Behind closed doors

Head Rambles Posted on by 3

Many years ago we lived in the hell hole that is Suburbia.

It was an in between period between moving out of Wicklow and moving back in again.

The house that we lived in was in a typically bland, huge, characterless estate with all the houses crammed as close as possible. When you’re used to open spaces, Suburbia is damned crowded.

At the time I had a very nice stereo system. It was one of those modular ones with an amplifier, a turntable, a twin cassette deck, a tuner and of course the speakers [a mixture of Sansui and Sony, if anyone is interested]. Naturally I had this set up in the living room.

One day – it must have been at the weekend as normally I’d be at work – I was messing with the tuner switching between stations when a voice boomed out of the speakers. What was weird was that I recognised the voice. It was one of our neighbours. He would talk for a while and then there would be a period of silence before he spoke again. I realised I was listening to his cordless telephone.

I was in a sticky situation. Should I carry on listening or should I do the decent thing and respect his privacy? Of course I listened in! What was interesting was that I knew his Missus went off to some group every week and that Neighbour was talking to someone else. Even more interesting was the tone of the conversation – all lovey dovey and how he couldn’t wait to meet her again. So Neighbour had a Ride-on-the-Side? The dirty git! Fair play to him.

Herself caught me doing my little eavesdropping session. She castigated and chastised me for being so nosey and then took a note of the frequency for herself. Sure enough she occasionally tuned in and reported back to me. Neighbour’s Missus apparently phoned her sister on a regular basis and spent the entire sessions giving out yards about her husband – how he was a miserable old shit and mean with the money and how she loved the peace and quiet when he was out of the house. She referred to him as “The Old Bastard” or occasionally as “The Old Fucker”.

So he was off shagging his bit of fluff while she hated his guts? A fairly typical marriage?

What was very interesting was that this couple gave the appearance of the extremely happy couple. As far as the world was concerned they had the perfect marriage in the perfect house. They did everything together [especially when gardening in the front] and had bought a little caravan so they could go off on little holidays together. They chatted away together in the garden and there was never a cross word. They were well known in the estate as a very close couple. They were picture perfect.

Strange how the radio told a different story…..

Heh!

 

Learning Russian

Head Rambles Posted on by 6

The Russians have spoken.

You may remember a fortnight ago I mentioned how they were threatening to drown us and the UK in a radioactive lake? Well, our Teashop was a little miffed by this and told the Russians that they could do what they liked with the UK but to leave us alone as we’re neutral. I think that was a fair response?

Well, they have responded to his response, and this is where my understanding of things comes off the rails.

First of all they say that “the whole British archipelago is basically a sinkable island“. I suppose technically these islands could be considered to be an archipelago in that we are a group of islands but that is beside the point. The point is their complete and utter ignorance of geology. Do they seriously think we are just sitting here bobbing up and down on the Atlantic waves while fish swim beneath us? Are we anchored by gigantic cables to prevent us floating away?

Ireland is indeed surrounded by water and therefore someone of astoundingly limited intelligence might think we are floating and therefore sinkable. Not so. We are just a bit of the Eurasian Tectonic Plate which happens to poke up above sea level though technically the plate is floating on a sea of magma. To actually sink Ireland would require a shift in the tectonic plates that would be beyond cataclysmic and definitely be the end of the entire planet.

Saying that “Ireland literally flew into a rage” is a little steep? Personally I just had a good laugh and then forgot about it as did most people. And I should point out that to literally fly, we would all have to take to the air. I do however take exception to their assertion that “as a neutral country it wasn’t nice for Ireland to become collateral damage” It wouldn’t be nice? So in one sentence they admit we are neutral but will blow us up anyway? I shall die happy in the knowledge that I am officially collateral damage.

Then things get complicated.

Somehow their video was in response to something Johnson said and therefore he was the one who should apologise. There is a bit of twisted logic there? I don’t even remember Johnson threatening to sink Russia though he may have done. Maybe he made the threat while drunk at a party somewhere?

Russia is not intimidating anyone, Kiselyov said, adding that “talking about our capabilities has an anti-war modality”.

I don’t even know what the fuck that means. Not a clue.

“let’s not start. It will end badly. It’s better to live in peace

… says the country that invaded Ukraine.

 

The rise and fall

Head Rambles Posted on by 13

I remember the first time I watched the Eurovision bash.

It was in 1965 in a friend’s house as my parents wouldn’t get a television.

It was somewhat surreal as the television was a black and white affair [colour television was only a wet dream at the time] but they had added “colour” to the screen: my friend’s Da had stuck a sheet of cellophane over the screen that gave the top third a blue tinge and the bottom third a green tinge. I presume it added something if you were watching a programme showing a scene with a lot of sky and grass but it didn’t do much for the Eurovision. My friend’s Da was immensely proud of his “colour” television.

My friend was wildly excited about the whole thing and was determined to record the whole affair. This being years before the video recorder was invented, he set up a portable cassette recorder with the microphone in front of the screen. This meant we all had to watch in stony silence for the entire duration in case we ruined the recording.

The format of the programme was simple: there was one stage and one orchestra. Each country would provide one singer and their own conductor for the orchestra. Poor Noel Kelehan always got stuck with the conducting bit for Ireland. In other words, counties were judged on the song and the singer and not on anything else, as everything else was equal.

Years later, I had got hitched and had my own home. I had a colour television too. One of the experiments they used to try in those days was the “simultaneous broadcast” to provide better sound quality. It meant moving the television into the centre of the wall and setting the loudspeakers each side and then watching the picture on the television while listening to the sound on the FM radio in glorious stereo. As this experiment was run by the BBC, that was the channel of choice [watching RTE and listening to the BBC gave a surreal time-shift effect]. Those days were when I discovered the joy of Terry Wogan.

By this stage the old format of one singer, one orchestra had long gone and the singers had become acts. The whole affair was becoming more lavish to the point where people were judging the presentation and showmanship and not the song. Terry Wogan loved this format as he could rip the piss out of every act, which he did, with relish. The Eurovision became an annual event and fun to watch.

Terry Wogan left and the acts became more silly. I stopped watching as the commentators were taking it much too seriously and the songs were crap anyway. Music was forgotten in the rush to be more daft, with crazy costumes and pyrotechnics.

Last Saturday evening we watched “Queen in Rio” as I have converted Herself into a rabid Freddie Mercury fan. At one point I switched to the BBC and there was a bunch of weirdos prancing around with yellow heads, screeching somethorother. I switched back hastily. Later I tried once more but the blasting of flashing lights have Herself an instant headache so I switched channels again.

A week ago I predicted Ukraine would win. This was based purely on the silliness of the whole thing [and when did Australia join Europe?]. I hadn’t heard their entry and purely out of curiosity I found it yesterday on the Interweb. It was crap and Rap.

I fucking hate Rap.

 

Yawn

Head Rambles Posted on by 11

There is a phenomenon I have noticed recently.

I refer to the strange excitement that hits the meeja when the Moon does something that it has been doing for millennia.

Every so often we get breathless announcements of a forthcoming “super moon” just because the Moon’s orbit brings it a bit closer to Earth. If it came closer by a couple of hundred thousand miles it might be exciting but generally it’s just the Moon, where it should be, up in the sky.

Then of course there are eclipses. Wow! The excitement.

Today they are getting really wound up because not only is it a “Super Moon” but it’s going to be a total eclipse which of course means it’s a “Blood Moon” because it will appear to be reddish in colour. So it is now a “Super Blood Moon”. But it’s happening in Spring so it’s a “Super Flower Blood Moon”. Be still my beating heart. I can barely contain my anticipation.

Apparently if I want to see this phenomenon I have to be at the top of a mountain around dawn. The chances of my climbing a mountain in the dark tomorrow morning are somewhat slim so I think I’ll do the decent thing and sleep through the entire event [at ground level]. I’ll leave it up to the Instagram and Farcebook mob to astound the world with their incredible pictures.

I’m not impressed with Lunar Eclipses as you may have gathered. Solar Eclipses are a different matter as there is something rather unsettling about night falling in the middle of the day. You don’t even have to look at the eclipse to feel the effects. I remember that last big one as I was walking across the RTE campus when suddenly the light dimmed. It was a surreal feeling.

As for tomorrow’s “event”, I’m sure if I do a search on the Interwebs I will find lots of photographs of “Super Flower Blood Moons”.

There.

I have just saved myself some needless exercise.

A photograph taken tomorrow morning from somewhere else.