09:35
I undertake an early-morning mission to grab some juice and a paper from the dingy inconvenience store nearby. While I'm at it, and further to my new found positive relationship with the traditional Post Office, I commit to performing a public service and return a heap of fail-mail falsely flunked into the letterbox I share with twenty other tenants in my apartment building. The lobby floor ends up like a dead letter office for this whole section of town.
Lo and behold, I happen upon an actual postman at the corner. He’s bounding along, lips pursed to a jolly whistle, bag slung over his shoulder and judging by the dynamic ebb and flow of his movements toward each letterbox he encounters, I note that he could probably mail the missives blindfold.
I will upon the ebullient passing post-person my horde of orphan mail. Politely, I show him letters with clearly type-written labels that are not intended for my address, but for addresses many streets away. I relate how it's an ongoing problem. I point to my place on Church Hill, no more than a fly-spit away from where we are standing. He double-takes at the addresses and summarily bunches the bale back into my hand with a knowing smile. 'It's not my beat,' he chortles, indicating Parklife street, which runs directly perpendicular to Church Hill, is all he's responsible for. 'But I believe the fella who does it needs glasses.' With that, he walks away whistling, with a knowing chuckle.
So near yet so far. I'm left standing with a sheaf of spam while the career mail-carrier acts as though none of it has anything to do with him. Shrugs.
I do the decent thing and repost them, making some enquiries. I am advised to dial the main district post office. When I get through and explain, I'm told to blame the 'computer' and the man with the gruff voice who answers says "Oill take care of it." I assume he's a coder, then.
10:12
On hold with Eircom, as usual. Unusually, not getting any "your call is important to us" vibes so am having to wonder, have the robots been whispering about me behind my back?
10:25
Is the "Greater Dublin area" well defined? Does the population increase as more people move in or as the city spreads out?
11.43
Oh Mother: A 31-year-old Dublin man has been shot dead shortly after he was let out from Mountjoy Prison on day release. The victim, who has been named locally as Mark Byrne, was shot three times on Berkeley Road in Phibsboro in north Dublin, a short distance from the prison.
12:55
Mater Misercordia. Murder in the borough. Cold and rainy. Deadly sins struck against the background of the Mother of Mercy hospital. 'See that fella comin' ouh a da Joy? T’ree bullits ‘nda head he goh.' The winds scold the tram tracks throughout the bullets-flying inner city. Skin and hair blasts to and fro like storm-tossed tumbleweed. Sirens wail. Sisters of Mercy scowl. Someone just got whacked.
13:46
CALLER: I took a couple of grand out of me wedding fund to buy Liverpool tickets. 1600 bucks. Told us the flights were cancelled. Shocked, we were. Absolutely. The girl said she's not auto-rised to talk to me about it.
14:15
MISC CALLERS: Fix the flights to Liverpool, the queue in the post office and the fact that we cant get our suicidal mother into a home. This is her sixth suicide attempt. The head was swollen up on her when we found her hanging last time.
14:26
And sure, the traffic is bollixed the whole rest of the day. AA Roadwatch is describing the situation as "an incident". "Incident" me bollix. It's the decline of civilization, so it is.
17:22
You would nearly need to take your flowers in. Frostbitten at the start of summer they'll be.
18:23
With breakthrough technology. On the front, and back. Buy a place in Dubai. We'll be in the Four Seasons. With 3D.
18:34
Pretentiouse:
Radio film critic hasn't seen The Office but reckons about Ricky Gervais that he's one of the best British comics in the last 30 years. He saw him being interviewed on Jonathan Dross’ chat show.
20:32
The good news is I have an ordinary phone line at home now so at least I have shiteband. Thank Xero for that.
I undertake an early-morning mission to grab some juice and a paper from the dingy inconvenience store nearby. While I'm at it, and further to my new found positive relationship with the traditional Post Office, I commit to performing a public service and return a heap of fail-mail falsely flunked into the letterbox I share with twenty other tenants in my apartment building. The lobby floor ends up like a dead letter office for this whole section of town.
Lo and behold, I happen upon an actual postman at the corner. He’s bounding along, lips pursed to a jolly whistle, bag slung over his shoulder and judging by the dynamic ebb and flow of his movements toward each letterbox he encounters, I note that he could probably mail the missives blindfold.
I will upon the ebullient passing post-person my horde of orphan mail. Politely, I show him letters with clearly type-written labels that are not intended for my address, but for addresses many streets away. I relate how it's an ongoing problem. I point to my place on Church Hill, no more than a fly-spit away from where we are standing. He double-takes at the addresses and summarily bunches the bale back into my hand with a knowing smile. 'It's not my beat,' he chortles, indicating Parklife street, which runs directly perpendicular to Church Hill, is all he's responsible for. 'But I believe the fella who does it needs glasses.' With that, he walks away whistling, with a knowing chuckle.
So near yet so far. I'm left standing with a sheaf of spam while the career mail-carrier acts as though none of it has anything to do with him. Shrugs.
I do the decent thing and repost them, making some enquiries. I am advised to dial the main district post office. When I get through and explain, I'm told to blame the 'computer' and the man with the gruff voice who answers says "Oill take care of it." I assume he's a coder, then.
10:12
On hold with Eircom, as usual. Unusually, not getting any "your call is important to us" vibes so am having to wonder, have the robots been whispering about me behind my back?
10:25
Is the "Greater Dublin area" well defined? Does the population increase as more people move in or as the city spreads out?
11.43
Oh Mother: A 31-year-old Dublin man has been shot dead shortly after he was let out from Mountjoy Prison on day release. The victim, who has been named locally as Mark Byrne, was shot three times on Berkeley Road in Phibsboro in north Dublin, a short distance from the prison.
12:55
Mater Misercordia. Murder in the borough. Cold and rainy. Deadly sins struck against the background of the Mother of Mercy hospital. 'See that fella comin' ouh a da Joy? T’ree bullits ‘nda head he goh.' The winds scold the tram tracks throughout the bullets-flying inner city. Skin and hair blasts to and fro like storm-tossed tumbleweed. Sirens wail. Sisters of Mercy scowl. Someone just got whacked.
13:46
CALLER: I took a couple of grand out of me wedding fund to buy Liverpool tickets. 1600 bucks. Told us the flights were cancelled. Shocked, we were. Absolutely. The girl said she's not auto-rised to talk to me about it.
14:15
MISC CALLERS: Fix the flights to Liverpool, the queue in the post office and the fact that we cant get our suicidal mother into a home. This is her sixth suicide attempt. The head was swollen up on her when we found her hanging last time.
14:26
And sure, the traffic is bollixed the whole rest of the day. AA Roadwatch is describing the situation as "an incident". "Incident" me bollix. It's the decline of civilization, so it is.
17:22
You would nearly need to take your flowers in. Frostbitten at the start of summer they'll be.
18:23
With breakthrough technology. On the front, and back. Buy a place in Dubai. We'll be in the Four Seasons. With 3D.
18:34
Pretentiouse:
Radio film critic hasn't seen The Office but reckons about Ricky Gervais that he's one of the best British comics in the last 30 years. He saw him being interviewed on Jonathan Dross’ chat show.
20:32
The good news is I have an ordinary phone line at home now so at least I have shiteband. Thank Xero for that.
