Happiness is.......

Happiness is sitting with my family,
Cuddled together on the sand,
Gathered with friends around a campfire,
Singing songs, as the waves gently break.

Happiness is sitting at a dinner table,
Surrounded by young friends.
Everyone is laughing and joking
The night is ahead of us.

Happiness is lying in bed
With my love snuggling in behind me.
He whispers 'see how you fit perfectly'
And kisses your neck.

Happiness is sitting in a newly built tree-house,
My young son is beside me
And we're reading a book together
He smiles and says "This is the life!"

Ventry Beach at Sunset

Women in the workforce

At the end of March a member of our Government, Leo Varadkar stated:

"I know one or two women....who probably don't make very much money from working but they do it to keep their position on the career ladder, if you like"

"But I think if somebody is in that position whereby they're actually losing money, it's costing them money to work and as a result they can't pay their mortgage, well then that is something that needs to be taken into account in any kind of insolvency regime."*

I immediately thought of several women, close to me, whom this would affect.  Two distinct types.

Firstly, three women I know who have PHDs.  It had taken years for them to attain this level of education.  One is involved in the agriculture sector, another in the health and the third in research on genes.  These women are involved in research and development that will, quite possibly, lead to job creation.  They also teach and tutor in third level institutions.  The money they earn only barely covers their childcare costs as they move from contract work to contract work.

One of these women went for a contract job interview with a charitable foundation and was told that she shouldn't get pregnant during the time of the contract as it would not be renewed.  I know this is illegal, it is happening nonetheless.

Another group of women affected are friends who are entrepreneurs.  Some of these businesses were set up during the recession and some are now established businesses.  Natasha, owns a French grind school.  She won Network Irish Business Woman of the Year last year.  She visits young women in schools and talks to them about entrepreneurship, amongst other things.

Carolyn, has her own hairdressing business. She specialises in weddings and last year when I asked her to help out with a charity event in my school that involved styling 18 hairstyles, she did it for free.  This year she set up another business setting up 'retro sweets stalls' for weddings.

These woman all keep ploughing on.  They have support and help from their loving husbands and partners.  However when they need to avail of childcare, the cost is prohibitive.

In my own case, as a Special Needs Assistant, my wages covered my car and childcare from 2005 to 2009.  That was it.  I thought about giving up my job and going into child-minding but I knew I would not need childcare after 2009.  I love my job and I feel I have something to contribute to it.  I also went to college for 5 years at night.

Here's a thought:  Let people pay for the childcare from their gross pay instead of their net pay.  I'm aware that the Government has no money left in the coffers but these woman are helping to generate jobs through their work.  They also create jobs in the childcare industry.  Is is better to allow these women to continue to do their work or pay them on the dole?

If a woman wishes to remain in the home I fully support her.  If a woman has studied for 10 years and wishes to have children as well as work, I support her too.  Most studies show that children benefit best in a home where parents are contented with their roles in life.

*This quote is from The Irish Times on 27th March.  I believe he's had his wrists slapped since.

Frank

Liz knew old Frank from seeing him in town at the weekends.  He was a friendly man who sometimes seemed a bit befuddled but was always chatty and helpful.

Therefore she got a shock when she turned the corner in the car park and saw Frank walking, precariously near the top of the escalator.  He was gingerly stepping up the wrong escalator as it was descending down.  A small crowd of about five people were standing at the top waiting.  Frank seems to be mustering all his strength to keep going.  He was tired and was only just about keeping ahead of the descending steps.  If he went backwards he would fall but he was unable to quickly reach the top.

With a couple of steps to go Liz couldn't watch anymore.  "Somebody help him!"  She pushed her way past the onlookers and as she did a man she recognised, Tom, stepped forward too.  Standing either side of the top they leaned in, offering a hand each.  Frank knew he was taking a risk removing his hands from the moving rails but he was worn out.  Liz and Tom got a good hold of Frank's weather-beaten hands and gently helped him over the top of the escalator in onto safe ground.


The three of them stood and looked at one another.  Frank tried to explain how he had gotten into the predicament in the first place, at the top of this voice.  He was looking around desperately at the crowd.  They ignored him and went on their way on the now unobstructed stairway.  Liz wanted to say to them to stop and give him a hearing and a bit of his dignity back.  But instead she and Tom stood and listened even though what he was saying made little sense.

E.T. phones home

My E post for the A to Z Challenge

Everyone was talking about E.T. the movie in 1982.  It was the film of the year.  My family were invited over to the neighbours house to watch it on their new VCR.  Which was as exciting as seeing the movie.  We all piled into the neighbours house.  Four kids and four adults to watch E.T. on a twenty inch t.v.  In case anyone reading this hasn't seen the film.... (no spoilers) we were all bawling our eyes out by the end of the movie.  Steven Spielberg knows how to tell a story.  The nub of it was that communication and connection is what makes the world tick.

Ten years later.........

I was sent to work in a 'foreign' town by a bank.  Every Wednesday night I would wait by the phone box to ring my parents at an appointed time.  By this time, I was having a whale of a time with my friends, sharing rented accommodation and out several nights a week.  But when I heard my parents and my brothers voices, I would feel a pang of loneliness.  There is nothing that drags you home like hearing the voices from home.

Twenty years later..........

I use facetime to chat with my parents.  Not often enough.  But as a certain ad says, 'it's good to talk.'

Our technology is now better than E.T.'s

Take that Spielberg.

Dublin

You have to scratch beneath the surface to find the hidden treasures of Dublin.

My mother has been in the Tallaght Choral Society for thirty five years.  It has 110 amateur members.  They perform a couple of concerts every year.

Last year they performed a Mozart mass in Westland Row Church in Tara Street. It's hard to give justice to the choir singing in the most beautiful of surroundings.  My friend asked me to bring her wheelchair-bound mother.  At first I baulked because of all the logistics in getting her into the church.  But as usual, people couldn't be helpful enough and she got a seat near to the top of the church.  The effect the concert had on her was amazing.  I later learned that she grew up near the church and used to sneak into it when she was a child.  She adored the music and sat with her eyes closed nodding to it for most of the night.

Later that year they performed a Baroque concert in Clarenden Street Church. Again this church is very plain on the outside but had intricate details inside, as was the building practice of the time.  It was on a sweltering June evening and the church was full.  I had never been in the church before but it's stunning inside.  At the end of the first half they sang,'Zadok the Priest,' by Handel (known from the famous football ad.)  It, quite simply, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand-up.

Another treat was in January.  Every year Joseph.M.W.Turner's watercolours exhibition takes place in the National Gallery.  The exhibition is only held in January due to the low light at that time of year.  Turner's evolution as a painter is apparent and the fine detailing of his watercolours merit a very close viewing.  Also my birthday is in January, therefore I feel, egotistically,  that it is my prerogative to visit this every year.  If you haven't seen it, please do, but you'll have to wait another nine months.

There are so many other hidden gems in Dublin worth visiting.  For example, the IFI, The National Concert Hall, and the National Gallery, where the staff are always helpful and friendly.  The free concerts in Farmleigh House in the Phoenix Park. I love that I can travel from Meath and be parked and in the Olympia Theatre within an hour.

The hop-on hop-off buses touring Dublin are also a brilliant way to spend a day.  I once was involved in taking a school tour with 35 schoolchildren around Dublin.  We stopped at Christchurch Cathedral, Kilmainham Gaol and Collins Barracks.  The commentary by the 'Dub' bus drivers was hilarious and much more entertaining than bus tours I've done in other cities.

I'm a Dub but I've lived half my life in Meath.  Meath has given me a family, a job and a home.  But, Dublin will always be special for me. 

Cathedral

When I was seventeen I was sent to Strasbourg on a student exchange.  The family I went to stay with had a daughter of seventeen and a son of eighteen.  They were the coolest, most chic people I ever met, Clare and Eric.  I never knew what adventure lay ahead with them: partying by a lake for the night, sneaking into German health spas, (by climbing over fences) growing all manner of unusual plants in their bedrooms.

On one of the final nights in Strasbourg they woke me up at five in the morning.  Told me to dress warmly and follow them as they picked up a couple of friends along the way. At that time of the night in France all the boulangeries were baking and the smell wafting down the streets was divine.

Finally we got to the square in the middle of the city.  The huge cathedral was in front of us.  Then Clare and Eric informed me that we were going to climb up the side of the cathedral.  It was the 1980's and  I was wearing heels.

There was scaffolding on the side of the building.  We climbed over small fencing and started to climb.  I never objected at any point. It just felt like the most exhilarating adventure.  Even when we spotted Gendarmerie and had to freeze for a moment.

It didn't take long for us to get to the top of the building.  There was a gift shop and we sat outside and chatted, smoking casually.  Then Clare announced that we were going up the tightly wound spiral staircase that lead to the very top of the cathedral.

At the top we sat down on the cold stone stairs and looked between the medieval windows.  The wind blew in quick gusts around my then, long hair.  Strasbourg was breathtakingly beautiful below with the dawn breaking on the horizon.

It's probably one of the happiest memories of my life.  My whole life ahead ................

Box of Tissues

The first thing she saw when she entered the room was a box of tissues on the small coffee table, in between the two low chairs.  How presumptuous of her to do that.  As if they would be needed, and nothing else.

Louise looked around the room, taking in as many details as possible.  The books about personal development along with 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.' Unexpected in a room for counselling she thought.  There were children's drawings blue-tacked to the wall.  Did the counsellor have children, or were they nieces and nephews.  

Gentle, soothing music was playing on a stereo and somewhere, she couldn't see where, there was a scented candle burning.  

They sat down.  Louise had to recap her week.  Talk about how she had progressed with her goals.  It felt one-sided.  Telling the counsellor all of these intimate details but knowing nothing about her.  Louise looked for clues about the woman sitting across from her, staring hard into her eyes: She was well dressed but not in an old-fashioned way.  Had dark brown eyes which were very intense when they bored through her.  No wedding ring.  Slim and exuding a calming presence.  She suited her job.

Louise broached the harder subjects, it had been a hard week.  The counsellor asked questions she didn't like but she listened and understood everything that was being discussed.  Louise felt a well of emotion over-run her.  She desperately didn't want to cry or use those tissues.  She took a deep breath and swallowed as deeply as she could.

The time went quickly after that.  Goals for next week were discussed.  

'No tissues were needed,' thought Louise. ' I win,' as she wandered back out into the real world.