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Terminus

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Last 7.40AM dart from Salthill to Kilbarrack.

Over the past five years, Luca and I have:

– travelled thousands of miles in varying degrees of overcrowdedness
– received new strains of the lurgy from half of our co-commuters
– and passed it on to the other half
– inhaled dozens of farts
– produced a few (mostly Luca – and me the morning after a Big Nose Club meeting)
– paid scary amounts of money for the privilege of travelling on the most-expensive-per-mile commuter train in Europe (I was particularly delighted that time when the price of my weekly ticket increased by 29% in one go)
– had three altercations. Well me. There was the “we’ll-have-a-vote-and-see-if-the-others-want-the-window-open-oh-see-no-they-don’t-either” stand-off. There was the “I-value-the-comfort-of-my-arse-more-than-the-well-being-of-your-designer-handbag” episode. And there was the “have-a-kleenex-no-i-insist-cause-if-you-loudly-snort-your-nasal-phlegm-one-more-time-i’ll-headbutt-you” row.
–  also had dozens of laughs and met some of the friendliest commuters in the world (by commuting standards)

And I will miss all of this.

At least I got a 75 page photobook out of it, to remember the good old days.

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If you close your eyes really really tight.

It’s not happening.

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Monday morning

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Ghost of Customer Service Future

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The Irish Rail unions have successfully managed to derail plans by the company to introduce Dart services every 10 minutes at peak time.

At least, in a world otherwise choked by political correctness, it is good to know that the Dart drivers could not give a rat’s arse about the user’s experience. They are perfectly transparent and unapologetic about it.

Good on them.
Viva la revolucion brothers (and sister)

May you all come back in your next life as sheep piled up in a lorry on a transcontinental journey to the abattoir. 

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Luca

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Twelve and a bit.
With the faintest shadow of a hint of the beginning of a bit of fluff on the upper lip.
Trying sometimes to give lip.
Try it, my fluffy arse.
Still very much a boy.
It’s really nice to see you grow. Without maturing all that much.
I love the way your voice sometimes drops half an octave mid-question.
A question that is still usually centered around pandemics, or the criteria for the age rating of films, or radiation and its effects, or special effects (CGI versus old school stunts and explosions).
Or the discussions around geometry lately.
I love our banana challenge every morning on the way to school (hold the 2 bananas in the hand and guess the price).
I love the fact that I usually win.
I don’t even hate the commute. Our time together.
I will miss it.
I think.

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Feel the

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Me fluffy arse…

Thanks Iarnrod Eireann for another fun trip.

You’ve upped your game again.

What could be more fun that being squashed in a packed, old, smelly train with hundreds of grumpy commuters?

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I’ll tell you what, what don’t you get them all to get off at Connolly and join the hundreds of grumpy commuters already crammed into another packed, old, smelly train?

Bridge strike?
Bridge strike me arse.

Them bridges, they must have a fierce pugnacious union…

Well, at least I’m not the one who stepped skidded into a creamy one between one packed, old, smelly train and another packed, old and now smellier train…

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Kilbarrack – There is a light at the start of the tunnel

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The two victims of the latest Sleeping Gas attack on the Dart this morning…

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Tranquilizer Dart

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