Disruptive Innovation in the pre-fab hut space


Dream JobWarm enough today now all the same.  Got very close in the afternoon.  I had to take the cardigan off.  Busy enough, mind you.  Busload of young banjo players from Carrick-on-Suir and then, would you believe it, five minutes later, a busload of accordion-players from Carrick-on-Shannon and then a busload of Melodion players from Sikinos.  The racket they made!  Marvelous version of Por Aul Dicey Riley they all did!  Gave them a great appetite all the same.  The only things left in the shop when they were gone were two chamomile and gooseberry teabags and a Club Milk that looked like someone had slept on it.  I’ll have to do a big shop in the morning now to restock.

Ambrose has taken this whole “Futurizing the now building a better tomorrow today!” thing very seriously.  He comes up to me after they’ve all gone.  Says he has a venture for us.   Do you now? says I.  I do, says he, Celbridge Analytica, he announces, and holds up this piece of headed stationery.  What’s that? says I. a sex toy shop? I couldn’t be having any truck with the likes of that!  No, no, says he.  Data mining, says he.  What, like with computers and internets and the like? says I.  Not at all, this is artesenal, says he.  Go on so, says I.  Well, says he, we follow people around the Spar and see what they buy and what they pick up but don’t end up buying and then we put flyers through their letterboxes depending on what we notice.  Isn’t that a bit creepy? says I.  Àh sure they’re all living out loud in this town these days you have to get with it, says he.  You have to thrive to survive, says he.

So Ambrose will be in the Spar all week following people around and I’ll be one me own here in the hut.  good thing the weather will be miserable.  We shouldn’t be too busy.

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Terrible quiet now that it is off season but sure I come up to the hut anyway to listen to Radio 4 and watch the wind and do the crossword.  No rain today so took the opportunity to clean the little gutters that were full of moss and, for some reason I can’t quite fathom, Skittles.  Maybe the birds do be eating them?

Dream Job

Anyway I had a coupon for this crowd of innovative disruptors or disruptive innovators or whatever you call it in Sligo that said they could increase throughflow at the Cliff Experience by 80% and after the coupon it only cost 65 Euro so I gave it a lash and filled out their stupid questionnaire form online and sent it off.

 

So this morning this envelope arrives and with this feckin perspex sign in it.  Apparently I am to put this sign up where my whole “team’ can see it.  I could got new shoes with that 65 Euro.  I suppose I’ll put it up in the shop, that’s where most people will see it.

 

 

Dream JobWarm enough today now all the same.  Quiet though but sure that’s to be expected now that the tourist season is over.  Still and all had a minibus full of water polo players from Bremen on Monday.  Spoke very good English but did not like the Kit Kats at all, said they were stale.  I tried one myself and they were right but I didn’t let on.  I’ll have to get onto Paschal at the Co-op about that.  They were desperate to try crubeens but I had to tell them I had none in the snack bar

Ambrose is back from America.  Went over to visit Cidney for a few weeks in the Hamptons and sure doesn’t he arrive back with her in tow.  I have no idea what is going on.  She barely said two words to me.  The pair of them are holed up below in the unfinished holiday home.  No idea what the plan is and he bites my head off every time I ask.

Still things will be quiet enough now til the Crow Impersonating Festival in October.

IMG_1548.JPGhad a few inquiries from readers about my solutionizing of the television problem in the holiday home down below so here is the proof of my ingenuity.  Ambrose says he has no idea what I did and it is a miracle I didn’t burn the house down.  I remarked that maybe the next time one of the tellys in one of the holidays homes gets banjaxed, maybe he won’t be off gallivanting in America and he can fix it himself so there will be no problem.  I am not sure if he is talking to me now.

 

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.

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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.

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Quiet enough over the weekend all the same now, mind you. A couple of Moroccan birdwatchers on bikes and a busload of camogie players from Crossmaglen again curiously enough. I never thought of Crossmaglen as a camogie kind of town.  Nice bunch and it looks like they left a six pack of toilet tolls in the Ladies though one of the did write Up Tipp on the back on one of the doors.  I’ll get Ambrose to clean that when he gets back from Lourdes.

New fellah from the coop delivered the kit kats and left them at the door sitting in the sun so I have to discount them.  Feckin eejit!  Con Tim Pat Sullivan from out the road dropped in and asked me if he could count on my vote for county council.  Started his own party he has: The Ogham Party.  Has little badges and all. Got them made on the internet. Sure I might start me own party says I.  He laughed but I don’t think he saw the humour of it.  Apparently he is running on the pothole issue: he wants to install new ones cos the tourists are driving too fast and missing the natural beauty. More like missing the sign for his pick your own strawberries ripoff.  Of course I said nothing.  He’d never forgive me.  Always great ones for a grudge, them same Sullivans from out the road.

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