Month: March 2017

I was walking down the main street in Midleton not so long ago when I heard the sound of Irish music. It seemed to be getting louder by the miniute. It was a Ceili tune and I noticed that other people were turning around like me, to see where it was coming from. The culprit was a small car with all the windows open and the music was being played at full throttle. It could be clearly heard on both sides of the street for a good distance in either direction.

The surprising thing was that the driver was not a young man by any stretch of the imagination. In his mind he probably thought that the good people of Midleton should be grateful to him for sharing his diddly dido music with the rest of us. It must have been blowing the head off him in the car and in all honesty, it was ridiculous.

I went out for a walk the other night and I met a lot of people who obviously had the same idea as I did. It was a still night down by the water front and a nice night to get some fresh air. As I headed in the walkway I heard a thumping base sound and I saw three cars parked side by side. The car in the middle had all the windows open and this repetitive thumping sound was filling the night air. The people sitting in the cars could not have been comfortable with that racket it was so loud. The fish were heading out the harbour for some peace and quiet.

I just don’t get why these guys think that we are interested in sharing their noise but maybe that’s the whole point. There is no thought process going on there. These people do what they want without having any consideration for anyone else.  It doesn’t enter their minds that maybe, just maybe, their contribution to the environment is not to everybody’s liking. It’s like the drunk guys that make their way home from the pub in the early hours of the morning and carry on as if it is the middle of the day. They forget how to talk and instead they have to shout to each other with no regard for anyone else who might be trying to sleep.

I remember when I worked in Blarney many years ago, I used to enjoy watching the American tourists walking to and from Blarney Castle. They would always walk in single file because the footpaths were so narrow and they rarely walked alone so there would nearly always be a little trail of them. And for some strange reason, the guy at the front of the line would always try to have a conversation with the guy at the back.

So, this shouting competition would start and the entire village would be forced to listen to their conversation whether they wanted to or not. I could never understand why the guys who wanted to talk to each other just couldn’t get a bit closer.

Noise is all around us as part of our day-to-day lives. There’s no shortage of the stuff so why we have to create more of it is beyond me. My mother -in-law is ninety-eight and she is very deaf and she regularly complains about that fact. There is a part of me that is a little envious of her sometimes.

We have to live with the daily noise from cars, planes, trucks, industrial manufacturing, machinery, industries and factories. The countryside doesn’t escape either with noise from agricultural machinery, thrashers, tractors, harvesters and animals. Households produce noise from pressure cookers, washing machines, mixer-grinders, air conditioners and vacuum cleaners. Electrical devices like radios, transistors, TVs, musical instruments, telephones, and loudspeakers are also sources of noise. Banging of doors, crying kids, arguments, house renovations, kids playing also contribute. There’s no escape.

People visiting Cobh will often comment about the bells in the Cathedral being noisy when they ring out the time. But local people will more than likely tell you that they don’t even hear them. Similarly, when I first went to live in Cyprus I used to get startled by the Muslim call to prayer. Loudspeakers from the various mosques will blast out this call to prayer for the Muslim community five times a day. You can’t miss it. But again, after living with it for a while, you don’t take too much notice of it. But some people are a bit more sensitive to noise than others.

In Baddow, Essex in the UK, neighbours had a falling out over noise and it became such an issue that it and ended up in court. One neighbour was hoping to get an order to prevent the other from having a pond filtration system turned on all day. She said the noise from the water feature on the pond was ruining their lives. The noise was caused by water that runs from a hose into a small pond which was twenty-five metres away from the garden fence.

An environmental protection officer from the local council visited the site and he reported that the noise from the pipe was found to be around 40 decibels, which is the same level as a refrigerator or quiet speech. The magistrate found that the neighbour was simply oversensitive to the issue and ordered her to pay costs.

If the noise of a fridge is going to be a problem for this lady, then I would strongly advise her to stay away from here and it would probably be a good idea for her not to live near a mosque either. She should be careful about going to Midleton on certain days too, unless she’s a fan of Irish Ceili music.

 

 

WikiLeaks have told us that the CIA might be keeping an eye on us through our Samsung TV sets. For some reason that doesn’t surprise me and we all know that the internet is being monitored anyway so should we be worried about this latest revelation?

For most of us, I would imagine, our use of the Internet is limited to posting some useless nonsense on social media, sending a few emails or searching for a flight and an apartment when we want to go on a holiday. The most serious offence we’re likely to commit online is a typing error after we’ve had a glass of wine too many.

There are others though, who use the Internet for more sinister objectives like terrorism and crime. Nutters can spread their messages of hate across the globe with the push of a button and they can transfer funds, buy weapons and direct their evil empires from a mobile phone with an Internet connection. Lap top computers and phones are the tools of the trade now in the criminal underworld.  

It’s for that very reason that there are people who are making careers out of monitoring what is travelling back and forth on the Internet. Police forces, the military and other government agencies have the authority to monitor that traffic when they think it’s necessary for the security of the State. There are some people who have an issue with that but not me. I couldn’t care less for the simple reason that what I do on the Internet, or the phone, is of little interest to me so I can’t imagine anyone else having the slightest interest in any of it.

On the other hand, there is a lot of interest in the comings and goings of those who inhabit the criminal underworld. I’m sure the activities of Jihadi Jerry and his terrorist buddies are of interest to certain organisations and if, by sacrificing my bit of electronic privacy, I can somehow make a little contribution towards making life a bit more complicated for these guys, then I’m all for it. Work away guys and monitor me to your hearts content. 

Internet providers and mobile phone companies often work with the police to identify who was using a particular device, where it was being used and when. That’s ok too as far as I’ concerned and I’m not going to lose a wink of sleep over some agency knowing that I was in Tom Kelly’s having a pint at 4pm on Friday.

However, there are those who do have an issue with this invasion of privacy and they see it as breach of their civil rights. They argue that this is the first step on the slippery slope to the erosion of the freedom of speech and the beginnings of a secret state. They object to the fact that the gardai can enter your home, plant a video camera or recording device in your living room, and leave it there for three months.

They can break in again to remove the device, without you ever knowing they were there and they can put a tracking device on your vehicle and monitor your movements. The Defence Forces can intercept your emails, and tap your phone. It’s all governed by legislation, and it is intended only to combat serious crime and to protect the security of the state.

If you weren’t aware of this then don’t be too surprised because it’s not something that is generally advertised. The very nature of this type of work requires a certain degree of secrecy. There wouldn’t be much point in telling Jihadi Jerry what’s going on and that he is possibly being eavesdropped on by the CIA. So, despite the fact that these powers are invasive, details on their usage are fairly sketchy and this doesn’t sit well with some people.

Gardaí and the Defence Forces can do all this stuff and they can keep track of your movements. I knew some guys that were involved in this line of work and I was told that they were so good that they could practically get into your house at night, brush your teeth and leave again without you being any the wiser. So if you should happen to be on a list for this treatment, you’re not going to know anything about it unless someone tells you. That’s fine with me as long as they tidy up on the way out.

High Court Judge Brian McGovern was appointed last year to oversee the use of surveillance in our jurisdiction. According to a report in the Sunday Times, between August 2015 and August 2016, gardai were permitted to use the legislation on 100 occasions and were refused on 12 occasions. He said he believed that, because of this, the gardai had gathered significant intelligence to prosecute or prevent serious crime.

I was curious to know what can be learned about me on the Internet so I did a little research and I contacted a friend of mine, Avril Ronan in Trend Micro. They are an internet security company on the Model Farm Road and she introduced me to an expert in this field. After talking to him, I am now totally paranoid. It is scary stuff.

Basically, the miniute you turn on the computer you a are a marked man and sneaky people can tell the colour of your underwear and what you’re cooking for dinner.

If you knew what people can find out about you from cyber space, you would take your lap top and your phone and throw them into the Lee. I don’t worry about the good guys but there are plenty of bad individuals too who want to invade your privacy so take care.  You have been warned.

I came across a story in the Irish Examiner recently that had me a little perplexed. It concerned an incident that took place in Ennis District Court when Judge Patrick Durcan said that a trainee accountant told “a pack of lies and perjured himself” after giving sworn evidence that he did not receive a Garda fixed charge penalty notice for speeding in the post.

The accountant, Mr Sutton, was detected speeding on a motorway. After Judge Durcan refused to accept Mr Sutton’s claim that he never received the fixed charge notice, he convicted him, fined him €750 and banned him from driving for one year. Mr Sutton will also get five penalty points on his licence as a result of the conviction.

Judge Durcan also requested the prosecuting garda inspector to refer Mr Sutton’s evidence to the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP) “because it is very obvious to me that a further offence has been committed in this court today.”

He said: “The sooner the State takes on board people coming into this court suited and booted and looking the part and yet like a nut, they are split and cracked wide open when pressure is applied. I am appalled that someone who is an educated person, who has every opportunity in life and is on the road to becoming an accountant came in here and told a pack of lies and perjured himself. There is nothing as appalling as a liar — somebody who comes in here and perjures himself and tries to get out of an offence of this nature.”

Judge Durcan said that in evidence, Mr Sutton “persisted in the lies when cross-examined by Sgt Molloy.” Mr Sutton was one of two motorists Judge Durcan banned from driving for one year after not accepting evidence that they didn’t receive the fixed charge penalty notice in the post. Judge Durcan’s new “get tough” stance when not accepting evidence that motorists did not receive their notice in the post follows the judge last month in court stating that his courtroom was “stinking of perjury”.

On the one hand, it’s refreshing to hear a judge getting a little bit miffed at being lied to in a court and it’s reassuring to see him taking a stand against someone, he believes, is telling lies under oath. In fact, there are many who would say that it’s about time. On the other hand, I find it incredible that he seems to be surprised. He sounds as if this is the first time that he has come across a defendant in a court case that has deliberately misled the court.

Having spent over thirty-five years as a member of An Garda Siochana I would suggest that the number of defendants in a District Court who tell lies would far outweigh the number who tell the truth. Criminals constantly lie about having committed a crime or about being anywhere near the scene of the crime and they lie about who was with them at the time. When they’re caught with stolen property they will deny that it’s theirs and they will swear on a mountain of bibles that they never saw it before. Most of them wouldn’t admit to being alive if they thought it would get them off. Telling lies is what they do.

Before they are sentenced many of them will offer further lies in mitigation. They will tell the judge that they have reformed and that they are on the road to recovery. They will swear that they have kicked the demon drink and drugs into touch and they have completely turned their lives around and will vow never to offend again. Basically, they will say whatever it takes to get off. Judges in the District Courts across the country hear this, week in and week out. They will regularly see the same people in front of them repeating the same promises only to see them broken time after time.

So it sounds strange to me that a judge is making an issue of perjury at this point in time. You can witness the most outrageous lies in any court house on any day of the week. Those who live outside the law consider the legal system to be a game, a game that allows defendants to use all means at their disposal to avoid being convicted. They won’t lose a wink of sleep over lying in court.

Witnesses often tell untruths when giving evidence too but more often than not, it is unintentional. Many people can have different interpretations of the same event and each will genuinely believe that their account is the most accurate. If you ask ten people to describe the same incident you will find several versions that bear little comparison to each other, simply because they had a different perspective of the event. That is understandable.

Perjury is a horse of a different colour and is a criminal act. It occurs when a person lies or makes statements that are not truthful while under oath.  Perjury can lead to the miscarriage of justice and it can corrupt the legal process but it is difficult to prove. Even in the family law courts, people routinely alter the facts in relation to their assets and their income, in order to influence the outcome of child support, alimony or the distribution of assets.

So, the discovery that someone has been telling porkies in court shouldn’t come as any great surprise to anyone involved in the justice system. Perhaps what made this incident warrant more interest than normal is the fact that the defendant in this case was a young professional man with the prospect of becoming a respected member of the community. Perhaps the lies from the mouths of the great unwashed don’t have the same impact.

 

 

Myra Swords lives independently, because that’s how she wants it. She’s always on the move. She’s been to Australia seven or eight times in the last few years and she has just renewed her passport. She is hoping to visit a relative in Scotland soon and she’s a regular visitor to Clonea, in Dungarvan, during the summer where she stays in a mobile home with her daughter. She will go anywhere at the drop of a hat.

You might well ask what makes this so noteworthy? Well, Myra Swords will be ninety eight years old this week. Her hearing and her sight might be failing but her mind is still razor sharp. She takes a keen interest in current affairs and is quick to voice her opinion on any subject. She knows the birthdays of her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren by heart, and there are plenty of them.

There can’t be too many people alive today who can remember what it was like to be living in England during the Second World War. There can be fewer still who can recount with clarity the fear and anxiety of the nightly raids. People taking cover in air raid shelters and waking up to find their homes blown to bits.

Myra is originally from Kilmore Quay in Wexford and she was just eighteen years old when she got the Ferry to Liverpool in 1938.  Times were difficult for the Irish back then but must have been even more so for a young girl from Kilmore Quay who had probably never left the village before then.

As the summer of 1939 approached, air raid shelters had been built and gas masks and identity cards had been issued along with ration cards.  These items had to be carried everywhere.

After war was declared, Myra said, they would often be asleep at night but once the air raid siren sounded they would jump out of bed and grab their clothes and run to the nearest shelter.  The noise during the raids was frightening and at times they thought the bombs were falling directly on top of them. 

She recalls that the morale of the people was outstanding.  She never heard anyone scream, cry or panic during those nights.  In the air-raid shelters everyone shared what little they had, sandwiches, tea, cakes and they sang songs to pass away the nights. German planes came over each night when darkness fell and dropped their bombs while anti- aircraft guns, positioned all along the river Mersey, worked hard to intercept them.  Huge search-lights scanned the skies and sometimes planes fought aerial battles and some fell to the ground.

They would leave the shelters in the morning not knowing what they were going to find. They were almost afraid to check if their homes were still standing.  They constantly feared for their relatives and friends and worried about how others had survived the raids.

Myra remembers how everyone carried on with life. They would leave the shelter at dawn, grab a quick breakfast and run for the bus to work. Nobody made lack of sleep or air raids an excuse to miss  a day at work.  No one in her firm ever missed a day even though they went through the same routine, night after night. They came home from work in the evening, had a meal and went off to bed until the siren went off.

Trying to get a bus in the mornings was also a problem because the usual bus routes were regularly bombed overnight which would mean constant delays, diversions and detours were the order of the day.

During Christmas week in 1940, the air raids persisted relentlessly.  Myra was leaving work one evening as darkness began to fall when she heard the planes approaching. As soon as the siren sounded all traffic stopped and everyone took to the shelters.  She remained there until the dawn, and when she left it she saw shop windows blown out and sheets of glass and timber strewn all over the streets. Buildings lay collapsed in heaps of rubble, fires burning everywhere, ambulances with their sirens howling as they delivered the wounded to hospitals. 

After another night of fierce bombing she emerged from the shelter and as usual, got the bus to work.  She saw that most of the shops and houses along the route were severely damaged and some of them were still burning.  When she arrived at work she discovered that the offices where she worked had been demolished.

She remembers hundreds of tinned goods being dug out of the rubble.  It was permitted to sell salvaged goods because of the enormous demand even though most of the tins were damaged.  The labels had also been burned or washed off, so the same price was put on each tin and it was a lottery as to whether it was a tin of fruit or a tin of salmon you got.

One night in particular she hadn’t time to get to the shelter before the bombing started. She was sitting in her cousins’ house when she heard a loud whistling which she instinctively knew was a bomb. She held her breath, closed her eyes and offered a prayer. The bomb landed nearby and the explosion blew in her doors and windows.  Myra was thrown from the chair as the house filled with soot and dust. It was a terrifying experience which became a nightly occurrence.

She survived it all and continues to enjoy a good quality of life in Cobh, as she heads towards the century mark. We hear of so many young people dying these days that it’s encouraging to know that there are some positive stories out there too and that not all the good die young. Myra is living proof of that.