Tag Archives: snow

Christmas, like.

Today, my dad came home with a bag of mince pies. One of my top five favourite things about Christmas is the good ol’ mince pie. They’re fantastic. Mince pies conjure up all sorts of festive memories. Subconsciously, dear mince pie, I judge and analyse you with each bite I take. I’m sorry. You’re all lovely, but some are a lot more lovely than others. The best mince pie has a suitably crumbly pastry, a good mince:pastry ratio and is served warm, with cream. Gimme a glass of mulled wine or some alcoholified coffee with it and that’ll be the cherry on the top of the cake. Not literally, of course. I hate those mince pies that, instead of a pastry cover, have icing. Person who came up with that? Yeah, you. What in God’s name were you thinking? What kind of sick person thinks that putting sugary white icing directly on top of mincemeat is a good plan? Because it’s not. So don’t do it.

Mince pies aren’t the only sign of Christmas around the gaff at the moment. There are pine needles all over the carpet, decorations that haven’t found their ideal home yet, stacks of empty decoration boxes in the utility room and not one, but two, Christmas trees. I told my parents that they’ve made it now. Two Christmas trees. That’s definitely a milestone in a person’s life. Can’t wait until the day I get to add that to my CV or Twitter bio or something. I mean, it doesn’t count unless you own the house because, for now, I’m just living off my parents so they get to take all the credit even if I decorated The Second Tree.

To be fair though, The Second Tree is only a baby one. It’s about my height, and I brought my mother to town yesterday to buy another set of lights for it and some new decorations. Like, I have to have a theme for a tree. I’m not into having kids’ decorations on my Christmas tree, and many a war has been had over the placement of my younger brother’s not-so-amazing art and craft on the tree. Fortunately he’s over that stage now, and instead the battle is to allow only red and gold decorations on the main tree. Boring, traditional, classy – whatever you want to call it – I like it. And not just because the vast majority of our decorations fall within that general colour scheme. So anyway, I went to Penney’s because who wants to spend their (or their parents’) money on baubles when it could be spent on whiskey.. Penney’s is class though. I picked out these fantastic brightly-coloured, almost to the point of gaudy, decorations. Which is really quite riveting when you think about it.

This year was the first in a while that I’ve fully been able to enjoy the whole build-up to Christmas thing. Every December from 1st to 6th year has been taken up with cramming for Christmas exams so, while I still managed to make time to decorate the tree every year, this year is the first that I can properly enjoy my handiwork and sit by the tree, wasting time on the Internet, listening to a record or six, reading, drinking tea, eating mince pies, whatever. It’s nice. It’s peaceful. The calm before the storm of the mad nights out that are hopefully yet to come.

So yeah, Christmas, you’re one of the better times of the year. Until it starts snowing and there’s slush and ice and no-one can go anywhere and we’re all left stranded in town at 4am because taxis are scared to come out. But yeah, apart from then, you’re class.

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What’s this?!

At this moment in time you may be thinking that your eyes are deceiving you. This couldn’t possibly be a new blog post from Niamh, could it? No, not really. It’s just going to say the same stuff that all the others say, but technically it could be considered new content. There’s something for you too all debate amongst yourselves.

I don’t really have the time to write here anymore, so you might find yourself wondering (or at least I find myself wondering if you’re wondering) why I’ve suddenly popped up here with a few words of my infamous (not) wisdom. Well, I’m sick. Sort of. I think. Hopefully not. Anymore.

On Thursday night there I started on the ol’ Biology papers, beginning the long trek through the light and dark phases of photosynthesis. Paul McLoone had this competition on his show where you could win two tickets to The National at Other Voices in Dingle. I got nervous and excited at the same time and hijacked all the mobile phones in the house to enter said competition. Around the same time I began to feel a bit crappy. McLoone announced the winner, and it wasn’t me. Or any of my family members who wouldn’t know a National song if it jumped up and hit them.

I abandoned the charming Biology papers and installed myself in front of Ros na Rún, bowl of Cheerios in hand. I think I’ve watched about three and a half episodes of Ros na Rún, but sometimes you get an idea into your head. Anyway, I thought I was developing ‘sensitivity’: a unique, hard-to-describe affliction that I sometimes develop for a day or two. I guess it’s like the flu, but then again, I’ve never had the flu, so I don’t really know for sure. It only lasts a day or two though, usually cured by two paracetamol and a night’s sleep.

But, on this particular occasion, WE HAD NO PARACETAMOL IN THE HOUSE. I’d like to pause here for a second and say the following: WHAT. THE. FUCK. What kind of house doesn’t have paracetamol? There was a few drops of Paralink in a bottle, so I downed that. It really didn’t taste like the claimed ‘strawberry’ flavour but I didn’t care. Ros na Rún was getting interesting.

I went to bed early and took up where I’d left of with The Secret Life of Bees, that ol’ Leaving Cert novel that I should have read over the summer but didn’t. Next morning I woke up none the better and stayed in bed for the day, awaiting a delivery of Panadol and Lucozade, which seemed to help things alright it has to be said. Within an hour of the sweet, sweet Panadol dropping into my stomach all seemed well again. I ate a bit f pasta, took a shower and went to a friend’s house to eat pizza and caramel slices while watching Tubs on the Toy Show.

Getting out of bed on Saturday morning was a bit of a trek, but I managed it, and off to town I went in my ridiculously stupid outfit of a little vintage cropped blazer, bandage skirt and pumps. It was bloody freezing. Did coffee, went home, went to bed. Felt mank, slept, listened to the radio, worried about my health, etc.

Sunday passed in much the same fashion, just involving Sunday papers and plenty of The Panel on RTE Player. Single Handed and a cup of tea perked me up a bit though. There’s just something about that Garda uniform..

Now it’s Monday, and I’m at home. The snow is melting and it’s all disgusting so I don’t want to go out and take photos because it’s frankly quite depressing. I’ve also given up thinking about all the study and homework time I lost over the past four days, and have instead turned my attention towards making it to Dublin on Friday for The National. Which I will. Fuck the Leaving Cert, fuck school, just once I get to listen to that beautiful music LIVE. Excitement is building. And I’d also love if Dublin was all snowy, but I hate slush, okay?

So off you go to cross your fingers, look for 11:11 on the clock, throw copper coins over your shoulder, pray, meditate, whatever you’re into, so that I can make it there.

I’ll bring you back a National badge, like. Now there’s an offer you can’t refuse..

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Snow!

As much as I hate the stuff, due to my now being stranded as the roads are apparently too dangerous, it is quite pretty. However, I couldn’t even take and decent photos because a teacher has my memory card, so I had to make do with a stoopid phone. You get the idea.

My snowman!

Our lovely snow-covered lane. Grr...

Some lovely snowy twigs.

Me fadder's car..

Bitta the garden..

Wow. How lovely.

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Snow Day!

The view from my window...sort of.

More like long snow weekend. Today didn’t feel like Friday, probably because yesterday felt like Monday. And yesterday felt like Monday because it was the first day back at school. Bloody wrecked, so I am.

But then, lo and behold, during Maths just before lunch, it’s announced we have Monday off due to adverse weather conditions. And then I come home, and on Facebook it’s all ‘Ahhh I love you Batt O’Keeffe’ and ‘Wooo! No skul til thurs!!!’ and such. I tried to avert my eyes from the ‘txtspk’ as the kids these days call it, and focus on the positives.

The main positive is, of course, what has turned out to be ‘a two-day week and a five-day weekend’. Zack Morris said that many, many years ago on Saved by the Bell, and it’s an ideal I never forget. Now it’s here. I vote we name it Zack Morris Week or something to that effect.

I know I live a little to the left, but still pretty cool..

Our driveway covered in, I dunno, two inches or so of ice, which means the cars have been left at the bottom of the driveway. No longer can we just pop out to the car with minimum exposure to the cold, but instead you get your daily exercise getting to the car in the morning. Win win situation! Apart from the danger of walking down, the state of the driveway, the wrecked grass, the fact that it’s annoying, blah blah…

I’m still trying to get it into my head that tomorrow’s Saturday. The lovely Maths Enrichment classes in UCC are starting again tomorrow, joy of joys. I sat through weeks and weeks of impossibly hard Maths last year, and I return again for more educational Saturday mornings. Hannah, you are just too cool dragging us back there. Looking on the bright side, as I seem to have done a lot in this ridiculously boring post, is that I get to check out UCC’s newest building, the Western Gateway Building. Accentuate the positive…

I’ve started watching Friends again on YouTube, just in the correct order. Currently working my way through Season 2, and my, what a show. You’d kind of forget about it. I think Chandler’s my favourite, but I like Joey too, and Ross. And all of them.It’s just one of those questions in life that’ll never have a definitive answer. More like a theory when you think about it…

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Birthdays and Christmas Eves..

Yes, my house does look just like this right now..

Well, one of each actually. ‘Twas the ol’ birthday yesterday, hence the lack of blogging. That’s my excuse anyway. I just went to town with the mother and did some Christmas shopping. Town was really quite stressful. I can honestly say I hate HMV. It was packed. Absolutely packed. You couldn’t browse for music and films and such, but just queue up. I hate that shop for personal reasons, so I searched everywhere for red Skullcandy earphones, but to no avail, so I ended up buying them there, along with being asked to buy a Michael Bublé CD by a man for some young boy who was there with him but wasn’t his. I didn’t. It was weird.

I then purchased various other Christmas presents, and met my friends for coffee. Eventually at 3.20pm I decided to check if the Motor Tax office was open so I could go get all licensed up, so I asked in Coffee Roasters for a phonebook but they didn’t have one. The guy there was so nice and he went to look it up on the computer for me but I was like nah I’ll just call 11811. ‘Sall good! But then when I did get through I was told the Tax Office was closing at 4, so realistically a bus would not get me out there on time if I had to get my photo taken beforehand. So I rang the rents, but they were no use. But when I was standing outside on the phone my aunt drove past and gave me €7 out the window for coffee. How bad.

I got lots and lots of nice Happy Birthday texts, aswell as some FB Wall action, and a few face-to-face greetings too. We were sitting in the window of Coffee Roasters talking away when someone stopped outside the window, waved at me, then mouthed ‘Happy Birthday’ through the window. It was Toby, home for Christmas, and it made me smile. He was with his mother so I couldn’t go out/him come in to have a chat, but the fact that he remembered when he saw me was nice. I know birthdays come up on FB and all, but I still wouldn’t have remembered to say Happy Birthday to him if I had seen him around on Monday. I think.

My friends got me lovely presents. Aisling made a really pretty box in my favourite purple colour, with Happy Birthday written on the front in beads and buttons and ribbons and the like. Inside was a navy and green scarf from Topshop, a purple purse from Topshop, Jane Austen’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’, the DVD ‘Once’, and  Adrian Crowley’s album ‘Long Distance Swimmer’ from my favourite shop in the whole world, Plugd Records. And on the back of the album cover, is two little messages from Jim and Albert of Plugd. I love it so, so, so much. Thank you, my amazing friends 🙂

And there’s my Chriscringle present and another little birthday present to come today, if we ever manage to get into town with this fecking ice/snow and lack of buses. Ugh.. Aisling and I are supposed to be going buskin an’all..

My mum’ll expect me to ‘help’ around the house today. The plans are to go to Tralee to my mum’s family tomorrow morning but who know’s what will happen if the roads are dodge. We also have to find a babysitter for the three dogs, four hens and one fish, and one of the doggies is a bit sick so I don’t really want to leave him. He has a very bad stomach, poor pet. 😦

Birthdays and Christmas make you realise who your real friends are, and who the nicest, most thoughtful people are if circumstances mean that being friends just isn’t possible…

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