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Au revoir, Madame


She has been my boss for the last nine years.  A great boss. Not a micro-manager, but an enabler. And always available to back you up, when some corporate muscle was needed.
The reason why the Mistake Factory was bearable is the fact that I have a great team, and that I reported directly to a great manager.

Except that on 6 December, “Madame” became my ex-manager.

The higher echelons of the Mistake Factory decided that she would be a perfect fit for Operation Transformation (from employed to unemployed).

Six months down the line, a couple of cells in a spreadsheet will look not quite right. Alarm bells will be rung. Stakeholders will be summoned. Corporate hot air tanks will be readied for yet another deep dive. Black belts and kimonos will fill a conference room for some serious kaizen extravaganza of gourmet sandwiches and insipid ideas, hot coffee and cold logic.

People will wonder why those couple of cells in the spreadsheet do not look quite right. Not quite right at all.

They will by then have forgotten that Evelyne is gone. That she is no longer doing the nurturing that makes happy cells in a spreadsheet.

Carlos meanwhile is contemplating his impending colonoscopy (9 days to go)



Keep your pants on Met Eireann…
It’s January after all. Temperatures between 2 degrees (Celsius…) and minus 1 degree do not warrant getting your knickers in a twist.
I am getting really tired of this sensationalist-scare-mongering-we’ve-got-fuck-all-better-to-do weather forecasting…

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Orange warning



Glitter, all the way.

Sparkly dresses and uncomfortable shoes aplenty, it must be Christmas in Dublin!

Mrs mememe2U and I celebrated our 12th anniversary by going for an Indian in Dun Laoghaire and then Darting it into town (1 stop in Blackrock) for Jerry Fish and the Electric Sideshow.

It seemed appropriate since I proposed to her at a Jerry Fish concert more than 12 years ago.

And no, it was nothing to do with the fact that she was 6 months pregnant and I had caught her dad polishing his 12-gauge shotgun. It was the magic of the moment that prompted me to pop the question.

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Glitter belles, glitter belles…



Tonight, I had the East Pier to myself.
Which was nice.

Because I was the only lunatic to venture into the bitterly cold horizontal rain.
Which wasn’t nice.

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Elbow room



Not just an idiomatic expression.

My underwear does need changing.

Laura-Lucy, you big lunatic…










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Shit scared



Morning scene.

Reading-Messing-Breakfasting-Calpoling-Rushing-Dressing-School bag packing-Procrastinating-Stressing-Photographing

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Business as usual



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Love is in the air