fruitless favours

Tags

bad friends, failed friendship, favours, friends, friendship, girls day

I am having one of those days, my beautiful red polka-dot mug broke, I burnt my toast and set of the smoke alarm, my font-book on my mac is acting up and the-bride-to-be rejected the favour she asked me to do.

Many weeks ago she asked me if I could design the pamphlets for the ceremony and when she sent me the list of songs and order of service that is exactly what I did. We had arranged to meet this morning and go through the pamphlet, make changes if needed so that she could then print and staple them later in the day.

Well, that didn’t happen. I received a text this morning letting me that her husband-to-be had already taken care of it and there was no need now for us to meet up. Basically telling me all my work was for naught, a fruitless favour on my part.

Now, I do understand that getting married is a stressful time but I am so annoyed and feel quite used. What is the point in asking someone to do something if you are going to change your mind at the last minute? These kind of fruitless favours make the person doing the favour feel irrelevant, that their time is not important, nor that their help is. Fruitless favours are a main ingredient to failed friendships.

So with this Saturday starting out on every bad note possible, I can only hope that lunch and the following “girls-day-out” event will change today’s melody, allowing me to enjoy the tune of “Happy Birthday” at a friends party tonight.

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chatting chicks

Tags

baking, cup cakes, cupcakes, dessert, food, friends, hen party, party, recipe, recipes, romantic notions

A friend of mine is getting married next week and even though I am , thankfully, not  a bridesmaid I have somehow been roped in to helping out. One of my jobs was to help out with her hens, a quite lingerie party, so  I baked some cup-cakes.
As the numbers were fewer than she thought our venue fell through so we ended up in a church-hall without wine. As there was plenty of fruit and cheese  the night out turned into a ‘lunch-eque’ gathering, all the chicks chatting and crumbling crackers while the bride-to-be unpacked  beautiful knickers and bras. This low-key event was exactly what the bride had wanted and that was the main goal.

It was very obvious that every hen in the room had a loving attitude towards the bride-to-be but somehow the festivities did fall a little flat. It may have been the sudden change of venue, or the non-atmospheric room, maybe it was the lack of music or that most of us didn’t really know each other but I couldn’t help but feel a little sad that this supposedly joyous event turned into a bit of a bland bash.After all aren’t celebrations meant to be filled with laughter and fun, not serious advice and friendly nods, aren’t you meant to get excited about the adventure that lies ahead?

But then maybe as a still seeking single I have too many romantic notions about how I think these things should be, or maybe a few cupcakes and crackers just don’t say “party” to me.

PS: The recipe for these delicious cupcakes couldn’t be any simpler. Heat the oven at 200 degrees. For 12 just mix 125g of butter/margerine with 125g of caster sugar. Add in 2 large eggs (I normally add an extra one for more fluff) and beat till nice and creamy. Then add 125g of self-raising flour into the mix (if you sieve the flour the batter becomes really smooth, and if you don’t have self-raising just add 1 tablespoon of backing powder). For a little extra smoothness and taste add 1 tablespoon of vanilla (or any other flavour) and 2 tablespoons of milk (I sometimes use yogurt it gives it a little extra cream). Then just fill your cupcake forms with equal amounts of batter and bake for 15-20 minutes until golden brown. For the icing mix 2 cups of powdered sugar (icing sugar) with 2 tabelspoons of butter /margerine, add in 2 tabelspoons of milk and 1/2 a tabelspoon of vanilla (or any other flavour). If you want to colour it just add as many drops of food-colouring as you like.  just make sure that the cupcakes are completely cold  before you ice them.

making mistakes

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bad decisions, editing, feelings, Franklin P. Jones, inner monologue, making msitakes, mistakes, photography, photos, quotes, thoughts, writing

I am currently editing a friends PhD and while I do feel a little bad that I am making her pages bleed with my bright orange ink I keep finding similar if not the same mistakes. Now I may need to explain that English is not her mother tongue and what she is writing is very interesting, just a few errors that need to be resolved.

Luckily these simple grammar or structure mistakes are  mostly quick and easy to fix, unlike the missteps we make in life. Making mistakes is a big part of life and one of the ways we learn, you could say that without the occasional blooper or blunder we’d never better ourselves and reach our goals

But this made me wonder about why we keep doing the same thing over and over again, seemingly never learning from our miscalculations, bad decisions and snafus. We all have that reoccurring issue that creeps on us leaving us in a situation or position we recognise but never change. The outcome leaves us baffled as it is an old friend, an unwanted one but not a stranger, a bedfellow we would rather steal the covers from and kick off the mattress.

So why is it that we can’t learn from some of our biggest mistakes  and just let history repeat itself, a record stuck on the same track or a marble stuck on a never-ending mobious curve. The answer seems to lie in our unconscious, instead of waiting for failure to happen we design it ourselves as a situation we know is less frightening and daunting then one we don’t don’t. Basically if we know we are kissing a frog we don’t have to wait for prince Charming to let us down.

And maybe we believe that if we can break the cycle we can finally move on, deceiving ourselves into thinking we have to past some test to qualify for happiness. If we succeed at the impossible what we want is within our reach

But maybe it’s time to take a different road or use  the scissors and cut that mobious loop, rewrite our inner monologue, edit our lives and try and be aware of our unconscious. But if we can’t do that at the very least we can recognise our errors and mark it down to experience. As the wonderful journalist and humorist Franklin P. Jones once said:

Experience is that marvelous thing that enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again.

wrong words

Tags

first word, literature, Mark Twain, samuel langhorne clemens, words, writing, wrong words

Writing is easy. All you have to o is cross out the wrong words.

This quote by Mark Twain hangs over my desk and every time my eyes flit over it I can’t help but smile. If only it were as simple as Mr Twain claims in these two little sentences.

Over the last few days I have been thinking more than typing, trying to figure out what it is I actually want to write. After all there are so many different forms, from fiction over fact. And with all the ideas in my head turning somersaults and competing for attention it is hard to figure out where to start.

So instead of crossing out wrong words my time is spent trying to figure out the first word, how to start, where to begin. But thankfully I still have few weeks left and hopefully some time in between class preparations and typing up module guides to try and figure out what the right words are.

And even if I don’t end up being as successful and revered as Mark Twain, or Samuel Langhorne Clemens as his mama called him, I may, at the very least, be happy with what I write, if I’m very lucky maybe others may enjoy it too. And if the stars align and I get the timing write, who knows I may still be published yet.

But for now I will be satisfied when I find a beginning and know which wrong words to cross out., not those of my students but the one my fingers find on my keyboard.

ukelele hooley

Tags

Dun Laoghaire, entertainment, festival, lifestyle, music, sunday, ukelele, ukelele hooley

Some words just make you smile and ukelele is one of them, hooley (Irish slang for party) is another. So what a perfect combination when you throw them both together. After all what could promise a better afternoon than a whole bunch of tiny instruments strumming under the sun?

So  on Sunday afternoon I met up with my American gal pal and after wandering around an antiques market and a spot of lunch we strolled down to the Peoples Park in Dun Laoghaire, just outside of Dublin.  As we passed the gates the unique sound of ukeleles sang out to us and we couldn’t help but smile.

Once a year the lovers of the tiny Hawaiian instrument invite everyone to a festival by the sea to celebrate the ukelele. Of course it is an interesting, colorful crowd that comes together to sing and dace along to the strumming of the guitars tiny cousin.

Like every year there are workshops and stalls, food and drink and f course musicians from around the world. This year the cute Les Poupees Gonflees (Inflatable Dolls)  came from France delighting us with Chansons and a ukelele twist. Minnie and the Illywackers  gave us swing, cabaret and some jazz  and the wonderful Janet Klein jetted over from LA to deliver her quirky speak-easy style ukelele music.

But for me the high-light was the duo turned trio Gus & Finn. These Scottish dudes, dressed in Motorhead t-shirts, lumbered onto the stage, their miniature ukeleles dwarfed in their big hands and played songs from the Ramones and other rock greats.

The only problem with the yearly Ukelele Hooley is that I’ll now have to wait for another whole year until it comes around again. But while I wait I can at the very least listen to some of my favorites on YouTube.

Film Review: What Maisie Knew

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Alexander Skarsgård, David Siegel, entertainment, Film Review, film review What Maisie Knew, Joanna Vanderham, Onata Aprile, Scott McGehee, Steve Coogan, What Maisie Knew

Although based on Henry James’ 1897 novel What Maisie Knew is a very modern story, one of divorce and children being the collateral damage.

Six-year-old Maisie (Onata Aprile) is the daughter of rock star mum Susanna (Julianne Moore) and art dealer dad Beale (Steve Coogan). The two big egos clash loudly, disregarding the presence of their daughter who finds peace with nanny Margo (Joanna Vanderham). Maisie spends her day peering around corners, listing to abusive shouting and avoiding being caught in the middle.

When her parents finally split the courts decide that Maisie is live with both parents and is chauffeured back and forth between them. Although both parents fight for sole custody it becomes obvious that Maisie is more of an inconvenience that anything else.

Bizarrely both parents decide the only option is to marry, philandering dad hooks up with the much younger nanny Margo and narcissist mum weds handsome bartender Lincoln (Alexander Skarsgård).

Bouncing between the two unlikely couples Maisie becomes more and more neglected by her parents and finds better, more loving replacements in her stepparents.

What Maisie Knew is a delicate film that lives for its tiny lead actress Onata Aprile. She is in every scene, peering out, watching the adults who dictate her world. We see the story from her point of view, the camera held low to the ground letting the viewer see the child’s perspective.

Both Moore and Coogen are good as the self-obsessed parents who believe they love their child but are unwilling to sacrifice their needs for hers.

Skarsgård breaks away from his normal roles and succeeds in being unusually vulnerable and naïve, his Swedish accent and extreme height adding too his charm as he plays with the little girl.

Scottish actress Vanderham is endearing and her attachment to Maisie as Margo feels real and very emotional. With her lilting accent and petit figure she is the perfect counterpart to Skarsgård.

What Maisie Knew may not be an exact replica of the book, but the story is told well and is beautifully filmed by directors Scott McGehee and David Siegel. The viewer gets pulled in and emotionally attacked to Maisies fate, always hoping that the tiny protagonist comes out unscathed.

Film review: We’re the Millers

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Emma Roberts, entertainment, film review: We’re the Millers, film reviews, Jason Sudeikis, Jennifer Aniston, Rawson Marshall Thurber, We’re the Millers, Will Poulter

Small time dealer David Clark (Jason Sudeikis) seems to be happy with his uneventful and meaningless life. But when he is beaten up by thugs and loses his bosses money he is forced into becoming a big-time drug smuggler.

In order to transport a massive stash of weed over the Mexican boarder David comes up with a ludicrous idea. He hires a monster of a campervan and hires a family. His motley crew of a ‘the Millers’ are neighbour and stripper Rose O’Reilly (Jennifer Aniston) as his wife, runaway Casey (Emma Roberts) his daughter and neighbour nerd Kenny (Will Poulter) as his son.

Of course nothing goes as planned and ‘the Millers’ end up on an adventure of a lifetime.

Sadly the script just doesn’t hold up and the crude innuendos and sexual crudeness is often just not funny. Aniston as stripper Rose is not believable; even though her body is incredible she just doesn’t have the dirty sexiness needed for the role. But thankfully her comedic talent saves her otherwise weak performance, as she does have good timing.

Sudeikis does have a certain charm but his performance is a little threadbare and messy. And it doesn’t help that his lines are too bland to really inspire any likeability.

The contrast between Roberts and Poulter couldn’t be bigger. Roberts is too “vanilla” to pull off her role as a hard-done-by teenager who hates the world and lives on the street. However British actor Poulter is quite good, he somehow manages to be sweet and vulnerable in the midst of all the chaos.

We’re the Millers is another film that cannot live up to its promise. Its weak screenplay, crudeness and unlikely story all jar. And while there are a few laugh its attempts to combine family sitcom and lewdness doesn’t work, making most scenes cringe-worthy and uncomfortable.

So if you are expecting something like director’s Rawson Marshall Thurber Dodgeball, you will be disappointed. We’re the Millers just isn’t very funny, too ‘over-the-top’ and juvenile.

sleep-robbing alarms

Tags

alarms, neighbours, sleep, sleeplessness

I was finally able to sleep last night, and what a long good sleep it was. The reason for my past sleepless nights has been an ongoing alarm across the road.

On Thursday afternoon it started, a high-pitched ringing sound that vibrates through the body. For some reason, unknown to me, the neighbours intruder alarm had triggered. Of course I thought it would soon be turned off but as the hours ticked along the shrill ringing started to grate on my nerves.

As night approached and all the noise of the day calmed down it amplified leaving me tossing and turning in my bed, trying to sleep but my ears just couldn’t tune the blaring out.  When Friday morning arrived I was vexed and annoyed, tired and not really myself. Since my neighbours obviously weren’t home, but I did knock just in case they were deaf, I called the alarm company to no avail. After several left messages and emails I decided it was time to take a different route so I called the Gardi, the Irish police.

But I didn’t find help here either. They told me that all they could do is check the property for any signs of intrusion but wouldn’t, couldn’t, turn the alarm off. The next step, suggested by the Gardi, was to call the Dublin City Council, but here too help was limited. They told me I could file a complaint for noise pollution but it would take  a minimum of seven days before they would, could, do anything and even so it didn’t mean the alarm would be shut off.

As the earsplitting noise was getting too much to bear and I couldn’t stand to be at home and wasn’t sleeping I tried to stay away from my home as much as possible. This made me even more annoyed as I had just dropped my New Zealand friend off at her new abode and finally had my home to myself.

But thankfully when I arrived home late last night he sleep-robbing alarm had finally been turned off. I couldn’t believe it and when I curled up in bed, my nerves gave a sigh of relief and after three sleepless nights I was able to sleep!

Fermanagh Onions

Tags

fermangah, Florenc Court, friends, Ireland, northern Island, photography, photos, travel

With my New Zealand friend still occupying my spare bed and my house becoming more and more cluttered we decided to take a trip up North to visit a mutual friend. She followed her heart up there a few years ago and now lives near the stunning lakes of County Fermanagh. With two big double bed guestrooms and an acre of land to call her own, her living situation couldn’t be more different than mine.

Arriving late we spent the evening enjoying wine and each others company, catching up until past three in the morning, or at least some of us did as Miss New Zealand and Mr Fermanagh fled the scene early on in the evening, each to the own beds and some sleep.

The following day was a mixture of sunshine and rain, but warm, so we took the car for a spin and visited Florence Court, a beautiful old estate just outside of Enniskillen. This stunning 18th century home and it’s lovely grounds is the perfect place for a little ramble and some fresh air. Of course I had my camera on my shoulder and took photos as we strolled around the park.

Towards the end of our little trip we wandered around the beautiful walled garden and bumped into the gardener who was tending to the vegetable patch. With the help of volunteers the garden grows fruit and vegetables for the local eateries, basically bring local produce onto the communities tables.

As I chatted to the gardener about his produce the old flirt in me came out to play. And even though I may not have gotten a phone number (he was way to old for me anyway)  I did go home with some fresh Fermanagh Onions!

stables

the chimneys have hearts on them

not used very often

cattle yard this way

a big milk-can

for hay

a big old tree

standing guard

the front door

the wheel from the old saw mill

up close

still turning

even closer

a handmade chair

inside a yard

open gate

take a seat

some climbing roses

low hanging apples…

… and cds

fragranced flowers

growing moss

the old head-gardeners home , now a holiday let

pink rose

walking under flowers

a tiny peat cottage, think dwarfs live here

a garden gargoyle

my Fermanagh onions

Film review: Lovelace

Tags

Amanda Seyfried, Chris North, deep throat, entertainment, film review Lovelace, film reviews, Hank Azaria, Jeffrey Friedman, Linda Lovelace, Linda Lovelace’s autobiography Ordeal, Lovelace, movies, Ordeal, Peter Sarsgaard, Rob Epstein, Sharon Stone

From naïve girl to porn superstar that is the story told in Lovelace. Based on 70s porn queen Linda Lovelace’s autobiography Ordeal this film shows her version of how she came to star in the infamous porn film Deep Throat

When Linda (Amanda Seyfried) meets Chuck Traynor (Peter Sarsgaard) her life changes from strict catholic upbringing to a free sexual life. However once married to pimp Chuck what once happened behind closed doors becomes a source of much needed income.

On seeing Linda’s legendary “sword-swallowing’ trick for the first time porn producer Jerry Samiano (Hank Azaria) and movie mogul Tony Romano (Chris North) are in awe and the idea for the porn-comedy Deep Throat is conceived. Linda becomes an overnight sensation, but not only does the film attract a lot of media attention it soon brings in a lot of money, for everyone except Linda.

Then a rewind tells the story from a different point of view, namely Linda’s. Her naïve charm and sexual liberty is all just facade. Physically and mentally abused by  Chuck Linda is forced into doing unspeakable acts, a sexual puppet to please men with her husband pulling the strings at gunpoint.

Trying desperately leave her husband and the life she sees panning out ahead of her,Linda seeks help from her mother (an unrecognisable Sharon Stone) only to be told to “obey her husband”.

Lovelace lives from its two main characters. Sarsgaaard is wonderful as the macho, drugged up Traynor and gives a multi-layered performance displaying greed, rage and fear of losing his “property”. But it is Seyfrieds raw emotions that really tell the story. She is charming, vulnerable and very real.

And thankfully directors Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman never lose focus on the story behind the story; only revealing emotions never intimate parts by cleverly using massive wigs and cutaways. With attention to detail the gritty feeling of the 70s porn world feels true and clever story telling pulls the viewer in.

However for a movie wanting to tell the truth Lovelace neglects to take a closer look at all perspectives. With Ordeal as the foundation of the film Linda’s personal accounts are taken at face value never looking closer into her pornographic past and ignoring conflicting accounts.

But the stellar performances of both Seyried and Sarsgaard make Lovelace well worth seeing. So if you are hoping for a little hardcore you will be disappointed as the story focuses on the pain behind a public perception not on public display.