person all was well but sweet lamb of divine god I was totally frustrated at the end of it and when I got off the phone I had to rant about bloody companies squeezing every last penny out of you. Hence this post.

I'm convinced all these institutions are trying to force all us ordinary Joes and Joesephines to stay in our homes and only communicate with each other via the net. We'll be like bees in a hive, ants in their hills. If banks can make a simple procedure like lodging coin as complicated as possible then everyone will eventually be forced to sit in front of a computer screen to do basic tasks. Then, slowly slowly catchee monkey the little tentacles of The Markets will sucker their way into our lives, targeting us for marketing and managing the herd, keeping us in our boxes. Deffo Big Brother.

  

But - be warned all you people (are they people? Maybe they're aliens) behind desks in soaring skyscrapers with profit margins as your driving force. Greed kills. One day someone, somewhere will snap - like Michael Douglas in Falling Down - and run amok. Maybe a whole bunch of us frustrated little people will break out of the coraal into which you are shoving us. And woe betide you when we do.  

He's almost there......

Last summer I blogged about son#1 and his seventeeth summer. About how it would be the summer he will remember for the rest of his life. A summer of being care free and loving it, of girls and football, of music and friends. Realistically his last childhood summer.

This summer will be his first adult summer. He left school last week and is facing into his Leaving Cert, starting the day after tomorrow. He cannot wait be done with it – to get to college, to work and earn his own money; to spread his wings and soar. When Seamai (son#1) was seven years old he wrote a lovely little essay called 'If I were a Butterfly…' in which he wrote about flying as high and as far as he could, about not staying in one dull place all the time, flying to Brazil was mentioned. It was about shining.  I remember him bringing the essay home, thrilled because his beloved teacher told him it was wonderful. It still is wonderful. I'm proud of him, so proud. Jemser and I instilled that into him. Self-belief, confidence, that desire to soar, to shine, to own the world. Or perhaps even way back then he just wanted to get away from us!! No matter. Whatever his motive when he wrote his excellent little esssay I hope he achieves his wish and fulfils his enormous potential.

I recognised the adult in Seamai some years back and that fine adult has now emerged fully formed - he still has blips (Christ, don't we all!). I wish that, at eighteen, I had been half as mature as he is now. I can safely let him off. Once we (parents and child) get through these particular exams our relationship is totally different. We are three adults. And I like the other adults in that relationship. I love them. I always will.

I'll be decked for blogging about him. I don't care. I'll tell the world about him - I've been telling the world about him since I told them all at tea break when I was five minutes pregnant. My son, my son. 

Shine, Seamai -shine.