August 2017

Dream Job Quiet enough now today all the same.  Terrible close.  I probably didn’t need the tweed jacket and the geansai.  Minibus full of of throat singers in from Thurles after lunch on Monday.  Ate me out of house and home and finished off the pound cake.  I’ll have to do a big shop at the co-op.

I have a two young couples from Dublin staying down below in the holiday home for a fortnight  The rang that the telly was on the blink and wouldn’t play DVDs so I went over to fix it. I unplugged it all and plugged it back in and the damn thing wouldn’t work at all then.  And Ambrose away all this week!  So, now the little black and white from the bedroom is on top of the telly and plugged into the satellite and that seems to be sort of working.  No idea how Ambrose set the fecking thing up at all!

Anyway they seemed like a nice enough crowd until they started in asking for a second sponge for the sink.  I told them in no uncertain terms: one sponge and one J-cloth.  Just to keep things civilized.  The last time I left out two sponges we had terrible trouble – ended up with a commune of tantric psychedelia for two months – all sorts of going on and the lot of them wandering around naked at all hours with the curtains wide open.  Couldn’t be giving them a second sponge, would leads to all sorts of trouble.  One sponge and one J-cloth should be enough for anyone.  Any more just leads to all sorts of perversions.


Dream Job

Quiet enough few days all the same.  Busload of banjo players from Stockholm on Tuesday and every single one of them in the shop looking for Hula Hoops and Ribera.  Have ye never heard of Kit Kats, says I.  Stared at me like I had two heads.  Strangest thing.  Some fellah from Cape Town drove up on Thursday and wanted to shoot a movie about Cornish mobsters in exchange for backend action figure sales or something.  I told he’d have to write to the Arts Council.  That softened his cough for him!  Got a Cease and Desist letter that afternoon from some manufacturing crowd in Sweden called Ĥoøldgründgren Hüuts telling me I can’t use the “Disruptive Innovation in the pre-fab hut space” tag any more, that it’s theirs.  I talked to Tony Squires in town and he says they are chancing their arm and to not even reply.  He said his niece in Sligo bought one of their ready-to-assemble huts to keep the lawn mower in and the thing rotted away into blue goop after two months.  She wrote to them for a refund and they told her she should have bought the Roøtprøøffïng Kïð and the guarantee was voided.

Dream JobQuiet enough today, all the same.  Two Yanks in a puce-coloured Range Rover looking for Zero Zero L.A.  What? says I.  ZERO ZERO L A says the wife all slow and loud like I’m dense.  Then the husband repeats it.  (They both keep calling each other Whitney for some reason.)  Show it to me on the map, says I.  Of course they have no map and he hands me a phone the size of a portable telly with a map up on it.  There! says he.  Oola? says I.  You want to go to Oola?  Well you’re way off the mark.  How did you end up here?  We were following the GPS, says she.  That’s do it, says I.  Anyway I put them on the right road.

The young fellah of the Deasys came out in the afternoon to take a look at the septic tank.  Told me he’d just been in the Canaries on holidays.  Couldn’t get over how few canaries there were.  Never candidates for the astrophysics the Deasys.  Nice people though.