dublin, essential parenting implements, funny, humour, I'd be tempted to admitting to being superstitious but I prefer not to say it aloud, ireland, one shaggin number away from a million, parenting

Democracy at work

cof
It didn’t start well.

Some petty consular agent with a very different understanding of the French language to mine was going to deny me my civic rights. No way Jose!
Aux armes citoyens! My (civic) Liberty shall not be denied, I demand my Equality. But you can keep your Fraternity. I don’t want you as a brother, sister!
I was redirected to the Service Contentieux (you know you are in a French embassy when the complaints department is as big as the passport office) but knew I would get the same misinterpretation as to what constitutes a valid form of identity. My Irish driver’s licence fits all the criteria set out by them: an official document, delivered by a Member State of the E.U. with my name, photograph, date and place of birth. Why the fuck would you list it as a valid form of ID if on the day you will only accept a French passport or ID card (“même périmés”, I wouldn’t want to put that to the test… Might actually try in two weeks’ time).
I was lucky to spot the head honcho himself who was doing a bit of PR by taking the details of some of the thousands of voters (I am not exaggerating) who each queued for about two hours to vote.
I pleaded my case to Monsieur l’Ambassadeur, explained that this was not just a case of administrative misinterpretation (pettiness is a perk of the job for underpaid consular agents) but a much more serious case of denial of a fundamental civic right, as enshrined in the statute of the Republic.
I was upgraded to the top of the queue at the Service du Contentieux (my apologies to the other raleurs) with an express recommendation from the boss man that my little problem be addressed asap.
They still wouldn’t accept my perfectly valid Irish driver’s licence but issued me on the spot with a cute little Carte Consulaire, with a photograph of me that dates from twenty years ago when I was 20 kilos slimmer and wearing my cool leather jacket bought in Texas (that’s what they had on file).
I happily rejoined the snaking queue, and 90 minutes later voted for the guy I don’t like to try and stop the woman I abhor.

I discovered during the process that the under two years old are not very keen on civic practices. Or long snaking queues. There were a few meltdowns. And some very very stressed parents.

Anywaym, it’s done. Round one.

Back to the same craic in two weeks’ time. I think I’ll bring my Carte d’Identite from 1982 with me. The one that expired in 1992. It says on the form that it is a valid form of ID…

The French living abroad vote for the next president

cof

Standard

Marine Lepen has nazi connections

Spent two hours of my life (that I will never get back) watching the final address of the 11 candidates for the French presidential election.

Only a sprinkle of them actually said something. And an even smaller number actually said something that I would tend to agree with.
And none of them could remotely implement what they were talking about. None of the one I would tend to agree with, if pushed.
So nothing new there.

Except for the dangerous one. Very scary.

I have a profound dislike for the muppet I am going to vote for. In an attempt to stop the one I abhor.

Plan B is to leg it. Where to, I have no idea. I will just join the thousands of other headless chicken running around flapping their wings. Because we’re fucked. Running around with other headless chickens.

I’ll be good at it. The Mistake Factory has prepared me well.

a splash of colour... quite literally, art, dublin, dun laoghaire, I'd be tempted to admitting to being superstitious but I prefer not to say it aloud, ireland, photography, street photography, testicular pain, this is a swear-free zone, for fuck sake

Legging it

Image
art, dublin, dun laoghaire, funny, humour, I'd be tempted to admitting to being superstitious but I prefer not to say it aloud, ireland, photography, street photography, tourism, travel

Foxy ladies

Buckley Galleries of Sandycove, a local institution.

Buckley Galleries of Sandycove, a local institution

What is he taking a photo of?
Who is he?
He’s not from around here, is he?
Is he one of them ISIS lunatics they warn us against in the Herald?
What is he taking a photo of?
Surely not of that battered old fox in Buckley’s?

No ladies. Not the battered old fox. Or rather, not just the battered old fox. But a battered old fox and a brace of nosey old bats.

Standard
crime in Dun Laoghaire

Vandals target disused Dun Laoghaire shop

Shite, I think my finger prints are clearly visible between Clinton and Bryson…

This gag is as old as the Pet Shop Boys and as revolutionary as a Che Guevara t-shirt but it still makes me laugh.

And god knows laughs were in short supply in the Mistake Factory today…

art, dublin, dun laoghaire, funny, humour, I'd be tempted to admitting to being superstitious but I prefer not to say it aloud, ireland, street photography, the importance of living by one's principles

Bill-advised attempt at anarchic humour

Image

img_3154

Shite, Donnacha, you remember that arts council grant we got last year, yes, the one for which we wrote the 25 page concept. Yes, that one. Well, I have just reread the small print, and we may have to pay it back unless we produce an actual piece. Yeah, me too. I thought that the concept was enough. But they’re actually expecting a work of art, the greedy exploiting bastards. Pass me the pot of red paint and the hammer, I can feel a piece coming. I’ve always hated the shaggin small print…

a splash of colour... quite literally, art, dublin, dun laoghaire, funny, humour, I'd be tempted to admitting to being superstitious but I prefer not to say it aloud, ireland, photography, ribbed for your pleasure, seeing is believing

It’s oart, loike

Image

img_2711

and heavy conversation.

With a lashing of Bolognese and way too much cheese.

art, dublin, dun laoghaire, essential parenting implements, he died for our sins, I'd be tempted to admitting to being superstitious but I prefer not to say it aloud, ireland, life lesson, monochrome, parenting, photography

Dangling balls

Image