Month: August 2016

It takes all kinds to make a world, including some who have no respect for it. Some people would happily throw their rubbish into your garden if they thought they would get away with it and they often try. There are others who regularly dump their leftover food and coffee cups out the car window while returning to whatever hovel they inhabit.

There are more who would leave the old washing machine outside your front door. I suspect that some would happily chuck their rubbish over the Cliffs of Moher and not bat an eyelid. Litter bugs and fly tippers are causing problems all over Ireland.

Dublin City Council recently captured cctv images of a number of culprits dumping their rubbish on the streets. And we’re not just talking about sweet papers here. They were leaving full refuse sacks of waste on the public footpaths. One guy was filmed dumping a couch.

The Council put some of these images on a giant poster and put it on the wall near the spot where people were leaving their refuse. The effect was immediate and it wasn’t long before one of the litter bugs appeared at the office of Dublin City Council asking them to remove the image before his neighbours saw it. Well done to the Council and they should be commended for their efforts. But not everyone agrees.

The Data Protection Commissioner is now jumping up and down making noises about peoples’ right to privacy. Well in my mind you forfeit your right to privacy if you engage in illegal and antisocial behaviour. That includes dumping your rubbish in the street.

There is no doubt that as a nation we are pretty poor at maintaining a litter free environment. For some reason we don’t appear to have much of a difficulty in discarding our litter in public places. The evidence is there for all to see on every street and road in the country particularly after the weekends. Sadly it’s one of the first things you notice when you return from a spell abroad.

There are people who would prefer to throw their rubbish anywhere rather than bring it home and put it in a bin. If you see someone doing this, don’t be afraid to report it to the gardai. Just give them the details along with the registration number of the car and they’ll do the rest.

Take a look outside the fast food outlets in the early hours of a Saturday or a Sunday morning in the city centre and the amount of discarded food and drink containers is quite staggering. For most of us, the idea of finishing a take-away and just dropping the left-overs on the ground seems unnatural and goes against the grain. But this is not the case for everyone.

It takes a serious effort to clean up this mess and just because local authority sweepers are going to tackle the job shouldn’t mean that it’s ok to treat the street like a land fill site. Tidy Towns groups exist all over Ireland and these volunteers give up their free time to go out and about, collecting the rubbish that others have deliberately thrown away. They shouldn’t have to do that.

Fly tipping is another serious issue. It’s difficult to understand the mindset of individuals who would prefer to dump their rubbish illegally and blight the countryside rather than pay to have it removed properly. It’s not unusual to see old fridges, washing machines, mattresses and bags of waste dumped over farmers’ gates or unloaded into streams. It’s disgusting and so are those responsible.

There are rules and regulations in relation keeping public areas free of litter and the law nominates certain individuals to be liable for that responsibility.

Leaving or throwing litter in a public place is an offence that can be subject to an on-the-spot fine of €150, or a maximum fine of €3,000. These fines can be issued by a litter warden appointed by the local authority or by a garda and we should see more of these.

The amount of landfill sites available are decreasing rapidly every year so we really need to educate people on waste reduction. We can all do our bit to reduce the amount of waste by reducing the amount we produce, and the waste that cannot be reused may be recycled or composted. Waste that cannot be reused, recycled or composted needs to be disposed of safely. And it would appear that while some of us are getting better at it we still have a long way to go.

We have laws, rules and regulations in relation to dumping rubbish and litter but you have to wonder why these should even be necessary. You would think that keeping your own street or estate in a decent condition would be a natural inclination. You would think that residents would have enough respect for themselves and their neighbours that they would make a little effort to keep the area clean. And a little effort is all it would take.

We regularly hear complaints that Ireland is fast becoming a nanny state but it seems to be a fact of life in Ireland that we are unable to do anything right without being told how to do it. We need to be threatened with fines and imprisonment before we start to act properly and even then it’s a struggle.

The real solution here lies in the hands of the culprits but unfortunately it isn’t easy to get this message across to people who have barely progressed from dragging their knuckles along the ground. The local authorities get a lot of stick about litter on our streets and our countryside but they’re not the ones putting it there.

There are some who have suggested to me that since I started writing this column I have become very cranky and I am always complaining about something. Well, that may very well be the case but that is probably because there is no shortage of things to complain about. And I might as well tell you that I’m far from finished yet.

I have been moaning about the climate in Ireland for some time now. Especially after the winter we’ve just had which must have been one of the wettest on record. So after months of dirty grey clouds, non-stop rain, wind, cold and dampness, we’re entitled to get excited about a bit of sunshine. We didn’t get to see all that much of it this summer.

But as soon as the sun comes out to play we have the merchants of doom telling us how bad the sun is. How it shrinks our skin and makes us look like prunes, all mummified and leathery looking. They tell us to stay away from it and to remain indoors for all eternity and hide behind the couch. Pull down the blinds and block out those nasty rays.

Don’t dare to look out the window. White is good they say so use factor 90 on your skin all year round. While you’re waiting for Santa to come down the chimney you should splash some gunk on the entire family including the dog, the budgie and anyone who comes to visit.

I heard an expert one day on the radio giving advice about skin care. The source of her expertise wasn’t quite clear to me at the time but she was basically advocating that we should be using factor 50 sun protection from March to October. She was adamant that every piece of exposed skin should be plastered in the stuff. We should also be wearing hats, sun glasses, gloves and body armour.

Now, I’m not too sure where this lady came from but she didn’t sound too exotic so I imagine she was from around these parts. Even a casual observer of the weather in this neck of the woods would probably determine that we don’t get a lot of sunshine. Even in the sunny south east, grey is the predominant colour so maybe someone should tell her to calm down a bit.

I can recall being in Australia many years ago and I was told that if the children came to school without sun screen and a hat they wouldn’t be allowed outdoors for any recreation. They would remain inside until they were collected at the end of the school day. The Aussies are paranoid about the effects of the rays of the sun and the associated risk of skin cancer.

And that’s understandable. The sun shines there for most of the year and their summers are hot enough to cook humans. Considering that there is a huge hole in the Ozone Layer over their heads, then that probably gives them the right to be cautious. Skin cancer is a serious business.

According to the Irish Cancer Society, the best way to prevent all types of skin cancer is to avoid overexposure to the sun. The sun is usually at its hottest around midday, but it can also be very strong and have potentially damaging effects at other times. Their advice is not to spend long periods in the sun during the day and to make sure you spend time in the shade and cover up with clothes as well as sunscreen.

The Irish Association of Dermatologists is Ireland’s leading professional body on skincare. They recommend that people do not use sunbeds or sunlamps. Sunbeds and lamps can be more dangerous than natural sunlight because they use a concentrated source of ultraviolet (UV) radiation.

According to the Irish Examiner, Irish skin cancer rates have risen by 39% in little over a decade, with sun exposure in childhood contributing to as many as 4,280 adult diagnoses every year. The findings are revealed in a detailed analysis of trends over the past 20 years published by the National Cancer Registry of Ireland.

According to the report, every year an average of 6,889 cases of “invasive skin cancer” are diagnosed in this country — the equivalent of 18 patients a day. From the mid-1990s until the end of 2001, the research team, said there was “little overall change in incidence rates, with rates in females remaining fairly level and a slight decline in males”.

The research by the National Cancer Registry of Ireland also found that men are more likely than women to develop skin cancer. The report said adult men have a far higher risk of developing tumours on their scalp, neck, and arms.

The study suggested this “may relate to the greater proportion of males having outdoor occupations and therefore more long-term chronic sun exposure than females”. As in other countries, the majority of diagnoses involved patients over the age of 60.

So the general advice from those in the know would appear to be to stay out of the sun if you can. If you can’t, then make sure the sun can’t get at you and above all, avoid sunbeds altogether. Staying out of the sun is not a difficult task for anybody living in Ireland and it’s just as well we’re not advised to stay out of the rain.

I have an idea and just to be on the safe side this is what you should do. Put your bucket and spade in the recycling and go find yourself a cave where you can live like a bat and you should be safe enough. Of all the bats that you know personally, I bet you can’t name one that has skin cancer.

Last night the Rose of Tralee was interrupted when Matt O’Connor, who was dressed as a priest, rushed on to the stage carrying a banner. He was shouting something that sounded like “Farmers for justice!” He was tackled by security men and removed from the stage and handed over to the gardai.

This guy and his comrades have carried out similar stunts in the UK and he was happy to take responsibility for the protest.

He was interviewed today on Newstalk and he told Johnathon Healy that he was happy with the protest and considered it to be very successful. He said that this was the start of his campaign in Ireland and he was planning other stunts here in the future.

The only down side to the evening for him was not the fact that he upset the proceedings or spoiled the night for the girl he interrupted but the fact that he was manhandled off the stage. He is talking to his legal advisor about what course of action they can take in relation to the rough treatment he received prior to being handed over to the police.

What planet is this guy living on? He interrupts a major broadcast by entering the main stage, wearing a disguise, holding a poster and shouting some slogan that many people had trouble making sense of and he’s complaining about being treated roughly.

Given the climate we are currently living in and given the atrocities that have been committed in recent times across Europe by characters wearing disguises and shouting slogans I think Mr. O’Connor should be thanking his lucky stars that he isn’t laying in a morgue on a marble slab. Anti-terrorist police in other countries might have reacted a little differently.

I know nothing about this O’Connor guy but he hasn’t done anything to convince me that he is a responsible adult who has the makings of a fit parent.

 

 

 

Those of us of a certain age don’t tend to complain much generally about the poor service we receive or the bad attitude of the person we are dealing with. Ok we complain and bitch to each other about the bad meal we had or the bad tempered taxi driver that brought us home but we rarely have a moan at the time of the actual event.

We seldom tell the offenders what we think of them, preferring instead to keep our mouths shut and grumble later to anyone else that will listen. We might even ring the local radio station because it’s a lot easier to crib into a phone than it is to confront someone face to face.

There are a couple of reasons for this. Firstly, when we were growing up we were taught to mind our manners, speak when you’re spoken to and to say please and thank you. If you didn’t, you either got a clip around the ear or your mother squeezed your arm so tightly that she cut off the circulation while chatting away to the neighbour without missing a beat.

We were also regularly advised by mothers and grandmothers to stop complaining. We had no right to complain unless we had experienced a famine or we were on deaths door. If you complained at anything less than a terminal illness then you were simply an ungrateful wretch. It was drilled into us, so much so that we were afraid to say anything that might cause offence and we carry that with us today.

Secondly, there is a more practical reason for us keeping our mouths shut and it involves self -preservation. Somewhere in the back of our mind we are afraid that if we complain about the steak being too tough at the local restaurant, the waiter will take it away and replace it with a piece of meat that has tested positive for mad cow disease and has been sneezed on for good measure by the entire kitchen staff.

Or if we dare to complain about the wine not being to our liking, it might be replaced with a bottle of vinegar containing the bodily fluids of an angry chef. If we give the taxi driver a telling off about his bad attitude he might bring us home via Sneem and charge us an arm and a leg for the privilege. So to be on the safe side, we say nothing until we are safely out of harms way and then we can let rip.

I remember as a young lad going into a local hardware store one day. The owner, long since dead, was a well- known character and his short fuse was legendary. You could get a good bargain from him but there was a cardinal rule, don’t ever return anything. He was a big guy and was very imposing.

A lady who obviously hadn’t heard about this unwritten rule had brought back a coffee table that she told him was wobbly. He picked it up, studied it for a bit then raised it over his head and threw it the length of the shop. It hit the floor and exploded with bits of it flying in all directions. Then he looked at the shaken woman who feared that she was about to suffer the same fate as the unfortunate table, and he said; “Now mam, it won’t wobble anymore.”

Professional people were never complained about either. They knew what they were doing so if something went wrong it was obviously your own fault. If your dentist drilled through the roof of your mouth and stuck you to the ceiling, then that was your own fault for moving your head. If your doctor removed one of your kidneys when you were in fact suffering from an ingrown toe nail, then that was your fault too. You should have explained yourself properly.

If you were ever foolish enough to complain to your parents that you got a talking to from a rude garda then heaven help your innocence because that would surely lead to another dose of discomfort. No matter what reason you had for coming to the notice of An Garda Siochana, there was absolutely no excuse for upsetting one of them. That point would be emphasised with a kick up the backside.

If you didn’t perform well in school then there was a simple explanation for that too. Either you just weren’t making an effort or your brain had only a limited capacity in which case you got a pat on the head, “Poor boy, sure you’ll find something.” It had nothing to do with the teacher, even if he did smell of drink and had trouble standing up most days.

I know many genuine, decent teachers who try to do their best for their students and I have heard many stories from them about abuse they receive from parents. That might be about to get worse.

A new mechanism has come into force to deal with teachers who are accused of misconduct. The provisions allow any person to make a complaint about a registered teacher to the Teaching Council. This includes members of the public, employers and other teachers. The mechanism is similar to one in place for doctors by the Medical Council.

So now it will become easier for mammies to complain that the little darlings are not on the list of the top ten best performers or that they aren’t playing the lead role in the school play or that they are not on the first team in football. This won’t alter the fact that many of those particular kids will never be high achievers and the only top ten they will ever reach will be Interpol’s 10 Most Wanted.

Last February I launched this Blog without really knowing anything about blogging or where I was going with it. But today I reached a little milestone and so far I have had over five thousand visits to the site. I’m delighted with it. I have received some very positive feedback from many of you and I appreciate every comment, favourable or otherwise. At least some of you get a kick out of the nonsense that I write every week.

With that in mind I’ll plough on for another bit and see where that takes us. I don’t always know where I’m going and something usually pops into my head to drive me on. Like now, I just heard Nat King Cole singing on the radio and every time I hear him I am reminded of a guy called George Doherty. He loved to sing his songs and he had the voice to match.

George was a guy who worked with my father for years. My father was a small time building contractor and the two lads worked side by side for donkeys’ years. George was more than a work colleague he was also a family friend and was godfather to one of my sisters.

He worked previously in Irish Steel until he got a bit of metal in his eye and lost the sight in it and then he went to work with my father. He was an avid golfer and was very involved in the original golf club in Cobh and was involved in the development of the new course as well. In fact it was there that he died, while presumably out checking on the progress of the new club.

It was appropriate that he should have died in the place that he loved so much although he left us far too soon. He regularly comes into my mind.

I remember working on a roof with him back in the seventies. I used to give a hand during the school holidays. He was at one end of the roof and I was at the other. At some point during the morning I asked George what time it was. He stood up straight on the roof top and looked out over the harbour.

Then he licked his finger and stuck it up in the air to check the wind direction. Then he took a deep breath and filled his lungs with fresh air before he put his hand to his forehead to shield his eye from the sun and he looked up to the sky and examined the cloud movement. This went on for a bit and then he announced that it was a quarter to ten.

I thought this was very strange so later in the day I again asked him for the time. Again he went through the same ritual. Standing up, looking out over the harbour, licking the finger, taking a deep breath and putting his hand to the forehead and looking up to the sky to study the cloud movement. Four o’clock he said.

This went on for a few days and it was getting the better of me. I started to wear a watch to work with me and whenever I asked him the time he went through his ridiculous ritual and he was always spot on. Eventually I found myself on the side of the roof that George was working on and I discovered that if I stood in a certain position I could just about make out the clock on the Cathedral.

So he didn’t have super powers as it turned out but he was a super character and he is still missed.

 

 

There is a long standing issue of drug abuse in this country that doesn’t appear to be showing signs of resolving itself any time soon. Syringes being found in public places, addicts using heroin on the streets in daylight and rising crime resulting from the need for addicts to feed their habit are stories that feature regularly in the media. Cocaine is widely available and abuse of prescription drugs and poly drug use are serious problems.

As a young garda in Dublin in 1980 I encountered heroin for the first time and the carnage that’s associated with that particular drug. It was a major problem then and it remains a serious problem to this day. I have witnessed many initiatives over the years designed to combat the rising problem of drug abuse but unfortunately they have all come and gone with little apparent long term success.

Removing dealers from the streets provides temporary relief that only lasts for as long as it takes to have them replaced. Crop failure was one factor that had a definite impact on the drug scene and those effects were seen from the producer right down to the user on the street. But this too was intermittent and temporary. The sad reality is that there will always be a ready supply of illicit drugs as long as there is a demand for them.

If anything, the situation has become even more difficult to combat given the availability of drugs on the internet. The image of the sleazy drug dealer on the street corner doing his dealing in the dark or outside schools trying to snare new young customers is outdated. Drug dealers come in all shapes and sizes and can represent many professions just like their customers. Abuse of prescription drugs has also become a major issue.

Parents often find it difficult to believe that their child is using drugs because he or she would be described as just a regular kid. The common stereotype of the junkie who is horribly thin and strung out may be the parent’s image of a drug taker but the reality is that the majority are just regular kids.

There are many individuals and oganisations, both voluntary and statutory, who are making Trojan efforts trying to deal with those affected by addiction. There are many services offering counselling, rehab, detox facilities and more. They are sticking their fingers into the many holes in the dam but unfortunately they are fighting a losing battle and this is something that needs to be acknowledged.

The men and women of the Customs and An Garda Siochana who are at the coal face of drug enforcement are being put to the pin of their collar to make a serious dent in the drugs business. They have neither the necessary budgets nor the resources required to do anything else and if this is to change then a number of things have to happen.

Politicians and law enforcement agencies must admit and acknowledge that their efforts so far are not sufficient and that the drug situation is spiralling out of control. This is nothing to be ashamed of so let’s stop putting political spin on the ‘war on drugs’ and call it as it is. It’s a worldwide problem that no agency has of yet been able to resolve.

In America, a group of more than 1,000 campaigners, celebrities, law enforcement figures and politicians, including the likes of billionaire Warren Buffet and US former presidential hopeful Bernie Sanders, have called for a shift in global drug policy from emphasising criminalisation and punishment to health and human rights. Their open letter to UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon says the war on drugs has failed.

There needs to be a change in attitude to the way the users are supported. Consideration needs to be given to the idea of providing safe, clean, supervised injecting areas, with supports available for the users. These addicts are injecting in busy urban areas and children have been finding discarded needles. So let’s do something about it.

There needs to be an attempt to reduce the demand through a modern and properly resourced education module provided to our young people who are the potential users of the future. They must be educated to understand that the back street labs that are involved in this trade are unregulated, unhygienic and have absolutely no interest in quality control. They need to understand the danger associated with this.

There is no magic wand solution to this issue and the road will be long, demanding and expensive. This journey must begin with honesty. The authorities must be honest and accept that the problem is out of control and their efforts to date to tackle the issue have not been successful. They must be prepared to be in for the long haul. It’s not enough to just jump up and down with indignation every time we lose someone to an overdose.

The days of the uniformed garda or the doctor in the white coat advising our young people not to use drugs are long gone. We need a new approach and it has been suggested that we should assume that many ‘normal’ young people will inevitably experiment with drugs and that they expect to do so with minimal risk. Instead of targeting this group in an attempt to stop them from taking drugs, it is suggested that we adopt a different approach through ‘harm reduction drug education’.

So rather than placing the focus on reducing the number of drug users, maybe we should focus instead on making the actual drug user more informed in order to reduce harm and reduce drug abuse. It’s a kind of damage limitation if you like.

This is a bit more radical but maybe it’s worth considering.

 

I have a two year old grandson. His name is Cooper and we spend a lot of time together. We get along pretty well considering that we have such diverse taste. I like to watch the news and sport on the TV while he goes more for Peppa Pig, Paw Patrol and Ben and Holly. He controls the remote.

I have a preference for sitting in my recliner while he likes to spend his time on the floor. That’s ok too except that he expects me to share the floor with him while we play with building bricks, trains and other bits and pieces.

Playing with him on the floor isn’t the problem. It’s getting down there in the first place and then trying to get back up again that causes the grief. Creaking knees and a dodgy back make those simple tasks a little more complicated for a granddad but Cooper has absolutely no sympathy. He completely ignores my protests and insists that the floor is the best place to play.

In the fine weather he likes to go outside and play games that involve running around, falling on the grass and rolling over. He likes to be chased. Most of what he likes to do involves lots of movement. There doesn’t appear to be any games that involve sitting quietly or just remaining still for a bit.

At some point during the morning he gives in for a couple of hours and takes to the cot for a nap. That gives granddad an opportunity to take to the recliner for one as well and to prepare for the next onslaught.

After minding the small man for the day, I am worn out. It’s full on and extremely tiring but in a nice way. When the small face looks up at you and gives you a broad smile it seems to take away the pain and frees up the joints for another spot of running.

There is a reason that we have our kids when we are young. It is just so much more difficult when you get older to keep up with the demands of a tiny person. Especially when, in their eyes, you should be able to do everything they want to do and you should be able to do it at their pace.

A lot has changed since my parenting days and life was definitely different back then. There were fewer distractions for kids and there’s no doubt that we were living in simpler times. Technology alone in the last ten years has changed the lives of children dramatically. Whether or not it’s changed for better or worse is a redundant argument in many ways because the change is here to stay, like it or not.

For kids today, there’s no such thing now as waiting for anything. There is instant entertainment available at the push of a button on their electronic tablet or laptop. Their favourite cartoon can be called up at any time of the day or night.

Cooper has introduced me to a lot of new things over the last twelve months. Until then I had never heard of The Baby Channel, Peppa Pig or Paw Patrol but now I have become a bit of an expert.

The Baby Channel was a life saver during his first year while he suffered from reflux. During his many waking hours he got endless entertainment out of it. For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s a non- stop stream of programmes, without advertisements, for babies. Whoever designed it knows their business and kids love it.

There was a period when we thought he was addicted to it but he seems to have let it go without any trauma. There is also an educational side to the channel and our little guy has been making a great effort at counting and reciting nursery rhymes for some time as a result of it.

There’s another aspect of this modern parenting that takes a little getting used to and that is how to properly challenge the bad behaviour of the little monsters. Discipline is a lot different to what it was in my time. Use of the wooden spoon in this era of parenting will result in a complaint to the local police and probably result in a lengthy spell behind bars.

Life wouldn’t be much fun on your release either because you would be ostracised by the community for inflicting torture on a child. U.N.I.C.E.F, the H.S.E, Amnesty International and probably a host of other organisations would have you on their hit list. You would spend the rest of your days in shame, wearing a wig and dark glasses and afraid to leave the house.

The new style of correction involves much more negotiation and might seem a little alien to us but maybe it’s for the best. There are many who don’t appreciate the difference between a slap on the back of the hand and corporal punishment. There are lots of examples of cases where children have been subjected to unspeakable acts of cruelty so maybe this more gentle approach is a better plan.

Having been through the child minding bit with my own children I am very aware that the time we spend with them while they are little goes by quickly. You wake up one day and suddenly instead of asking for a bottle they’re looking for the keys of the car. Instead of tucking them into bed you’re dragging them out of it to go to work.

So for the short period that’s in it, I reckon it’s best to just get on with the chasing and enjoy it. The extra pills, anti-inflammatories, cod-liver oil, morphine and physio will probably help me to get through it.