Brrrr county Dublin

I ACTUALLY started writing this post on the cold weather last Friday before the sad passing of Georgie Best, so I decided to post it today.

While the following aren’t great pictures, they were taken on Thursday evening as the snow began to fall ahead of what the Met called a severe weather warning, before they withdrew it. They obviously didn’t take their readings in my flat which was absolutely freezing all weekend. Thank God for the fire.


First snow of the season





Oh and despite the withdrawing of the severe weather warning and predictions of a mild winter, it is still bloody freezing, the poor doggies paws were frozen when the Young Wan got home from school yesterday.



Oh to live in a home with touch control central heating. While I love my open fire I would give it up for all over home warmth at the drop of a hat.

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs snow Dublin cold

RIP Georgie Best

I am watching the news now and seeing the hoardes of photographers and reporters camped out in front of the hospital.



I know of few people, both growing up in Belfast, and in general who did not admire his football skills and as I write this I am listening to a piece on the radio about his career and you can hear the roar of a crowd as George scored one of his classic goals.

It’s a sad day.

Technorati tags: Redmum George Best Irishblogs Irish Georgie Best Soccer legend

Red Mum, The Echo column, Nov 24

JUST because it’s the first week, I have scanned in the first Red Mum column from The Echo which was published today and is on sale in a shop near you, well if you live in south Dublin (or in Easons in Dublin city centre).



I’ll normally wait until the following Monday before including it on this site in the future. And I will include it every week as some of you may be interested to read it as well as being a handy online archive for me.

You can click on the article which will bring you to Flickr where you can view it in a larger size and I will also post the piece below.

Anyway I will be treating myself tonight after work, I think a foot pampering session, a long hot shower and a bottle of wine is well in order.

Oh and if anyone has any ideas for future columns, feel free to let me know. My email is on the side bar on the left hand side.



The First Three Months Are The Hardest!

JUST after I had my daughter some bright spark fella told me that the first three months of your baby’s life are the hardest! PAH what a bloody joke.

As many parents will be aware this absurd and ridiculous statement could only be the opinion of someone who hasn’t a baldy notion.

Let me put you straight, the first three months are a dawdle, an absolute dream.

Your new baby smells wonderful, mostly; and only needs fed, changed and loved to be happy. Course there is the sleep depravation but I would take that any day over an insolent, moody and quietly defiant teenager.

No the first 13 or so years are the definitely the easiest. Then they become a monster, an absolute teenage monster. And any parent who tells you otherwise is definitely luckier than they could ever realise, seriously deluded or are lying through gritted teeth.

Having spent the first 12 years patting myself on the back for a job well done, little did I know what was in store for me.

It wasn't enough to go to college with when the young wan was a toddler, no mean feat, or pay for a two-bedroom apartment in Dublin out of my wages, defo no mean feat, and rear the young wan completely on my own, oh no, now it is blood, sweat and tears they want.

The thought of another couple of years dealing with a stroppy teenager absolutely withers me. I can feel myself aging as each day passes, I’m only 34 and feel 50!

In our household, there has been the ongoing saga of The Untidy Room, and I use the term untidy very loosely indeed. The Untidy Room will no doubt be regularly featured here as regularly as it is featured at home.

However I could not believe my eyes when I went into it this morning; at best it is a filthy hovel; at worst, well words fail me.

I should probably threaten her with publishing pictures of it identifying her. But I don’t think she would even worry let alone do something to change it.

After all it is herself who has allowed the room to get into this state and I know she would bring pals into the hole that was formerly her room with no thought or concern of what they would think.

Teenagers have no shame.

The fact is that I did her room recently, leaving her only a few things to sort out and since then these little things have not been done so The Untidy Room has remained unfinished.

I’ve had all sorts of advice from all sorts of corners on what to do, one gem being ‘close the room door, what you can’t see…’.

Aside from the fact that my flat is the flat that Jack built and the door doesn’t close properly. So it can swing open at anytime and often the first thing you are confronted with when you come into our flat is The Untidy Room.

Closing the door just isn’t a real option or indeed a solution. Because it is a small flat it feels like the mess from the young wan’s room pervades like a bad smell throughout the flat.

I know what’ll sort it out, where are those matches?

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs Redmum Column Nov24 The Echo Dublin newspaper Dublin Ireland

Travels on the number 10 bus

YOU really never know what you will see from the bus as you travel to work and this morning even that saying surpassed itself.


My friend’s new baby.

Looking, or should I say kinda gazing without really looking I came too and realised that the woman stretched akimbo on the back seat of a car that I was blankly looking into had actually just given birth and was being rushed to hospital under police escort through the morning rush hour traffic in Phibsboro.

I had noticed a woman’s thigh lying across the back seat of a car. As the car pulled ahead I realised that I was looking at a woman cradling her wrapped up in swaddling newborn baby absolutely flaked out on the back seat after having given birth.

I was so excited I took off the auld ipod and said to the bloke sitting opposite me ‘did you see that?’

Despite wearing an identity card proclaiming him to be a staff member of the Children’s University Hospital, he didn’t seem too bothered at all.

Maybe he sees this type of thing all the time, or maybe after seeing a couple of children projectile vomit, nothing could compete.

Anyway is this bad to admit but I did really want to take a picture, but it would have been wildly obtrusive, I know, though it really would have been a brilliant shot, fantastic.

I resisted though and didn’t. So if you are disappointed sorry I can’t share that lovely moment with you. I somehow think the new mum wouldn’t feel the same about it.


Another shot I took of another friend’s baby.

Mentioning this to someone in work, they were saying ‘ach poor woman and her embarrassment’.

I don’t believe she would care, not at that stage, she had after all just given birth and as my own mother said to me and it is true modesty goes out the window when childbirth is involved.

Besides I only saw her because I was sitting on the bus raised up slightly above her, and she would have been lower than most of the traffic on the road. And anyway her modesty was protected and the most important thing is that they seemed fine and were being brought to hospital.

I do hope everything is okay, and her and the baby are fine after their police-escorted trip to the hospital.

It has put a big smile on my face today.


Congrats and well done new mum, I think you’re great.

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs childbirth phibsboro Dublin commuting bus police escort ireland number 10 Gardai

An overnight explosion of visitors

WHILE checking visitors to here, I was astounded to find there was an overnight explosion of visitors with more than 100 people stopping by since I looked late last night.

Yes I am a saddo, I find the information on visitors who stop by as provided by Statcounter.com absolutely fascinating, it is almost as addictive as blogging or flickr.


Some of the visitors who were online at the same time as me this morning

Statcounter shows you your last 100 page views and there were so many visitors since my last log in that a portion fell off the end of the information, if you know what I mean.

I reckon that easily 97 per cent of visitors since last night came via Slugger O’Toole where Mick offered his congrats at 12.05am this morning concerning my column news.

The visitors came from Budapest, England, Scotland, Ireland of course, Spain, Holland, all over the States, Finland, France, Mexico and New Zealand.

He he! can’t wait to check later, cheers Slugger (who must get a phenomenal amount of visitors) and thanks to everyone else who has offered their congrats and best wishes. I’ve been delighted with all your positive messages both here and on your own sites :)

Technorati tags:Redmum Irishblogs SluggerOToole Online Visitors Ireland The Echo

The fascination of strange searches

I ALWAYS enjoy those posts from bloggers where they spin a story around their visitors or my personal favourite samples of words and phrases that have brought people to your site.

So I have been collating some of my favourites. Of course there have been some dodgy visitors searching for very dodgy things, but they are not the people I am going to dwell on now.

Instead I feel sorry for the person who came looking for ‘big boobs mum’ or ‘women’s arses’ – you won’t find them here.

There have been umpteen visitors coming here after searching for the Leinster Womens’ Rugby calendar or the solitary visitor who came after searching for ‘uggghh Dublin’.

A couple of passed by after trying to find out ‘how much money does Bono have’ or ‘does Bono pay tax’ or ‘U2 Bono taxes’. Related to that is the couple of searches looking for information on the ‘artists’ exemption scheme’.

Others include ‘sexy Turkish delight’, ‘judging and misjudging people’ or ‘first impressions’ and a good Belfast saying ‘buck eejit’.

There has been a number of mum references including ‘mum poetry’, ‘Christmas presents for mum’s’ and ‘when to cut back mums’.

Some bizarre ones include ‘Julia Roberts Dundalk’, ‘Jamie Oliver hooker’ – oh do spill the beans and ‘Errol Flynn’s dog’.

But a personal favourite is ‘Glenda Gilson eyebrows’ so I am not the only person to notice them.

No doubt this will updated in the future as other people swing by with their weird and wonderful Internet searches.

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs Dublin Ireland google Strange searches

Red Mum the columnist

I GOT a bit of news recently that I thought I'd share with you cos I can’t contain myself, I am about to become a columnist, well me as Red Mum.

The Echo, a local paper for local people, (sorry couldn't resist that so I'll start again) ahem The Echo, a weekly local newspaper covering a significant portion of south Dublin will be publishing a Red Mum column on parenting from next week onwards.



So it goes without saying that I am chuffed to bits, chuffed to become a columnist (he he) and probably and more importantly chuffed that something really good is going to come out of finding myself the mother of a teenage monster!

I'd love to be able to provide a link to The Echo but the only link available is to a website from four years ago and there are others but they are older and obsolete really. So unfortunately unless you live in south/west Dublin, Tallaght, Ballyfermot, Clondalkin, Crumlin, Lucan or Terenure/Rathfarnham you will not be able to purchase a copy :(

I will be trawling through the archives here now and again to use in the column (as well as new stuff obviously) but as you can imagine yourself the posts will have to be rejiggled, adapted and subbed (I am wild guilty of not re-reading posts enough before publishing).

I will post my entries here a couple of days after The Echo hits the streets.

Who knows if it’ll take off, I could be doing it for a while and then it gets dropped! But for now I am going to enjoy ranting and making a few bob while I’m at it and just in time for Christmas.

Technorati tags: Redmum Irishblogs The Echo blogging Irishblogs local paper Dublin blogging income

Yet another Flickr related post

YOU never know what you can find in Flickr. Try searching the tags for the more unusual, funny or whatever you fancy pictures. So a search and then click on the most interesting button on the left hand side of the page.

For example I searched for photographs with Dublin tags and found the most interesting from Asteri Design.



Another funny series I came across in Flickr is the House Gymnastics pictures uploaded by Ampage of the Americas.

Here’s a couple of examples.







Go on and have a laugh!

Technorati tags: Redmum Irishblogs Flickr Most Interesting Dublin Ireland

Fancy a photography project

ONE of the things that I really love about Flickr is the wealth of imagination of the participants. It can be really inspiring and has me carrying my camera with me constantly something I haven’t done in a long time, and I am loving it.

I have been giving myself projects and it has helped reinvigorate my love of photography which has taken a bit of a battering over the years.

One such project I enjoyed was the Day On Earth, Sep 29 project where people took pictures on that day all over the world resulting in a blog of the same name.

My shot (shown below) managed to work its way through the 300,000-odd pictures uploaded to Flickr that day into the 500 most interesting shots of the day, as did many of the other participants in that group.



You can check out the Most Interesting shots here. But be prepared to lose an hour or two as you browse some of the amazing shots submitted by people.

So I thought about doing something similar and decided to create a St Patrick’s Day around the world 2006 group which will hopefully capture the buzz and craic of St Paddy’s Day. Fancy taking part?

It is very easy, just join Flickr if you haven’t already and join the group.

I have created a blog for the finished results and over the next while I’ll be thinking about how the finer details of the project and posting it to the group.

Redmum Irishblogs PaddysDay flickr ADOE St Patricks Day March17

Hard news...

*Sorry I fixed the link to the deodorant*

I CAME across this hard news story HA when it happened and laughed out loud at it, for many reasons as you will see if you have a read.

It concerns the theft of some deodorant cans in a shop in Portrush.

Lovely Portrush

This is an article that you would be hard-pushed to find in a small local newspaper; it just wouldn’t be newsy-sexy enough! Even if it is Lynx!!!



Only joking having spent a portion of my teenage years having my sense of smell assaulted by young men dousing themselves in this spray, I hate the stuff.

In fact I once went out with someone who appeared so cool at the time and then we found out he had won a year’s supply of Lynx in a competition, nice!

But back to my first news story, it is from January but the section for comments, all 171 of them, still attracts the odd response, the more recent being posted at the end of September. And it is the comments section that is well worth a goo, if you want to laugh out loud.

Deodorant cans stolen in Portrush.

I know I shouldn’t laugh at the next one, it is serious, it could have been dangerous, but still Oh my God! And again it’s the comments that provide the most laughs.

Police apologise after giving girl speed

Technorati tags: Redmum Irishblogs Lynx UTV news comments

Reality mirroring The Simpsons

I SUPPOSE it was only a matter of time…



I had to laugh this morning as I read an article in the freebie Metro travelling to work on the bus morning about Paul McCartney serenading astronauts in the International Space Station, didn’t James Taylor already do that? Oh yeah, that’s right, it was in The Simpsons.



The cheeky article’s first paragraph contains the phrase “in space, no one can hear you scream”…





Article in Breaking News.ie here.

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs Space Paul McCartney Simpsons Homer

TGIF - or so you would think....

WHAT a feckin Friday evening. I spent all afternoon soooo busy in work (oops I nearly typed ‘busty’ in work!), its cold, miserable, wet and I am still getting over the after effects of that nasty stomach bug that has been going around yum – then Madam (see explanation below) just excelled herself this week.

(The young wan will hereafter be known as Madam, that was always her kinda nickname in the family, ‘how’s Madam?’, ‘Madam! who left all these toys all over the living room?’, ‘MADAM who emptied the bean bag all over the floor?’, you know the scenarios. But I started calling her the young wan in the first post and kept it up believing it would preserve our anonymity, HA! As many of you will know young wan is a Dublin term and not something I have ever used for her before this blog being an Antrim woman. Now that we have cleared that up, back to what I was saying.)

As some of you may remember from a previous post found here the trouble over the phone, or should I say the fecking, ridiculously and crazily-expensive, price of a luxury-holiday phone bill.

Without getting into things that I do not feel comfortable or indeed want to get into, its been a tough couple of weeks here. Madam has been acting up in the quiet sullen way she has been adopting of late, I have worried myself to withering point and following a really, really unbelievable row of mammoth proportions, the air was cleared and a clean line was drawn, the slate was wiped clean.

Now most normal people, or so you would think, would be on their best behaviour but the mask slipped, well was tossed to the side this afternoon when she invited all her friends in to the flat after school.

Today was the first day she has been on her own after school since her Nanny came to stay two weeks ago and did she go for it or what!

It may sound strict but I will not have a gang of teenagers, particularly at their age and particularly given the fact that she is grounded, in my house when I am not there.

Like many Friday evenings in work, just as you are preparing for next week by clearing up the mess from your desk that you have garnered over this week, the phones went mad with people needing stuff done.

In between taking these phonecalls, the lovely man called and I couldn’t talk to him, then Madam called and I couldn’t speak to her at that moment.

I tried to call home but I couldn’t get through as it was constantly engaged.

Then a message came through, first from the lovely man, then one from Madam.

This was strange and the alarm bell started to softly chime because our drill is that she phones me once on the mobile and I call her straight back from work to lessen the phone bill at home.

So she never leaves a message.

Then I listened to it…

I listened to the hoops, the noise, the craziness that was obviously going on in my flat when she had inadvertently phoned me AND left the evidence in a very long and very raucous message.

When I was finally able to get through to her, a long time later, I was livid, absolutely stark-raving mad.

Course the background noise in the house was gone, things were as hush as hush can be, the little bollixes. And Madam had little to say for herself in between my rantings.

After hanging off I called her again and obviously one of her pals, and not a bright spark by the sounds of it, must have suggested she claim the noise was the telly.

*Sigh* - and a really big one at that!

And she did claim that – the buck eejit, Holy Jaysus, she really does think I came up the Lagan in a bubble.

Thats the end of going to see Wallace and Gromit this weekend, oh and the shopping too.

So it was tense to say the least when I came in, there was lots of shouting from me, lots of blank looks from Madam, so I told her to tidy her room.

And she went, lay down and fell asleep….

Fast forward through more shouting (what must the neighbours think?), there is a pile the size of a small van in the middle of her room, courtesy of myself, she’s in bed and will be up at 8am to tidy it up.

And me, I am sitting in front of a lovely fire, with a glass of wine, I am hoping there is a movie on and I am going to chill out for Ireland if it kills me.

There’s also a post in the making which I haven’t yet finished because I feel I need to tell you all the things I love about her as well the many, many wonderful things about her that are so unique to her and very special but she is doing her utmost to hide them for some dopey teenagey-bollixy reason.

I feel all I do is complain but all this has been a shock to my system and not what I am used to all up to at all, well up to now that is. And I suppose setting up this blog was really about being a cathartic approach to coping with my daughter as she grows up and all the challenges that brings to both of us.

However another couple of years of this and you could/will be visiting me in a mental hospital. Teenagers are a law onto themselves.

And just to end this post on a brighter note, here's a pic from a couple of weeks ago taken just as the sun was setting.



Technorati tags: Redmum Irishblogs TGIF teenagers

Christmas gets earlier every year

I’VE been meaning to take some shots of the very early Christmas nonsense that has been popping up all over the city in the last two weeks and only got around to it this morning.

This tree is in position on O’Connell Street, no lights yet.


And here is the Grafton Street tree, well the one at the bottom of Grafton Street, I’m sure there’s another at the top. This one is in pride of place beside the Molly Malone statue.


And the shops are ready to rake in all your money.


The Blarney Woollen Mill shop is looking particularly gaudy…


All this just serves to remind me that I am just not ready and I should be taking advantage of the fact that I will not be paid weekly for much longer, it will probably stop in the next couple of weeks. Therefore I should be trying to get bits and pieces each week.

Christmas is a bloody tough time of year especially seeing as how the young wan is getting older and presents get more and more expensive.

Ah well, what can you do?

When I was taking these pics I noticed a group of young revellers on their way home, or on their way to breakfast, in the morning commuting rush hour in all their evening finery after their Debs Ball which must have taken place last night.

They are a normal sight at this time of year and the young women always look freezing, well they are in ball gowns with nothing but a fancy wrap around them on a November morning at 8am.



In the pic above you will notice a young man with his back to the camera beside the girls in their finery wearing a coat AND scarf. He is actually with the young women… and he looks lovely and warm, charming or what?



In Belfast your Debs ball was your formal, short for formal dinner dance and it was held once a year. The end of the night was always marked or should I say marred by a long walk in the cold to get a taxi and the gentlemen who escorted you would give you his tuxedo jacket for warmth. It’s a rite of passage, or so I thought until I saw this very ungentlemanly man.



I hope his mum gives him a slap around the legs when he gets home.

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs Ireland Dublin Christmas Debs Balls Christmas Trees

IBCC Fundraising Event

GERRY McLaughlin has organised an IBCC fundraising event of ‘Poetry Reading and Song’ for 3pm on Sunday 13th November 2005 in the John Hewitt bar, lower Donegall Street, Belfast.

The words of Kate O’Brien, Frederico Garcia Lorca and Pablo Neruda will be read and performed by:-

Maria Gallego-Calderon (Spain)

Catherine Rojas-Olavarria (Chile)

Gerard McLaughlin

Gerry James

All welcome. Spread the word. I tried hard to find some links but couldn't. But I will look again.

And just to provide some colour to the post, here's a shot I took from the top deck of the bus as I went home on Monday evening. The rain was coming down in sheets and having waited for a while on the bus, I was delighted to see and delighted to be looking out at the wet city from my vantage point.

Leinster ladies are not bruisers

FLICKING through the Evening Herald this evening, I was gobsmacked by an article concerning the latest fundraising calendar produced by Leinster Ladies rugby.



One line in particular really got my goat "it's not just a gratuitous piece of titillation, the project is designed to raise money".

Ehm yeah right, however it is most certainly gratuitous and certainly titillating for those who are into that and I am sure there are many, but come on, call a spade a spade. Titillation, titillation, titillation, oh and gratuitous, gratuitous, gratuitous.

The photographs look to be nicely shot and nicely lit with nubile women with great figures only what is it that is wrong, oh yes, there are no faces, just arses, boobs, etc, etc.

Now I do realise that maybe the women would not agree to take part unless their face was covered, maybe some would.

But this brings me to one of the most fundamental arguments against pornography where women’s bodies or should I say parts of women’s bodies are objectified (and no I am not saying this calendar is pornography but it is not a calendar celebrating women in sport, women's bits maybe but not women in sport).

Is this good for women’s rugby? Well it might increase their coffers somewhat but no – it is a massive backward step for women being taken seriously in rugby. But at least the players have lovely pictures of their arses!

Oh the article finishes with the line “the calendar... certainly proves that not all rugby-playing women are hearty bruisers”.

Cos we all know that being a bruiser is a bad thing in rugby. Well thank God for that, here was me complaining about women being objectified but at least they are not hearty bruisers!

And if you want to purchase the calendar, here’s the address. *sigh*

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs Leinster Ladies rugby Leinster Ireland

Below average for logical intelligence, I don't believe it

Nice to know I am above average in most of the categories except logical intelligence! How can that be, I am the most logical person EVER! Ah well you can't have everything. Oh and I doubt my old maths teacher, much as she thought I was smart, would agree with the genius title, course I do!
Surfing at work is a bad idea!

Your IQ Is 125

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius Your General Knowledge is Exceptional

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

The saga of the keys

FOLLOWING the third loss of the only set of housekeys in two weeks, I believe that they are developing a personality of their own and are choosing to hide.



But it’s not just about their apparent loss; my rant has also to do with the fact that despite visiting THREE separate locksmiths/keycutter on FOUR separate occasions, not one, NOT ONE of the feckers have managed to properly cut a key copy that works. Not one, no times, they just do not work in the door.

My story begins back in June, when one morning the young wan decided to take my keys instead of her own. Big mistake though I didn’t know it at the time.

I had already made a copy of the flat door key as the young wan had previously lost her set. And the day she borrowed my keys I realised it didn’t work, the key used would not even go into the lock as it was too big.

Then she lost MY keys.

So not having a key to the front door of my flat meant that it could not be locked, so it is just as well that Dublin people are not into robbing houses…

I made a second visit to another locksmith just before going on holiday, and asked him to try and make a copy of the flat door key, even though it didn’t work, I figured that if he would try by using a smaller width key that it may work.

But he refused point blank, wouldn’t try, not at all to my disbelief. I told him that I wouldn’t come back to complain if it didn’t work but I was desperate and needed to try before dismantling the whole lock.

So I decided to get two copies of the front door key, went home, put them in the door one at a time and not one of the feckers worked, not one, they wouldn’t even go in the door.

One new lock, not key, a feckin lock later, the young wan mislaid the keys in the flat and was locked in all day and unable to go to school as I had already left for work.

So two weeks ago I got another key cut from another locksmith. Guess what? You got it – it didn’t work.

Not that it should have surprised me because he took all of half a minute to do it.

Then the young wan mislaid the keys again and spent another day locked in the house.

ARrrgrghhhHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

And then *hangs head in shame* I mislaid them on Sunday night. When Nanny and the young wan arrived back home from Belfast, I went to the table where they were left to throw them out the window (I love that having an occasional inclination to be lazy and not wanting to walk down the stairs) and *POOF* they had vanished.

We have spent Monday and Tuesday looking for them, well sorry Nanny has been locked in the flat until the young wan comes back from school. Well not actually locked in but she can’t leave until someone returns. And thankfully until today, the weather was such that she didn’t actually want to go anywhere.

They eventually turned up ON THE TABLE. The table where I looked at least five times, where Nanny looked many times, the young wan looked but she doesn’t count as something could be waving at her and she wouldn’t see them.

Meanwhile Nanny went back to the last locksmith this week and despite me telling her how quick he was and useless and how the results did not work, she allowed him to make two copies in less than a minute. There was no filing, no buffing nothing and of course neither key works.

So I am bringing back all three keys that he cut and I will stick them up each nostril and am still debating what to do with the third.

Regarding the previous two cut before going on holiday, I will do the same and I am still pondering what to do about the original crap locksmith and the one key.

Why is nothing ever easy in the Red Mum household?


What we may have to resort to, pic from here.

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs keys lost keys

Wrinkles, eyebrows and permanent surprise

I HAVE a new wrinkle, or maybe it is not a wrinkle and instead is a emphasis point on my face for the young wan to realise that I am actually asking a question that requires an answer which will not be resolved with the blank look preferred by most teenagers.

The latest wrinkle has appeared above my eyebrow and I noticed it last night after the latest exchange with the young wan as I brushed my hair.


Not me but it is there!

Above my arched eyebrow was an arched wrinkle, great. Next stop is the grey hairs, double great!! I may watch that arched eyebrow or I might start to look like Glenda Gilson, who looks more and more surprised each time I see yet another picture of her. *yawn*



Seeing as how there’s not much I can do to stop the auld wrinkle, creams etc aside, well nothing that I would do, such as botox-route, maybe I should just go full out on the Roger Moore eyebrows with a life of their own angle.



So when does a wrinkle become a wrinkle, I’ve had ‘expression lines’ on my forehead forever. In fact I always remember my Dad berating me for ‘being too expressionate’ as it would give me wrinkles.



Bear in mind this is the same man who brought me! Oil of Ulay (in the days before Olay) when I was seven years old and told to start taking care of my skin.

Of course, it wasn’t for me, it was for him. But being a man in a house full of testosterone and me at seven being the nearest to a woman and such products that was his excuse and he stuck to it.

So I suppose technically I have had wrinkles for years! *sighs*

Which brings me seamlessly along to something very funny I discovered here.

For April Fool’s Day a photographic magazine asked readers to clean up or ‘fix’ Dorothea Lange’s iconic The Migrant Mother photograph taking during the depression.


Before and after…

The comments from readers are very funny and worth reading. Check out the magazine's response to irate readers here.

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs wrinkles

Redmum the centenarian blogger - 100 posts!

WHEN posting my last entry I realised that I was on post number 99 so I decided that I would make my 100th post a themed one.


Thanks to Mountain Mike from Flickr.

So one quick search on google and I found some 100-related links, and here are the ones that caught my eye in particular order.



The 100 greatest people of the last 100 years.

The top 100 April Fool hoaxes.


The top 100 books.

The Living to 100 Life Expectancy Calculator© brought to you by Dr. Thomas Perls in partnership with the Alliance for Aging Research.

Write 100 words, no more, no less, every day.

The 100 most misspelled words in English language.



Technorati tags: redmum 100 Irishblogs

Belfast celebrates CS Lewis

"Belfast launches C.S. Lewis festival" it’s the first ever festival and about time too.



I loved his books when I was growing up, absolutely loved them and was delighted and thrilled to learn that like me he was from Belfast.



And I was always so vexed that no wardrobe I ever came across did that.

I would have loved to hear Anthony Hopkins take on a Belfast accent for Shadowlands, sadly it wasn't to be. Oh how I cried at the end of that movie when CS Lewis sat in front of the wardrobe with his lover's son after she died saying that he missed her.

You grow up knowing about Belfast people doing all sorts of amazing things such as the guy who died the chariot race in Ben Hur, or the fact that Errol Flynn's father taught in Queen's University and that Errol would stay in the family house in Stranmillis. As you drive past Strandmillis College, you can see the house.

Apparently Errol had scribbled some unsavoury remarks about a Hollywood leading lady on a wardrobe in the house (in keeping with the wardrobe theme).

We are very proud of our Belfast brothers and sisters. Well if you do not pat yourself on the back, who will?

Belfast Abu!

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Pigeonholing and first impressions

I’VE had a few occasions lately where it’s like deja-vu and I am back to when the young wan was a baby and people are looking at me like I am an incompetent single parent.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not a wildly paranoid person but there have been instances where this judging has definitely been the case and as such it has always been very important for me as a mother to show that people’s perceptions are often wrong and badly misguided.

I suppose that’s why I have warmed to the characterisation of Vicky Pollard on Little Britain. I am sure it is very funny, I am sure that there are people who ‘fit’ that description and character.

Though while I know of quite a few single parents, it’s funny that none resemble Vicky Pollard.

As my baby has grown up, so have I and I no longer look like the young teen mother I looked before, even though I had her at 21 but was ehm blessed! by looking younger.

I would reckon that in 100 cases where I feel judged I am right 60 per cent of the time, the rest it is myself who needs a kick in the arse.



However I wouldn’t have always felt paranoid, circumstances and people’s reactions or comments or looks, whatever, have made me feel that way over time.

As I get older the more I come to the conclusion that I do not or should not care what people think, if they are wrong, that’s the bottom line, they are wrong.

I’ll give you an example or two.

When the young wan was about six months old, I had been feeling off all week and had put off going to the doctor as it cost £20 at the time (I think, it now costs €40) and earning only £100 a week of which £45 went to a crèche and £17 went on rent. So as you can imagine rushing to the doctor at the drop of a hat or a sniffle just wouldn’t happen.

I felt ill for a couple of days without getting better then about three days into it, so did my wee baby. So off we went to the doctor.

The doctor ignored me, it was almost like ‘you’re old and ugly enough to take care of yourself’ and tended to my baby.

At the end of the day I was more worried about my daughter so fine, work away Dr Dismissive!

However then she started to speak VERY, V.E.R.Y S.L.O.W.L.Y saying ‘y.o.u.r d.a.u.g.h.t.e.r h.a.s a s.o.r.e t.h.r.o.a.t’.

I looked at her blankly, then puzzled and said, ‘ehm I K.N.O.W isn't that why I brought her in?”

Then I dropped in the fact that earlier in the morning I had already spoken to my brother ‘the doctor’ for advice.

It is ridiculous but I needed to do that on a number of occasions just to try and dispel whatever nonsense was being thought, and sometimes it worked. Isn’t that disgraceful?

Or there is the time that I sprained my finger and the next day it was as painful off the young wan and I went to the A&E of our local hospital.

She would have been about six at the time with manners and consideration that would put you all to shame.

We sat and waited while another child who was with his mum and dad ran riot all over the place.

As it was busy, if someone needed to sit down, the young wan would jump up and give them her seat before landing on my knee.

A matron or something kept firing me dirty looks, which I duly ignored. Then she came over and informed me the seats were for patients and I replied I know which is why my daughter is giving up her seat when someone needs it.

The matron ignored the tearaway who was sprawling over seats unchecked by his parents and asked me to control my daughter before asking could I not send her home as an A&E department is no place for a child.

I replied I can hardly give her the keys to the flat and tell her to walk the 20 minutes home and let herself in and sit quietly until I returned, though she would.

I also told the Matron to look around a bit better and she would see that in actual fact the only child that she should be watchful of was the other one, not mine.

Do not get me wrong, if my child was being bold, I would be the first to chastise her, but she never was, she did what she was told.

However, the upshot was, she obviously did not believe me and I was seen to by a doctor within 10 minutes, skipping the queue, just so this Matron could get the two of us out of there. Work away Matron, fantastic.

Instead of a three-hour or so wait, we were back home in no time leaving the bold child to run riot all over the shop. Serves the Matron right!

So as we have both gotten older this prejudice (and it is) is not as frequent but it still happens and happens too often for my liking.

However, I do know the problem is not with me, not at all, the problem is with people who think they know me or my circumstances or whatever when they blatantly do not.

If I am being honest I am as guilty at times of jumping to conclusions, weighing up a situation wrong, misjudging people or having a very wrong first impression.

I had a great one the other day. There is a mad woman who drinks in a local pub and she is mad. She is older and made up like a madly, made-up thing, she flirts with all the men, she’s loud and did I say mad.

When I met the lovely man the other night for a drink, he was sitting finishing the Irish Times simplex crossword.

She saw him, came over and said in a broad Dublin accent how she had one left to do and maybe he could help her out. Only she had nearly done the cryptic and was stuck on one clue, which I am delighted to say I finished for her.

The point is that in all my first impressions of her, tackling the Irish Times Cryptic crossword wasn’t one of them. I haven’t finished one, and if I am honest it has even been years since I started one.

I just love it when my misguided first impressions are swept away by one thing, making me reassess my own prejudices. If we are not open to that, we are a shower of shits.

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Halloween from the train

TAKING the train from Belfast to Dublin last night it is almost hard to see Ireland as anything other than a pagan country, I did say almost...

Having caught the 6.10pm train back down to Dublin I was entertained by the constant flash of fireworks the entire journey, all 100 miles or so.

With the clocks going back on Saturday night, it was completely dark by the time the train began its journey.

From Belfast until Dublin, the darkness was broken now and again by a bonfire surrounded by shadowy figures, quite magical! Again this was the case the whole way down the journey.

While the Belfast/Dublin train is not the same train used years ago where you could hang out the window, I was determined to try and capture the fireworks from the train.

This was no mean feat considering the windows do not open and they are double glazed meaning it is practically impossible to take a picture without the reflection from the inside of the carriage also being included.

But I persevered which seemed to make the other passengers beside me somewhat confused.

I was happy with my attempt which caught some fireworks being let off in Newry. What I like especially about the picture is that you can see I am in a moving vehicle/train by the way the lights are trailing in a line. Then you see that despite the train’s movement, I managed to capture some the fireworks going off.



When I arrived in Dublin, it sounded like a war zone. Okay that is a slight exaggeration but the noise across the city marked Halloween very well. While I was worried about the effects of the loud bangs on the dogs, she was not bothered in the least and was more interested in getting out of her travelling box.

Next stop Christmas, apparently.

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