A typical Irish Winter is frosty with lots of rain and gale force winds.  Major winds, especially here on the North West coast.  However last year was particularly severe with two big freeze ups.

When I was growing up here in Sligo I had a duffle coat that I wore all winter.  Usually bought in The Blackrock shop on O’ Connell Street it lasted for two years. I wore them from 10 years of age to 20.  They were invariably navy or dark grey .  They were warm and cosy and perfectly suited to the elements.

I bought one on sale 3 years ago in TK Max.  It was my birthday and I needed a coat.  It was the classic duffle.  Toggles, big pockets, comfy, slouchy, below the knee and warm!  Like a blanket and pink in colour.  Pale pink actually!  Not a winter colour hence on sale.

Winter is here right on target.  Lots of rain wind and cold but I put on my duffle coat and go.

Sometimes I pretend I’m on a Bob Dylan cover.

Hey whatever it takes!

The man’s name was Peter Brown and he was speaking from the Irish Institute of Financial Trading.  Here’s what he said in my paraphrased nutshell .

The ECB (European Central Bank) will have to buy Italy’s bonds and  the member countries of the EU will have to agree to increased oversight of their fiscal affairs by the ECB.

At least I think that’s what he said. Oh Oh! it’s gone all foggy again!

Still there’s a lot to be said for a succinct speaker. Fair play to Peter!  At least I understood him at the time and that felt good especially in these chaotic confusing times.

We have a big old board that we bought for Ultan a few years ago which has  barely been used. I brought Rian to Streedagh and tried to get him to surf on it but he was very frustrated as it didn’t have the handstraps.  However he wouldn’t let me try so I played with an old boogie board instead.

One fine day when nobody was around I hit for Streedagh with the big yellow board and hauled it into the water. I faced it into the waves and started to paddle.  As I bounced over the first wave and felt the surf spray into my face I hit nirvana, and this was only paddling.

There have been lots of fun days since. Housework was abandoned for August and lots of September. The water is warm even if the air isn’t and on windy days when I cannot lift the big yellow board on or off the car I just go with the beautiful blue boogie board Cesar bought me.

Someday I’ll stand up or even kneel but there’s no hurry. For now I’ll just have fun in the beautiful waves of Streedagh.

I got lots of flac from more informed family members about not giving Michael D my number 1 but I stuck up for you because I believed in you. When I heard about Martin Mc Guinness’ ambush I felt you would be able to clarify what really happened about the 5,000 cheque and everything would be ok. You didn’t. What was wrong with saying yes, you were a fundraiser for Fianna Fail. It’s not a crime.

The interior designer who apparently grilled you on the TV debate does seem to have been very articulate. (I did not see the debate but heard the Pat Kenny show the following morning). She might have pissed me off too but attacking her motivation was a losing strategy.

As I went to vote yesterday I was still confused and did not want to let go of my emotional attachment to you as my number 1 candidate. I especially resented Martin Mc Guinness manipulating the vote but ultimately he shouldn’t have been able to if you had handled his charge.

Then I thought what would happen if I was on Dragons Den and I couldn’t answer a question satisfactorily? You would kindly point it out and say

“I’m out”.

4   The fake tan which comes out of a bottle, is sprayed on or got on a sun bed

3   The just back from Portugal/Spain tan

2   The golfing all year round in Ireland tan

1   The farming/ bog tan               

Tan number 4 is very common among people who don’t travel abroad at least 4 times a year and do not farm or play golf but feel they cannot attend any function if they do not look like they are from California.

Tan number 3 is not as common as it used to be but can still be found lurking about in off peak travel season.

Tan number 3 is common in hotels  and leisure centres near Irish golf courses and while not common all over is quite common in those “relaxee vous” areas.

Tan number 1 (my personal favourite) can be spotted in rural areas  and is quite common and” par for the course”.

I have been under pressure lately in this warm weather to apply a fake tan seeing as I am wearing shorts more often.  Having spent 21 years in the multi coloured society that is America I am proud of my pink and white freckled skin.  It’s just a colour and while it’s not the most delicious it’s healthy and it’s mine.

Besides after 5 hours working at the bog last week its almost a tint of honey.  Almost!

Now let’s analyse this a little.  Priests have to be male, so approximately half of the population is excluded right off the bat.  Women need not apply.

Within the approximately 50% of the population that are eligible, only the ones who are interested in committing to celibacy (ahem!) need apply.  I’ll bet there are loads of those guys floating around.

Even in recessionary times, those job requirements are pretty tough.

Sounds like a wish list really.

The old people come in on pension day, the working people come in at 1.00 and 5.00 and assorted types in between.  Some strangers passing through drop in for a bite to eat as do local workers for a quick sandwich.

It is a cheerful place with a great buzz to it.  People chat about the weather and planting and growing etc.  There are lots of jokes about the lotto and long queues for tickets when the jackpot is high. 

There was none of that yesterday.

 When one of Mohill’s finest young men, Phil Mc Guinness, was accidentally killed on the football pitch in a freak accident at the weekend, the smiles were wiped of all the faces. 

There were no jokes, no chatting, just shocked comments from all.  Phil was from a well loved and respected family and was very popular, talented and hard working.

Mohill was a very sad little town yesterday but with a community spirit second to none.

Having  consumed an average sized dinner the sweet craving would hit in about an hour.  Ice cream, chocolate, biscuits, anything was devoured. It was open season and  I was crawling the walls.

I tried eating fresh fruit, tinned fruit, yogurt, all healthy substitutes but nothing worked.  Sometimes the sweet craving would be followed by the double whammy of a salt craving.  Then I would hit the crisps and pretzels.  Still the cravings were never filled and I usually went to bed stuffed and still craving “je ne sais quoi”

I do not possess weighing scales but the bags of clothes that didn’t fit were getting bigger and the ones that fitted were getting scarcer and I refused to buy any more clothes.

I’m not into fashion.  I have the same things for years and believe if I’m in good shape I don’t need a lot of fancy clothes and if I’m out of shape a load of fancy clothes doesn’t matter a shyte.

So I went to see Mary, the proprietor of “Tir na n’Og” the longest established health food shop here in Sligo. Tir na n’Og’s been around forever (ha, ha,).  Mary knows her stuff and I trust her.  I told her my dilemma  and how I was filled with self loathing.

She made a few sensible suggestions about diet but I said I wanted something to take at night be it a tea or whatever.  She suggested a pill called helix slim by a  reputable brand called A.Vogel.

I started taking the pills and I am a new woman. The cravings are gone and I haven’t had a piece of chocolate in10 days.  I am mistress of my now shrinking belly again.  The self loathing is gone.  I still eat normally but no pigging out.  I am in control and it feels great mentally.  There are no side effects as far as I can see.

And yes, my oldest, favourite, most faded  jeans are zipping up again.

Obviously we are not aspiring to “Caesar salad” in its purest raw egg anchovy style. Give me a break!   

Still, we are trying to make it look like a fairly acceptable Caesar salad complete with home baked croutons, freshly grated parmesan and a tasty bottled Caesar dressing all mixed together in a bowl.

Maggie (our wonderful food preparer) is not happy with that.  She had a lovely Caesar salad in Longford and they just served it all on a plate complete with other salad stuff like tomatoes and peppers.

Fidelma (my sister and our wonderful owner) wants no colour on the Caesar salad.  Dell knows her stuff!

The other day when two Germans ordered Caesar salads and Fidelma was on a day off,  Maggie put tomatoes on the Caesar salads just for a bit of colour.

As I brought them to the table I thought what the heck when in Mohill, do as Mohill does.

I refer you to the article in the Irish Independent which tells his story.  Having grown up poor in Austria and achieving financial success to the tune of 3.4 million euro net, Karl reached the  conclusion that consumerism is not where its at. ( Ten out of ten, Karl). He felt like a slave to luxury. 

He palns to move  into a small wooden hut in the mountains or a bedsit in Innsbruck where he reckons he will be much happier without the trappings of wealth.

The fact that he made his fortune in interior furnishings may have somthing to do with this.  No phonier or pretentious business can I think of.  Maybe if he had been doing something more satisfying though less lucrative for a living he may not feel so unhappy.

Nonetheless Karl, my hat is off to you.  You’ve got it sussed and will (hopefully) never  be unhappy again.