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Apricot; Armed; Dividend; Motto

Tuesday 30 October 2012.

Up 09.00 +. 2 different kinds of brown bread + butter with marmalade and also apricot jam (the last of it) for breakfast; with a mug of tea. Brushed teeth: made bed: dressed in black “legal” slacks freshly laundered, black FootJoy socks, patent black Clarks, vest, Corrupt T-shirt, Everlast fleece. No exercise: washed but no shower. Paid 40c to park in Crowe Street. Armed soldiers guarding Ulster Bank in Clanbrassil Street. I could not get in. Bypass blocked. Drove by St. Alphonsus Road to the Retail Park. Hedge in Oaklawns did not need to be trimmed. Bought size 12 soccer boots in Elvery’s. Green with blue and red trim. ~ €13. Parked in Long Walk Shopping Centre. Walked to Ulster Bank. Placed in box a fast lodgement envelope containing 2 small Fyffes’ dividend cheques. Shopped in Lidl. Bread, milk, frikadellen, bananas, apples, tea. On my way from UB to LWSC car-park I had purchased 2 haddock fillets in Johnnie Morgan’s. 2 x 1.50 = €2.50. Chuffed. Rashers, 2 boneless pork chops, 1 ½ microwaved Roosters peeled + butter, an apple; for lunch. Brought in bin. Brought in coal. The Wolfgang Holzmair CD’s came in the post (x4). Listened to Die Schone Mullerin. Drank a mug of tea and ate a Tuscan roll in the afternoon with butter and mature white cheddar. Later fried 2 fillets of haddock and 2 longitudinally halved cold microwaved Roosters; the fish on the big pan in margarine, the potatoes in the small pan in butter. Ate all with salt and lemon juice; drank a generous glass of vin de pays, white wine, the last remnant from the bottle in the fridge. Cleaned up the kitchen and washed up. The first item I dried, the wine glass, crashed in smithereens on the flags of the kitchen floor when I was attempting to put it in the lower shelf of the press. Checked e-mail, stumbled, etc., on the Dell in the sitting room. Deposited €100 in the Cooley Environmental and Health Group account in the PO in Jenkinstown this morning on my way in to town. Conversation in the shop with John Finnegan who told me that the mega storm had already claimed 17 lives in New Jersey and thereabouts. New York affected too. 23.55. Going to eat weetabix, sliced banana, milk: wash 5 ½ remaining teeth: retire. Rosanna who lay on the couch in the White Elephant Lounge for a few hours under a blanket opposite the fire roused herself around 23.00 and went to bed. “To what extent?” was my motto this morning, “Am I going to be annoyed today?” Ironed 1 pair of fawn Robbie cotton stretch trousers, 1 blue Pierre Cardin cotton shirt with thin red stripe, 1 burgundy and navy striped 100% cotton Melka shirt; in the early evening after dark. Rosanna sewed on 2 buttons on my Robbie trousers and another on a pair of black Bruhl slacks; for me.

Rustled; Juicy; Cleaned Out; Sent

Friday 12 October 2012.

Played 6 holes of golf in Greenore with Alan Ratcliff starting at 10.00. Linda rustled up coffee for both of us. Lunch of smoked mackerel heated on the small pan in butter + 2 slices of buttered brown bread + fried tomato + a glass of milk + a tart juicy orange. Cleaned out the fireplace in The Old School, Bellurgan. Journalled. Cleaned out and lit the fire in the living room. Ireland 1, Germany 6. I “listened” to the match on radio playing through the Acer. Ate stew and buttered brown bread. Wheat bisks, sliced banana, milk; for supper. Tea; brown bread with butter, Brie, sliced ham: for breakfast. Sent a few texts and made a few calls about the IMPERO meeting in Bellurgan Old School tomorrow.

Accumulated; Tap-Water; Bogeyed; Remaining Teeth

Sunday 9 September 2012.

Started at 11.50 with Brian Farrell and dinged the first two holes but accumulated 37 from the next 16 despite a 6 at the last where my PW approach struck the back of the bunker and rolled on into an almost unplayable position at the bottom of the hedge on the left. I had to chip out backwards and then took 3 to get down: for a 6. Brian scored 28 total. A bottle of tap water, a pot of tea, a warm scone with butter and strawberry jam in the bar watching the second half of the All-Ireland Hurling Final. Kilkenny caught up and went ahead only for Joe Canning to put over a free with the last puck of the match for an exciting draw. The minor match was also drawn between Tipperary and Dublin. All 4 teams with different combinations of goals and points scored 19 points each. Kilkenny 0 – 19: Galway 2 – 13. Rosanna served me a chicken dinner with carrots, parsnips, potatoes, lots of gravy and stuffing. Also ate an orange and quaffed a glass of Vin de Pays, white wine. Gave Rosanna a glass. She went on to drink some more mixing the wine with red lemonade. Found out on-line that I came 3rd in the voucher competition. Chuffed and a little surprised; but I scored 22 points for the back 9. McIlroy, – 21, 3 ahead bogeyed the last to win the BMW championship at Crooked Stick by 2 from Lee Westwood and Phil Mickelson with Tiger in joint 4th. His second consecutive victory and third in four outings. I think I washed my 5 ½ remaining teeth before I retired to bed around mid-night. Weetabix, sliced banana, milk; for both breakfast and supper. I ate a Snickers playing the second hole and Brian gave me the big half of a generous banana on the 12th fairway. I think I never drank a drop of water the whole way round the golf course. Parred every hole from 11 to 17. Brian remarked, “1 banana a day!” Any more would cause constipation he asserted, as we played the 12th.

Bank holiday; Token; Honey; Sunshine

Monday 6 August 2012.

Bank holiday. Slept late and decided not to venture to Carton Demesne. Barrel loaf, 2 slices, toasted, buttered, with marmalade, tea; for breakfast. Shower. Dressed in grey Puma T-shirt, navy trunks, cappuccino Ralph Lauren sweat shirt, black FootJoy golf socks, tan 2-tone zipped boots, fawn Robbie cotton slacks and braces, new glasses. Corn flakes, weetabix, sliced banana, milk; an orange: for lunch. Practiced chipping putting waiting for Cian Dullaghan to collect the balls off the range. The machine had swallowed my token but had not coughed up any balls. Empty. Ian Brennan gave me a token in lieu and another I paid €2 for. Used only 1 token striking 3 balls with each club in the bag from P.W. to 3-metal. Motivated eventually by Ian Brennan giving a lesson to a punter behind me. “You were in hospital?” Eugene Woods said to me on the practice putting green. I complimented him on his recent win and category win on Sunday. Drank a small pot of white coffee served by a red-haired girl with a nice smile. Watched Katy Taylor storm her way to a bronze. Ate a tin of salmon with 2 heels of barrel loaf toasted and buttered and some salad. Ate the final portion of toast with a little honey. I took a siesta and Aisling decamped for the Big Smoke. She is tangling without much success with job applications for teaching posts. “Colm McCourt is a nice man?” she enquired last night. “He is,” I replied. Rosanna went to Greenore and completed 9 holes before dark. I ate a tomato/cheese/ham sandwich and drank tea. Left out the bins and lit the fire in The White Elephant Lounge. Listened to the arts program at 22.00 on “Dubliners.” Mild calm overcast today. Sunshine in the evening. Weetabix, sliced banana, milk; for supper. 23.35. Going to brush teeth and retire.

Irish Seniors’ Amateur Open Championship 2012; Clostohen

Thursday 31 May 2012.

Woke with a start at 07.00 almost too late for my 07.50 tee time. Rushed but returned from my car when I found no blue bag in the boot and packed the bag with a change of clothes. I wasted no time and got to Athenry golf club on the stroke of 07.20 in plenty of time. Incessant rain throughout the round. I wore my European Tour jacket of the wet suit I bought off Pat Hoey years ago over my white Ralph Lauren semi-polo white golf shirt with long sleeves. Black 42” slacks with turnups, fawn Ralph Lauren golf socks, tan and white Icon shoes, white Nike golf cap, glasses. The rain was of the soft variety and falling straight down with very little breeze and although I was wet to the arse all the way round I did not feel cold and I struck the ball brilliantly on many shots, with irons, 3-metal, rescue club and last but not least, the Mizuno driver. However my putter let me down. I used the BullsEye putter today instead of the “Richie Blackmore” mallet headed putter I used yesterday. Same difference. I was extremely thankful for a pair of all-weather gloves I bought off Robert Giles months ago. “Keep them in your bag. You would never know when they might come in useful,” he advised then. The first time I ever used them. I was also thankful for my brown braces especially when I saw my saturated playing partner Raymond Smith trying dolefully to hitch up his slacks in the trees by the 18th tee. Towards the end of the round he could not cope with the conditions and registered an NR. I signed for 92. Raymond had allowed my card to disintegrate in the wet but the teller cheerfully filled my score into a fresh dry card in the scorer’s office. I had kept note of the scores on an old Craddockstown card I found in my bag at the start. I struck a fine drive on 16 and a brilliant quiet 3-metal to within yards of the green. However chipped and 3-putted for a 6. The story of my life. I hit a brilliant 6-iron slightly short onto the right of the 17th, par 3, and 3 putted. Knocked down my second shot with the rescue club on 18, my only miscue of the day. Recovered with a high 6-iron dead straight over the flag at the back of the green. My shortish downhiller wandered to the right but I converted for a 5. Mission accomplished. Stripped in the locker room, took a hot shower in the cubicle Raymond had occupied before me, put on my blue Pierre Cardin shirt, clean underpants and socks, grey Robbie slacks, brown two-tone zipped soft boots. Felt I was playing well all along and when I was worried I generally hit a good shot. The lesson Robert Giles gave me a week or two ago pointed me in the right direction. I drank solo a pint of iced water in the bar and a mug of coffee (€1.50). Chat with Tom Tyrrell and his wife Mary. They were passing me in the bar on their way out to the course. Tom seemed in very happy mood despite the weather and I complimented him on how well he looked. Checked my score on the board 90 + 92 = 184. At that stage my total was the worst in the clubhouse. However there were 7 or 8 “Withdrawn” and “No Return.” It turned out that mine was the worst overall score in the end bar 1. But there were 11 competitors who did not complete the 2 qualifying rounds. In the end Seamus McParland finished second last of the qualifiers. Garth McGimpsey was 6th. Adrian Morrow won. The 2 Rossmore men acquitted themselves well and Tom Tyrrell had 3 good rounds. Frank helped me to put my clubs in the basement room to dry, I hung drapery around my room, spread my green bath towel on a bar in the bathroom; took my Canon, Powakaddy umbrella, white FootJoy golf jacket and set out towards Loughrea to find Tom Daly’s grave in Clostohen. The sat nav was not much help to me getting there. Found the grave exactly where the undertaker had helpfully explained to me it was when I phoned earlier. Took a few snaps with the Canon from underneath the umbrella in the drizzle. Struggled a little because the camera was on a delayed release setting and I had to correct that. The sat nav got me back to Raheen Woods Hotel without any delay. I had spoken to a couple sitting at table in a house opposite a graveyard and church I encountered a few kilometres before I reached Clostohen. They were friendly, gracious, took pains to explain the way to Clostohen. Satiated myself on chowder, pasta carboneri, a pot of tea. Ate so much I was uncomfortable the rest of the evening. Exchanged texts with Rosanna who plays with Emily in Greenore tomorrow evening against Banbridge in The Miele Cup. Sent a text to Dessie who rang tomorrow evening. Met Bryan Malone in the bar again this evening. He had come down from his room for a glass of ice and not long in was still wearing the (wet) clothes he had been playing in. Like me he was cheerful although his score was high. Exercised, with difficulty and a full stomach, took a shower, retired to bed; not long after 22.00. Raymond and I were the first out this morning. I told the personable young pro before setting out on the course this morning that the shower was cold yesterday. I thanked him afterwards. “Was the shower ok?” he asked. “It was red hot,” I replied gratefully.

Mission Accomplished

The parish mission which started on Saturday 25 February 2012 in Our Lady of The Wayside Church, Jenkinstown, with the mass at 19.30 at which Eva Hamill was presented with the Medal of Saint Patrick, from the Archbishop of Armagh, Cardinal Seán Brady, concluded today Saturday 3 March 2012 with a healing mass at 11.00 and anointing of the old and the ill.  The picture taken in the vestry after this morning’s mass shows Fr. Pádraig Murphy PP DD; Fr. Dan Baragry, Redemptorist Missioner; Fr. Ciarán O’Callaghan, Redemptorist Missioner.  Sitting in front is Fr. Patrick Larkin, PP emeritus of Lordship and Ravensdale.  Click to enlarge.  The mission including the youth mission; ran smoothly, was well attended, enjoyed good weather throughout.  Everyone seemed happy and fulfilled at the end.  Everyone had been engaged by the preachers who were never forceful but always interesting.  The atmosphere during the mission was attentive, devotional, genuine.

The End

Medal of St. Patrick Conferred on Eva Hamill by Bishop Gerard Clifford; Our Lady of The Wayside Church, Saturday 25 February 2012.

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Strictly Come Dancing; St. Patrick’s Clubrooms, Saturday 4 February 2012

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Cooley Environmental and Health Group; Winter Workshop 2012; Suicide Issues

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The text below is that of a letter to the editor of The Dundalk Democrat.  I had intended to read it at the workshop yesterday but pressure of time prevented me.  I hope you will take the trouble to read it and leave a comment.  A summary of the discussion at the workshop is available on www.cooleyehg.com which is the official Cooley Environmental and Health Group’s website.

The Dundalk Democrat. Edition, Wednesday 8 September 2004

A Chara

An article written by Louise Geaney headed “Plea to address problem of self-harm among youth” appeared in Saturday’s edition of The Irish Times. The article tells us that a “National Symposium on Young People’s Mental Health” will take place on 21 October 2004 in Jury’s Hotel, Cork. She elaborates, “The symposium will initiate discussion and workshops around the area of mental health for young people.” This is the principal point of an article which is devoted mainly to a discussion of suicide and para-suicide among young people in Ireland.

The connection in the article (unspoken) is that suicide is a medical issue and this is a connection which is frequently made in informal and formal discussion of the topic nowadays. Like disability the “medicalisation” of the problem seems to bring some kind of rationality and the promise of control into the area. But I wonder how valid this medical “model” is in the case of suicide any more than it is in the case of disability?

When young people are introduced to the area of mental heath in these discussions will they be given a true picture of the de-sensitisation, obesity, stigma, depression, isolation, relative poverty and dependency that, to the most obtuse observer, seem to be the inevitable companions of “help” and “treatment” in the area of mental health where young people are concerned?

Is this the kind of help that the suicidal young need to pull themselves back from the brink? On the contrary, it seems to me, that these inevitabilities are the principal probable cause for suicide (and the rate is very high) among mental patients.

There are too many small minds in education and politics in this country that seek to impose discipline, control, compliance and submission on young people in systems and pursuits which are meaningless in the wider context of things in general and militate against harmony, happiness, and humanity in families, schools, on the street.

The ideas that motivate the received expertise in these areas (“psychology” and “education”) percolate down into the very nursery and wreak terrible damage on fragile and developing personalities everywhere they go.

The “army” school of thought may produce silence in the classroom. However it can only stunt the development of open, loving personality (in girls as well as boys) and it will fail to produce real development and learning in anyone. Pythagoras’ theorem can be proved, to anyone who can multiply, in a fairly satisfactory way in ten minutes but while it is great to know it (and it is one of the most useful theorems in all of mathematics) it will do little by itself to keep a suicidal person out of the River Boyne.

No. It is important to consider issues of personal development and personal capacity which are not going to be properly developed by force and oppression. Children may have to cope with bereavement, poverty, loss, crime, peer-pressure and much more – Shakespeare refers to “the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.” The prescription and didacticism of the psychiatrist is no help. It is merely one more threat that hangs over the child (and society in general).

Mise le meas

Sean Crudden
Jenkinstown

Re-building ENUSP: Strengthening the network of users and survivors of psychiatry across Europe. Budapest 20 – 23 January 2012.

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