Well I’m sitting here in Cork airport that is – in my ways reminiscent of T3 at Heathrow. Noisy, loud crowded, and understaffed by staff; who, with the exception of the guy who spotted my usual “carry coffee” dilemma and carried it; look as if the would rather be at a funeral than here.
Cork itself is certainly not my favourite place, although I will say that the people are practically friendly – despite their expressions collectively not enforcing this. However when I have come to one of the many corners with no kerb ramp (or a poor excuse for one); if I made an attempt to get up/down invariably a gruff very aged man with food stains on his shirt– who looks too weak or derelict to lift anything, will skilfully pull/push me accordingly, all the while muttering something in Gaelic. Then with a rough but kindly meant pat on the shoulder and an “Aye Sir, Good luck to ya” they once again meld into the colourless stonework.
Yes I did say sir. Thanks to my number 2 haircut I seem to be getting called Sir at least in old Ireland. People have mistaken me for a male – despite a pink shirt and earrings ?. However to “the continent’s” credit – as a rule – once they work out my gender out – I am generally Ma’am. That’s a bit ironic given the extent to which I had stealed myself in anticapationn of the inslaught of “Lovey” et al. Oh well no complaints!
I met a bloke on Washington Street Cork after a particularly trying series of non ramps and raised side kerbing. Somewhere in his 40’s complete with nose ring, enlarged earring, denim jacket and bright purple sports chair with – I was to discover and jealously admire – REAL shock absorbers. He was an import from London and a para, after a work related accident 5 years ago as a result of which he retired with a compo payout. I admire anyone who can be as bold and forthcoming.
He told me that he had moved to Cork because; at least in his experience better than London. This is a bit of worry but no doubt time will tell. In fact upon learning that I am indeed an Aussie, he proceeded to tell me that when he was recovering from his accident the staff in the English hospital sat him down in all seriousness and told him to pull out all stops in order to move as quickly as possible to one of four countries; these being, Australia, New Zealand, Germany or Florida I think it was. Anywhere but England it seems.
Just my luck! Well we’ll see.
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- A card carrying bone fide
- all about the paradigm
- what was lost