There's something moving in the grass...

So there we were, the Sunday before last, Mammy, Daddy and Cian all happiness and light, out for a walk, when suddenly....
Dun, dun, dun...
There is a rustle of grass, something is spotted moving, crawling, no, no, wait, its slithering, Christ, it's a snake, a big green one! Run, run, God run, save yourselves. Jump in the sea, no, wait, don't; snakes can swim! Up a tree. Quick, climb a tree. No, feck, snakes can climb trees too. Christ, bloody talented snakes. To the car, to the car, flee. What?! snakes can drive?! Jesus! No they can't! Can they?
Go! Go! Go! people, this is no time for taking photographs, spectacular and worthy of National Geographic as they are. Get in the goddamned car now before that goddamned multi-talented snake sets up a roadblock and extorts chocolate from us! Now!!
And away we sped, alive but humbled by the slithering majesty of the mighty snake, or that "feckin scary thing" as Cian called it.

Sunday at the beach

Today dawned a nice sunny day, so on the spur of the moment (or as spur of the moment as it gets with Sanae - she has a checklist and nobody goes anywhere until it has been checked. Twice); we decided to pile into the car and head for Toyaura, a sort of concrete Ballyheigue about an hour drive from Muroran. Smashing day, it has to be said. One of those good ones the memory of which helps you get through the long winter's here. We are having a rather good summer of it this year - at last. A little too good on occasion if truth be told. Last week on Tuesday and Wednesday, the mercury nudged 30 and with the accompanying humidity, it felt warmer here than when I was in Hong Kong. And of course there is my ongoing problem with my chest hair. Apparently waxing isn't going to work, so they recommended laser treatment. But after one look at the Des Kelly carpet on my chest, the clinic said they'd need a weapons grade laser and they're not sure if they can get the security clearance to use it on a foreigner. So I sweat on. And on. The weather forecast for this week is showing lots more sunny days in the 27 - 29 degree range. I am considering napalming it but Sanae isn't happy at the prospect - she reckons it could leave scorch marks on the wooden floor.

Tiernan's tailor

Tiernan, many thanks for the comment. I did visit your tailor in Hong Kong, but as you can see from the photo below, they didn't have anything in my size.

Fragrant Harbour

I spent last week in Hong Kong, ostensibly attending a conference on things educational. Such events tend to be very hit and miss - for every half decent presentation you stumble upon, you have to sit through hours of monotony as speaker after speaker tries to reinvent the EFL wheel. "How to make students more motivated to learn English" in all its variations is always a firm favourite. Exhortations to "increase their intrinsic motivation", or "enhance autonomous learning" are met with a barely stifled yawn, always accompanied by reams of statistics in a desperate attempt to give some faux academic respectability to some common sense observations. Asian academics are particularly guilty of this. So, we are told that students in the Engineering department of Shenzhen aren't all that interested in studying English, and, drum roll please, the presenter has the combined results from t-correlation, anova variance, and scatter regression analysis to prove it. By which time I am heading for the exit.

Thankfully, outside the exit was Hong Kong, which likes to term itself "Asia's world city". Not much you can argue with there, particularly if you are coming from Muroran, "Asia's New Jersey". It's also a bloody hot city, noisy too and one that is, in so many ways, immeasurably improved by nightfall. After dark is the time to do your sightseeing in Hong Kong - dazzled by the lights, you are blinded to the rather tattered city all too apparent during the day.

I have been

in Hong Kong for the past week where, as you all well know, they don't have the internet. Or even electricity. It's all rickshaws and laundries down there. But more of that in a while.

First to the big game today, the final between two teams, one expected to be there, one a bit of a surprise. Cork were always going to be in the final but I reckon most people would have put Tipp opposite them rather than Waterford. Whoever wins though, I reckon Kilkenny won't lose too much sleep over it.

To the other final. Lot of history here. 50 years since Louth took to the field in Croke Park in a Leinster final. Will that weigh them down or will they do a Clare on it and relish the opportunity to lay some old ghosts to rest. And don't I just sound like the newspapers.

And there's the soccer. I like Spain. I have a Spanish friend. I like Spanish food. The first foreign country I ever went to was Spain (Majorca, 1976). And we didn't fight them at the Battle of the Boyne. So Viva La Espana! Prediction 2 - 0 and free tapas for everyone at Eva and Micheal's house.

"Keep away from the square. Our keeper's gay" - "Good Jaysus!"

Have been

a little amiss of a late (a little?!) in keeping up with the footballing fest down Africa way. Bloody vuvuzelas. Can't concentrate with all that racket. But about them Dutch boys. Not just clogs, windmills and Heineken. Deservedly put a dour Brazil side out in a cynical match - 'gurrier football' on an international stage. And as for Uraquay's (boo! hiss!) even more cynical defeat of Ghana, well, it's not exactly looking like the beautiful game anymore, is it.

But perhaps that we will have our remedy tonight. German Blitzkreigers meet the team led by 'El Loco', the Crazy One. In terms of managerial style, the Germans are already ahead, their understated charcoal svelte suits and somewhat fey cardigans easily outclassing the roly-poly bag lady look favoured by Maradona. But the Argentinian players, it must be admitted, do have the better hair styles, Messi's moptop excepted. The Germans, having renounced the mullet, look like students who take turns sharing a shower once a week.

Prediction: If Argentina are a goal down with 20 minutes to go, a visibly coked-up Maradona to substitute himself into the game.

"Dieter, they're making fun of my hair. Schwein!"

In unrelated news. Big thunderstorm tonight. Just to add a little more water to the already moisture sodden air. Any more of this and we can expect fish to swim by our window.

The First of July

And we are slowly baking in the heat over here. Lord, the humidity. A kind of general stupor has settled upon us, and even 'lethargic' is too active a word to describe our day to day existence.

So empathize please, with me and my students, as I try to teach and they try to learn a foreign language in these conditions.

And there is still a month to go until the summer holidays begin.

The author with his cursed chest hair. Damn you, hairy Gaynor DNA!! Where are you when my hairline needs you?!