Broken yellow lines on MY road–a thrilling Thursday
IN THIS WEEK’S DIARY, TADHG EVANS REFLECTS ON AN EVENTFUL FEW DAYS AS THE COUNCIL PAINTS BROKEN YELLOW LINES ON HIS VERY RURAL ROAD.
Wednesday, May 21
DEAR Diary – Today I made it onto national airwaves. A bit.
Joe Duffy’s Liveline is discussing the less-than-sisterly end of Dingle and Santa Barbara’s Sister City relationship, a story I featured in today’s Kerryman (May 20).
I suspected it was my piece that prompted Joe – I feel we’re on firstname terms now – to follow my lead and bring it to national attention and, predictably, I’m right.
He mentions LIVE ON AIR that he has a copy of The Kerryman in front of him and is looking at today’s story, my story.
This is the highlight of my lockdown to date.
Joe doesn’t actually say my name on air, but he has probably read my name at some point today. He might even be reading it right now as I listen.
This is a very important thing. Joe Duffy (or one of his researchers) has (probably) READ MY NAME. Has he ever read your name? Probably not.
I have enjoyed driving the nation’s conversation today, and I take to Twitter to remind everyone that I’m excellent. I share my article, and who gives it a re-Tweet only the official Liveline Twitter account.
My day was better than yours. Thursday, May 22
I live in a small townland about seven kilometres east of Dingle, and two kilometres from the main road to west Kerry’s capital. Very rural.
Imagine my excitement, then, when I found out that the council has painted broken yellow lines on both edges of the regional road passing my house.
It has given this small corner of Lios Póil something of an urban feel, and I drove our newly decorated road in bringing my grandfather to town this morning.
I haven’t been to town very often over the past two or three months – at one stage I went three weeks without leaving Lios Póil at all, probably a first for my lifetime – but every time I’ve been back in the last while, the place seems a little busier than the time before. Still deathly quiet compared to your typical summer’s day in Dingle, but certainly busier.
I’m not sure how I feel about that. Of course things were going to pick up when the restrictions were eased, but they were ratcheting up ever before that, if I’m honest.
Over the last few days, I’ve fallen into the trap myself of thinking all this is coming to an end. There are signs that normality’s returning, and I suppose that’s a good thing – but we wouldn’t want to be getting ahead of ourselves all the same.
Friday, May 23
I think I’m the only person in Ireland who has watched neither Normal People nor The Last Dance during lock-down yet.
If neither shows’ name rings a bell to you, ‘Normal People’ is that ‘shameful’ drama you’ve heard about on Liveline the afternoons following any episode.
And like any show that’s ‘shameful’, ‘depraved’, ‘obscene’ etcetera, nearly everyone’s watching it or secretly watching it.
‘ The Last Dance’ is a documentary about Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls basketball team of the 1990s. They were very good, and Michael Jordan was very good – that’s all you need to know.
I came very close to finally watching an episode tonight, but then I saw yet another eejit on Twitter sharing a video of Jordan getting emotional, in a proud way, about how he always demanded the best of the players around him.
He did this, sometimes, in very unpleasant ways, but apparently picking on someone is okay when you’re very good at chasing a ball around the place.
And others – such as this Twitter user – see fit to boost his ego still further by giving him another re-Tweet.
You know something – I think I’ll give it a miss for another while. I’m going to bed.
The weekend
I usually find the weekends harder than any other time of the week during lock-down. I may have to stay indoors most of the time on weekdays as well, but at least I have work to give me routine.
The weekends – nothing to do, no routine. They can be listless.
Thankfully, this weekend is different. The UK government have, yet again, put together a comedy masterclass for our enjoyment.
Boris Johnson’s chief advisor Dominic Cummings drove, during lockdown, from London to Durham AFTER his wife fell ill. London-to-Durham is roughly equivalent of someone in Lios Póil driving to Newry, County Down. Newry is not near Lios Póil.
Displaying a new-found respect for fatherly instincts, Boris Johnson accepts that Cummings acted in the interests of his four-year-old son; he was looking for childcare for his boy – childcare the family didn’t actually use after making the long journey north.
Not only is it not a sackable offence, Johnson reckons his chief advisor acted “responsibly, legally, and with integrity”.
“I think he followed the instincts of every father and every parent,” Brains of Britain added. So not only did Dominic do nothing wrong, he actually behaved more courageously than those who obeyed the rules. Dom’s a man of the people.
THE UK GOVERNMENT HAS, YET AGAIN, PUT TOGETHER A COMEDY MASTERCLASS FOR OUR ENJOYMENT