Grannymar

On Thursday morning I woke suddenly.  I quickly realised it was early, very, very early, because the sound of heavy sleeping reached me through two closed doors.  The uncomfortable feeling of a vice around my chest was familiar and I knew how to deal with it.  I used my spray and propped myself up on the pillows.  Lying back I listened as the world about me came to life.  A dog barking in the distance, a door & gate closing outside followed by a car engine turning over.

Waiting ten minutes I used the spray for the second time.  Slowly the tightness eased and as the veins opened I developed the usual headache - a good sign - the spray was working!  No need to call for help.  Staying quiet and calm was the correct method of dealing with this situation.  It would pass and I would travel home as planned, even if an hour or two later in the day.  I had my own set of keys, so all I had to do was lock up and go.

Elly came into the room when she got up and offered to bring me breakfast in bed, I accepted her offer.  She sat on the bed & chatted for a few minutes before going to work while I ate my cereal and took my tablets.  We hugged and said our farewells and off she went to an early meeting.

At 9am a wave of exhaustion swept over me, again a familiar feeling.  I decided to give in and snooze for an hour.  Sleep took over and the next thing I knew it was 2.30 in the afternoon.  I had actually slept for longer than I do at a stretch on any night.  I texted Elly to let her know I was still in Dublin and not traveling.  Again she was at a meeting so her reply was an acknowledgment of my message.

Elly arrived home at her normal time of 7pm.  I was back in bed again my then yawning my head off, and I saw the worry in her face when she came into the room.  “Why did you not tell me?” She asked, as did George an hour later when he came home.  Had I told them they would both have stayed home and missed a days work.  There was no need for that this time.  Save the days for when I really need help.

The strange thing about Thursday afternoon was I woke from a dream.  I seldom dream, or if I do, I don’t recall them.  This one was very vivid.  I was in Dundrum (Dublin).  I know Dundrum very well, one of my siblings lives there.  The Dundrum of my dreams bore no resemblance to the place where they live.

I was walking on a pavement along an underpass facing the oncoming traffic.  There were two cars approaching.  The first I saw in great detail.  It was black and small like a mini.  Inside were two white haired ladies traveling at speed, far too fast for the road ahead.  I had two folded supermarket bags in my hand and waved them in the ’slow down’ motion.  I vividly remember the driver turning to look at me like I was crazy.  I must have turned and followed the movement of the car because I saw it hit the pavement, somersault and when it had righted the roof was gone and two naked torsos were visible with torn clothes and plenty of blood.

I pulled my mobile from my pocket and called 999.

With that I woke up!

Over the past few days Steph wrote about the perils of drinking and driving. Alas the total number of road deaths in the south of Ireland for 2008 has now reached 276. All the TV and newspaper advertising is geared towards not drinking if you are going to drive a car.

Yesterday the Gardaí named three teenagers killed in a road crash in Tipperary on New Years Eve. They were young men aged 14, 16 and 17 all from the County. Two others, a 15-year-old boy and a 16 year-old-girl, were injured. They remain in a serious condition in hospital in Limerick. The five teenagers were travelling in a car at around 7.30pm near Nenagh. Gardaí said the crash happened when the car left the road, mounted a ditch and hit a tree.  The report did not say who the driver was. The oldest of the group was 17 years old and that is the legal age to learn to drive. This all made me think…..

Most young learner drivers practice in small low powered cars. They are, or should be accompanied by a qualified driver. The process involves learning the rules of the road, how to read road signs, speed limits and using the manual controls of the vehicle. So you learn how to signal, Parallel Park, reverse and three point turns and most important how to make an emergency stop. All this is very laudable and grand. Even when the person sits the test there are only two people in the car – the tester and the testee.

At no point that I am aware of, does the Highway Code cover driving a car full of giggling passengers. Does it tell you how the extra weight of passengers in the back seats or a heavy load in the boot can affect how a car moves when brakes are applied or when going around a bend? I think that part of the learning process should take place in a simulator that covers all weather and load conditions. Pilots use these type of simulators as part of their training so why not road drivers. Are there not more road deaths world wide than aircraft fatalities?

Here in Northern Ireland once a person has passed a written test and a practical one they graduate from ‘L’ plates to ‘R’ plates for six months. The ‘R’ is for restricted driving. With ‘R’ plates the driver may drive unaccompanied but must not exceed 45 miles per hour on any road. It may not prevent all deaths but it does help.

Red mum captured this picture last week of a crazy driver having her cereal whilst driving along the Quays in Dublin during morning rush hour traffic.

Then yesterday this arrives by email:

Driving to the office this morning on the M25 (UK) motorway, I looked over to my right and there was a woman in a brand new BMW doing 90 miles per hour with her face up close to her rear view mirror putting on her eyeliner!

I looked away for a couple of seconds and when I looked back she was halfway over in my lane still working on that makeup!

It scared me (and this coming from a bloke….) so much that I dropped my electric shaver, which knocked the bacon roll out of my other hand.

In all the confusion of trying to straighten up the car using my knees against the steering wheel, it knocked my mobile from my ear, which fell into the coffee between my legs, causing it to splash and burn BIG JIM AND THE TWINS, causing me to scream, which made me drop the cigarette out of my mouth, ruined my shirt and

DISCONNECTED AN IMPORTANT CALL!!!

Flaming Women Drivers!!!!!!!

So come on own up, which of my Toyboys was it

or print.

This little beauty appeared in the Business section of the Irish Independent on Thursday 6th March.

I may not have a degree in engineering or technology, but I try to use the few grey cells that I have. Growing up with red hair and freckles really toughens you for life and as my grandmother taught me many moons ago:

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me!

I won’t let it bother me, instead I will smile and remember a conversation the previous day.

On my journeys between Co Antrim and Dublin I always have a stop to stretch my legs and drink a coffee. Since the road now bypasses Carrickdale I make my stop at The OUTLET Banbridge. While there I made a friend for life! Christine Watson, Marketing Manager for the Centre and I were talking about their web-site. I suggested that she should think of starting a blog to interact and connect with customers and pointed her in the direction of beaut.ie. She was very impressed with their site and Bookmarked it right then and there.

Signing me up for their VIP Club, she needed some info, you know the usual stuff, name, email, etc. Then she asked what age bracket she would put me in, or rather she said ( Now sit up and LISTEN, this is important!!) “45-49 age group, would that be right?” I tried not to splutter and asked Christine to repeat the question, she did!

“45-49 age group, would that be right?” asked Christine.

This time I laughed heartily. “I’m sorry, are you younger than that?” asked a worried Christine.

“No, I am not younger than that” I laughed! “I will be 61 next Monday!”

The smile has not left my face since!

La Mon. Two words that send shivers down my back. I was seven months into my new life here in Northern Ireland. A challenge unfolding all around me, the discovery of people, places and the sharing of new love, and new life growing deep inside me.

Twelve people were killed and many more badly burned on 17 February 1978. The bomb turned La Mon House, a small country hotel, in the Castlereagh hills east of Belfast, into a raging inferno. The events surrounding that fateful evening will for ever be imprinted on the minds of the scores of people who escaped from the clutches of death. Some of those injured may well still carry scars and suffer physical pain to this day. Even those fortunate enough to walk away without a physical mark were haunted by the memories of that dreadful night.

It began as a Saturday night of celebration. It was a happy get-together for members of the Irish Collie Club and their friends. They had converged on the hotel from around the Province. They had been allocated a private function room known as the Peacock room.

The terrorists strapped their explosives to two cans of petrol and attached them to the security grille over the windows of the room. They then retreated under the cover of darkness. The massive explosion that resulted sent a sheet of burning petrol through the small function room, incinerating those in its path. In addition, the glass and materials from the explosion shredded the many helpless, innocent and unsuspecting victims. In addition to the many guests in the hotel that evening, there were in the region of 90 staff on the premises.

This was a time of hormonal overdrive for me, newly married, and six months pregnant, no wonder the details seem etched in my brain. There was also the fact that exactly I week later we were to attend the annual dinner for all the staff of the company where Jack worked. It was the quietest week of my life. Nobody wanted to broach the subject. We all worried about attending, yet none of us wanted to be responsible for cancelling the event.

The evening of the Dinner Dance arrived and with it, thick freezing fog. It was impossible to see much further than the nose of the car. We debated whether to cry off or not. I know Jack was worried about me and the safety of our growing baby. We often have bad weather around us and when we travel a few miles south in the direction of Belfast, discover a different climate altogether.

Jack never wanting to let people down decided we would set out and if we found it difficult, we could circle round and come home. The driving condition I hate most of all is fog, never mind freezing fog but I stayed stumb and agreed that we should make an effort to get there. Our destination was Clanbrassil House Hotel, A Georgian Terrace on the sea front at Holywood, Co Down. I think it has since been converted into apartments.

We set forth on our journey, heading for the M2, neither of us wanting to say a word. All concentration was focused on the road and searching for red tail lights ahead. The journey down the M2 southwards into Belfast is lovely on a bright day. On your right Belfast Castle is set into the hillside and peeping through the trees of the Cave Hill. While on the left is the sweep of Belfast Lough glinting in sunshine, forming a natural divide between County Antrim and County Down. Had the night been clear we would have been able to pick out the cluster of lights at Holywood.

That night there was no cluster of lights, we did make out red tail lights of a car in front and tucked well in behind it and followed at a safe speed and distance. Finally reaching the hotel I gave an enormous sigh of relief. I thanked God twice over, once for a safe journey and secondly because there were NO grilles on the windows. We were the first to arrive and Jack found me a comfortable corner and headed to get a warming drink for us. It was only then I realised that my teeth and hands were clenched.

Soon the other members of the party started to arrive and seeing Jack they relaxed. Everyone felt as we did, yet turned out more in support of each other than the desire to party and also not wanting to let terrorism win. We soon had the call to our table. Good food and wine warmed and relaxed everyone. Jack and I shared the good news of our forthcoming event. The band was excellent and we all danced to the wee small hours.

We had a representative over from Head Office, and between the weather that night, and the chat at the table during the meal, he realised the conditions that the staff and particularly those out on the road, had to contend with on a daily basis in Northern Ireland. To give him his due, he picked up the tab for the whole evening!

When the band finally packed up for the night and we said our Goodnights, we headed outside to the car. The fog had cleared and the sky was a mass of stars. Jack and I sang all the way home.

Who would credit the difference a week can make!

We have not officially started the Christmas break and already the Carnage on the roads has begun. The Irish Times starts the ball rolling with with the following piece :

Teenager killed, another seriously hurt in Tipperary crash

A teenager died and another was seriously injured in a crash in Co Tipperary this morning.

The single-vehicle crash happened at 8.05am on the Borrisoleigh Road near Templemore.

One of the men was taken to Nenagh General Hospital but was pronounced dead before arriving. The seriously injured man brought to Limerick Regional Hospital.

Gardaí closed the road, and an investigative team is at the scene. Gardaí are appealing for witnesses to contact Templemore Garda Station on 0504-32630.

Earlier a driver was killed in a two-car collision in Mullingar, Co Westmeath. The crash happened near the Covert at around 6am.

If you intend walking on a pavement, crossing a road or travelling in a car this Christmastide, think of your loved ones, travel carefully and safely. It is better to be late and safe, than never to arrive at all!

While reading Dario Sanchez’s post today I was reminded of the following story:

John-Joe Murphy went to a party and as usual has far too much to drink. His friends plead with him to let them take him home. He says NO — he only lives a few miles away.

About half a mile from the party, the Gardai pull him over. They check his license and ask him to get out of the car and walk in a straight line. Just as he starts, the Garda’s pocket radio blares out a notice of a robbery taking place in a house around the corner. The Gardai tell John-Joe to stay put, they’ll be right back and they run around the corner to the robbery. John-Joe waits and waits and finally decides to drive home. When he gets there, he tells his wife he is going to bed, and to tell anyone who might come looking for him that he has the flu and has been in bed all day.

A few hours later the police knock on the door. They ask if Mr. Murphy is there and his wife says yes. They ask to see him and she replies that he is in bed with the flu and has been there all day. The police still have his driver’s license. They ask to see his car and she asks why. They insist on seeing his car, so she takes them to the garage. She opens the door. There sitting in the garage is the squad car, with all its lights still flashing!